“Answer him as you would have answered if nothing had happened to you here,” was the reply.
The prisoner uttered a long, low cry, and the boys waited with suspended breath. Even at the peril of his life the fellow might warn the others. Ned knew how loyal the people of his nation are.
But the reply was not a warning, or a call for help. The man who had called out the prisoner’s name answered now with an “All right. Remain about here.” Then the men moved away in a body, taking the road to Gamboa.
“Are they coming back to-night?” asked Ned.
“I can tell you nothing,” was the reply.
When the men who had left the house had disappeared from sight Ned bade the captive rise that he might be searched closely for weapons.
“Say,” Jimmie cried. “There’s your tall, slender man with black hair turning gray in places. Ever in New York, Mister?” he added.
The prisoner made no reply.
“You are enough like Itto to be his brother,” Ned said. “Perhaps you won’t mind telling me which one of you stole Frank Shaw’s necklace?”
The prisoner turned his back indignantly. He was indeed a fair copy of the man called Itto, and his shoulders, narrow and high, might have made the damp stains Ned had found on the wall of the closet in the Shaw house in New York.