"Since seeing you two," he resumed, "I have come to the conclusion that I was perhaps somewhat hasty with de Soto, and imagine it is possible that he did not possess the knowledge I credited him with, and it may be that I punished him unjustly. But that little matter is now past regret, and we have to deal with the present. The matter in hand deals with the loss of a certain document from the cabin of a Spanish war-vessel, the _Gloria del Mundo_, which ship you both doubtless remember. I thought at first that de Soto was responsible for its disappearance; but, if my memory serves me aright, you two lads left the vessel after de Soto and myself, and, from what I have gathered, I imagine that you may know something about the paper. If you know, tell me where it is, and I will spare you; but if you decide not to speak-- well, you saw what de Soto suffered the other day, and his treatment was gentle compared with what yours will be unless you decide to tell me where that paper is to be found, for I am convinced that you know. Now, speak; speak--you!" Again Harry acted as spokesman, and replied: "Senor Alvarez, we have heard what you say, and we know to what paper you refer; but we have it not. It is no longer in existence, and consequently it can never be found. You may do your worst; but though you should torture us both to death, it is not in our power, or that of any other mortal, to give you a document which does not now exist." "I do not believe you," shouted Alvarez. "It cannot be so. That paper must be somewhere," he foamed, "and I will have it if I am compelled to tear you limb from limb to get it. Will you speak, or will you not?" Alvarez literally foamed at the mouth with rage, for indeed he was nearly mad with disappointment. In spite of himself, he had an inward conviction that what Harry said was true, and that, do what he might, he would never again set eyes on that paper, the possession of which he so earnestly desired. Revenge, however, sweet revenge, still remained, and that he could and would have. He had worked himself up to a pitch of fury that very closely approached madness; moreover, his bitter disappointment demanded alleviation through the suffering of him who had inflicted it. So, without waiting for a reply, he roared, pointing to Harry: "Seize that lad who spoke, and put him to the torture. I will soon see whether he still refuses to speak when I command! Bind that other one, and let him see all that happens; for it will be his turn next, and he may as well know what is in store for him. Ha! ha!" and he laughed again with sardonic fury.