ECHO CAVE

"You admit you have carried the document with you, and that it's only a
question of refusing to produce it, Professor?"

Frank recognized that drawling voice. He had heard his father's cousin,
Eugene Warringford, speak many times, and generally in this slow way.
But Frank also knew that back of his apparently careless manner there
was more or less venom. Eugene could hate, and hide his feelings in a
masterly manner. He could smile, and then strike behind the back of the
one with whom he was dealing. And somehow his very drawling voice always
made Frank quiver with instinctive dislike.

"I admit nothing, sir," came another voice, quick and nervous, yet with
a firmness that told of considerable spirit. "You come upon me in my
retreat without an invitation, and at first claim to be a warm admirer
of my work, which you seem to have studied fairly well. But now you are
taking the mask off, sir; and I can recognize the wolf under the sheep's
clothing."

Frank had heard that the old scientist, though a small man, was full of
grit; and he could well believe it after hearing him speak.

And Bob, who crouched close at the side of his chum, gave Frank a nudge
as if to say: "What do you think of that for nerve; isn't he the limit,
though?"

Eugene laughed in his lazy way at being accused of evil intentions.
Apparently he had about made up his mind that there was no use in longer
beating about the bush. He had the old gentleman cooped up in this
isolated place, where no assistance could possibly reach him. And backed
up himself by a couple of reckless rascals, no doubt Eugene considered
himself in a position to demand obedience.

"Well, my dear old gentleman," he remarked, and by the sound Frank
imagined the fellow must be lighting a fresh cigarette, for he seemed to
puff between the words; "just as you say, what's the use of carrying the
joke on any longer. Let's be brutally frank with each other from now
on."

"Very well," replied the other, quickly. "Here's the situation then, in
a nutshell. You suddenly appear before me, with a couple of men you
claim are guides, but whom I have every reason to believe are low
minions who are simply in your pay."

"Careful, Professor," Eugene broke in. "I'd advise you to go a bit
slow. These men talk English, if they do look like Mexicans; and they
may resent being called rascals."

"Let that pass," continued the hermit of Echo Cave, as though waving the
matter aside c