“When you told me of your experience with the man who went through Mr. Campe’s papers,” said Ashton-Kirk, “I thought a paper was the object of the visit. And so it was—but only as a thing that would lead to something else. This latter fact I suspected from the contents of the telegram received by me this morning; and I was convinced of it when we made our search of the vaults a few hours ago. The paper sought was one which held certain directions; the man with the cough found it that night before he leaped through the window. The paper could not have been clear to them; it pointed to something hidden here in the vaults of Schwartzberg; they searched, but without success. At length, perhaps last night, Alva came, as we saw by the wheel tracks of his chair. His superior intelligence at once showed itself, and located what they sought.”
Young Campe gave a cry.
“So it was in Schwartzberg, as they said!” he exclaimed, despairingly.
“You never knew it, then?” asked Ashton-Kirk.
“I knew nothing, except that I was threatened with death unless I gave up what I had never seen and knew nothing of. I told them so a hundred times, but they would not believe me.”
“You could have given them the run of the place,” suggested Ashton-Kirk, “and let them search for themselves.”
The jaw of the young man set.
“No,” said he. “They asked that, but I refused. You, I think,” and he looked at the other steadily, “know why.”
“I think I do,” said Ashton-Kirk.
“But,” spoke Mr. Scanlon, “tell me how you know they located what they were after?”