Then Nestor asked:
"Where are Don Miguel and Felix?"
"I know nothing about the foxy guy," growled the watchman.
"Then where is the Mexican?" was the next question.
Scoby fixed his gaze on the brandy flask longingly, and Nestor
saw that he was bargaining for another drink of the liquid.
"Very well," he said. "Tell me what I want to know, and you
shall have more."
"What do you want to know?" growled Scoby.
"How did you manage to escape from the secret service men?"
"We, Felix and I, got away while they were arranging for a boat
to cross to San Jose. They chased us up the slope and fired at us,
but there were so many men in the hills that they did not care to
follow us in."
"And Don Miguel?"
"We left him with the officers. He would not even try to get away."
"And why did your flight take this direction?" asked Nestor, glad
that the diplomat was still in custody, where he would be obliged
to give an account of his doings.
"We came to look for the mine," was the impatient reply.
"And you found it, and left Felix there?"
Scoby's haggard face again contorted with anger.
"There is no mine!" he almost shouted. "We have been on a fool
errand! The map is a fake and a lie!"
The boys glanced at each other and smiled triumphantly. Scoby
caught the expression on their faces and dropped back hopelessly.
"And so you found it?" he said, consternation as well as inquiry
in his voice.
"Never mind that now," Nestor replied.
Pages:
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189