"What is it?" cried Jack, pressing forward.
"Yes, tell us," demanded Bob and Frank as in one breath.
The three boys crowded around Mr. Temple, who in one hand held the mass of documents and in the other the letter. He was reading the latter.
"Boys," said he, "this proves Rollins's complicity in a plot against us. But it makes matters more puzzling and complicated, too."
"How is that, sir?" Jack inquired.
"Well, first of all," said Mr. Temple, holding up the thick sheaf of papers, "this is Mr. Hampton's own original list of the leases secured by the group of independent oil operators to which I belong and which he represents here in the field."
"Is it a copy of the list I recovered from the thief who stole it from Mr. Hampton's house on Long Island?" asked Bob.
"No," smiled Mr. Temple. "It is the original. That was the copy. And this letter with it is one written by Rollins to a man in New York City who is one of the minor officials of the Oil Trust. It is too long to read to you. But from it I gather that Rollins is a spy in the employ of this official."
"Say, Dad," declared Bob, "this is too much for me. If the Octopus is responsible for our troubles, then where do the Mexicans come in? And vice versa?"
"That's what I had in mind, Bob, when I said this discovery complicated matters," said Mr. Temple.