Finally he faced the three friends and said: “He is in prison, in Juarez, the victim of a conspiracy. He is in utmost danger; he is closely guarded; the persons involved have such powerful reasons for holding him that they would kill him rather than allow him to be rescued. What we do must be done with the greatest caution; his guards must not have the slightest suspicion that a rescue is attempted, or planned, or possible, till it is carried out. In addition to this he tells us that we are to communicate with him by means of the personal columns of the El Paso papers——”
“I got that,” said Pringle, “but that is about all I did get. Of course, we all figured it out that we were to come to you for instructions, and that there was something about a typewriter we wanted to look into. That was plain enough. There, I’m talking with my mouth. Go on!”
“And, in his great danger and distress, he sends you—to Mr. Pringle first, and then to all of you—a last and tenderest farewell, and the strong assurance of his faith that you will do for him all that men can do.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Leo. “And was there no hint of who it was that had done this?”
“There was!” said Aughinbaugh, with sparkling eyes. “It was two well-known, wealthy and influential El Paso men—the Honorable S. S. Thorpe and Sam Patterson.”
“Show me!” said Pringle—“though I begin to see.”
“Half the letter is taken up by comment on the play of Julius Cæsar, which he and I had been reading together,” said George. “He tells us plainly, over and over, in different words, to look in it for meanings beneath the surface. You remember that?”
“Yes,” said Billy.
“Well, the play hinges upon the conspiracy of Brutus and Cassius—a conspiracy carried out on the Ides of March. Look!” He moved the paper to expose another line:
Remember March, the Ides of March remember!