A queer change had come over the prisoner at the sight of Mr. Whitford. No longer was Shafton surly and blustering. Instead he seemed to slink down in his chair, bound as he was, as if trying to get out of sight.
"Why did you play double?" demanded the government agent, striding over to him.
"I--I--don't hit me!" whined Shafton.
"Hit you! I'm not going to hit you!" exclaimed Mr. Whitford, "but I'm going to search you, and then I'm going to wire for one of my men to take you in custody."
"I--I didn't do anything!"
"You didn't; eh? Well, we'll see what the courts think of giving wrong information to Uncle Sam with the intent to aid criminals. Let's see what he's got in his pockets."
The spy did not have much, but at a sight of one piece of paper Mr. Whitford uttered a cry of surprise.
"Ha! This is worth something!" he exclaimed. "It may be stale news, and it may be something for the future, but it's worth trying. I wonder I didn't think of that before."
"What is it?" asked Tom.
For answer the custom officer held out a scrap of paper on which was written one word.