Phil could not cry out, and would not have done so had he been able.
Slowly Brenchfield searched every pocket in turn. He failed to find a document of any kind.
He released him at last, rose and brushed the dust from his trousers, breathing heavily.
“Damn you!––I knew you lied.”
Phil got up also.
“Guess you take me for a fool such as I used to be,” he panted. “I don’t carry my valuables with me now when I visit your kind. I have more sense. Now, do you mind letting me out?”
Brenchfield made as if he were going to strike Phil in his anger.
“If I thought you had that paper, I’d kill you for it.”
“And, if you thought I hadn’t, you’d hound the life out of me. Well,––do your darnedest.”
“The money offer still holds good,” said Brenchfield in a more conciliatory tone. “Keep your mouth shut and I’ll do the same. Let me know when you are ready to name your price for that paper.”