The sun's rays do not linger very long in any place, and the light faded quickly from Lanny's cell. He sat in twilight, and thought: “Surely Robbie must have returned by now!” His stomach was complaining, and in many ways he was tiring of this bad joke. When at last he heard a jailer approaching his cell he was glad, even though it might mean a court martial. “Venez,” said the man; and escorted him to the office of the commissaire again.
There were the same three officials, and with them, not Robbie, as the prisoner had hoped, but Uncle Jesse! So once more Lanny had to think fast. What did it mean? Doubtless his uncle had been brought in, like himself, as a suspect. Had he talked? And if so, what had he said?
“M. Budd,” said the commissaire, “your uncle has come here of his own free will to tell us the circumstances by which you came into possession of those documents.” He paused as if expecting Lanny to speak; but Lanny waited. “Will you be so kind as to answer a few questions in his presence?”
“Monsieur le Commissaire” said Lanny, “I have already told you that I will answer no questions until my father has come.”
“You mean that you don't trust your uncle?” A silence. “Or is it that the gentleman is not your uncle?”
“It would be such a very simple matter to telephone to my father's hotel, Monsieur!”
“We have already done that; but your father is not there.”
“He is quite certain to arrive before long.”
“You mean you intend to force us to keep you in this uncomfortable position until we can find your father?”
“No, Monsieur, I haven't the least desire to do that. I am willing for you to release me at any time.”