“Search,” said Jack, “only let me put my arms down.” And the detective forthwith began to go through his pockets while the other passengers, many of whom were Americans, gathered around and looked on. One of the first things that the detective did was to confiscate the yellow wallet with the drawings. His eyes sparkled with pleasure when he opened it.
“Ah! Señor, it is for these you will be shot, maybe. You are a bad gringo,” he said with an evil chuckle.
“They are only working drawings of a machine,” protested Jack.
“Yes, a war machine, I think,” said the Mexican, continuing his search for firearms. Finally, after finding nothing more formidable than a jack-knife, the officer put his own revolver away and informed Jack that he might sit down and be at ease until they reached Mexico City. He warned the boy, however, that any attempt on his part to leave the car would call forth the huge revolver again, and since Jack had no desire to learn how good a marksman the Mexican was he refrained from rising from his Pullman chair for the rest of the afternoon. The Secret Service man sat directly opposite, his dark eyes never moving from the lad from Drueryville.
CHAPTER VI
ON TRIAL AS A SPY
The lights of Mexico City were a welcome sight to the young American. Never had a train ride seemed so long. The Secret Service guard refused to allow him conversation with his fellow-passengers and as the circumstances were too strained to permit his reading with any degree of interest, Jack had little to do but gaze out of the window and think over his misfortune. The moment the train rolled into the station, the detective hustled Jack to the military barracks in the heart of the city. It was almost midnight when they were challenged by the white-clad sentry before the heavy double gates of the enclosure. Jack’s captor answered with a few brief sentences in Spanish and the gates were unbarred to let them pass. Inside another sentry located the officer on duty and he and the Secret Service man held a short conference. A few moments later two privates were summoned. They took charge of the young Vermonter, escorting him toward the far end of the long barracks buildings, where he was locked into a stuffy unlighted cell in the guardhouse.
“To Jack it all seemed like a horrible nightmare”