“Then you can’t tell me who Emory went away with?” asked Ned.
“Certainly not,” was the reply. “I don’t know whether he went away at all or not.”
This was disappointing, but Ned had one more lever with which the man’s indifference might be lifted, he thought. Before speaking again Lemon arose and turned the key in the lock of the door, against which the servant was still pounding. The Jap entered and stood by the door, looking intently at Ned.
“When you gave him the suit of clothes he went away in,” the boy went on, shifting his position so that both men would be under his eyes, “what articles, if any, remained in the pockets?”
“Not a thing,” was the reply. “I looked out for that.”
“Then anything discovered in the pockets of the dead man,” Ned said, taking the key from his pocket and toying carelessly with it, “must have belonged to him?”
Ned saw Lemon give a quick start at sight of the key. The Jap advanced a step as if to get a closer view of it. Then both men turned their eyes for an instant to the broken lock of the writing desk. Ned had gained his point. The men recognized the key.
“Where is the body you speak of?” Lemon asked, presently.
“Buried near the cavern in the mountains,” was the reply.
“Perhaps you can give me a description of the body,” Lemon said. “I might be able to say, then, whether the man was Felix.”