Monsieur Brin was searched. No papers were found on him except his pocket-book, a lady's photograph, and several letters, which the officer glanced through, the Frenchman fuming with impatience and indignation. At the conclusion of the search the lieutenant threw a meaning glance at Sowinski, whose attitude throughout had convinced Jack of the correctness of his surmise. The Pole's presence was in itself a sufficient proof of his personal interest in Mr. Brown's fate. An hour was spent in making a further examination of the scattered papers; nothing incriminating being found, the lieutenant gave his men the order to march. At the last moment he glanced at the envelope on the table.
"Take care of it, Monsieur," he said; "it would be awkward for you if it were lost."
When the party had gone, Monsieur Brin fairly exploded with wrath. English was too slow for him; a rapid torrent of French came from his quivering lips. But Jack's attention was diverted from the Frenchman by the strange antics of Hi Lo, who was dancing round his father, his face beaming with delight.
"You hid the papers?" said Jack. "You are a good boy. Where are they?"
The boy pointed to the envelope on the table.
"What do you mean?"
"Masta, look-see. Masta, look-see."
Jack lifted the envelope. The boy's glee puzzled him. Opening it, he took out the Russian pass, and with it half a dozen thin slips of paper written upon in Russian and French. He could hardly believe his eyes. They were the very papers for which the officer had sought so diligently but in vain.
"How is this? What does it mean?" he said in blank amazement.
"Hai-yah! Velly bad Lusski man look-see Masta; allo piecee bad man look-see all-same; no can tinkee Hi Lo plenty smart inside. Hai-yah! Allo piecee Lusski man look-see that-side; my belongey this-side, makee no bobbely; cleep-cleep 'long-side table; my hab papers allo lightee: ch'hoy! he belong-ey chop-chop inside ombeloke; Lusski no savvy nuffin 'bout nuffin, galaw!"