“I hope to die if I ain’t telling the truth!” said Philip, desperately.
“You’ll die when your time comes, and it may come sooner than you think for,” said Temple, taking a malicious pleasure in seeing Philip turn pale and tremble in his grasp.
“You wouldn’t kill me?” faltered Philip.
“I don’t know what I shall do. If you tell me where the box is, I shan’t.”
“But I don’t know—hope to die if I do.”
“Who was that fellow with you?” demanded Temple, abruptly.
“James Congreve.”
“Where does he come from?”
“From New York.”
“If you haven’t stolen the box, he has. It lies between you.”