Jet's captor appeared to be perfectly contented after binding the boy, and assuring himself that it was impossible an alarm could be given.
He seated himself by the side of the berth, lighted a cigar, and began to read a newspaper, although the light in the room was far from good owing to the blinds being closed.
Jet was lying in such a manner that he could see the fellow's face plainly, and was now able to understand why he had not recognized him before.
At the saloon he had a heavy moustache and rather long hair. Now his face was smooth and his head closely shaven.
His face had then been so white as to be pallid, whereas it was now bronzed deeply. In addition the man's clothing was of the most fashionable make, while in the morning Jet had seen him clad in coarse, badly fitting garments.
"There's a big difference in his looks," Jet said to himself, "but yet I don't understand why I was such a fool as not to know him when he first spoke."
Messenger number forty-eight had ample time for reflection, for fully an hour passed without any change in the relative position of affairs, and then came a low, quick tap at the door.
When it was opened the tall man, now without a beard, and wearing a pair of green spectacles, came quickly into the room, locking the door carefully behind him.
"I see you've got the cub," he said, bending over Jet to make certain of his identity.
"Yes, had him here an hour."