perfect as
any human plans can be, still he did not know exactly what would happen
at a quarter past twelve.

At ten minutes past midnight the boy heard a rush of footsteps in the
corridor. They passed his door and the boring ceased. Then they faded
away in the distance and the gnawing was resumed. There was a little
more noise in the hotel than before.

Ned smiled at the crude efforts that were being made to enter his room.
In New York man disposed to enter for the purpose of robbery would have
a skeleton key. He would be inside the room in three seconds after
entering the corridor and finding the apartment he sought wrapped in
darkness.

"But this isn't New York," the boy mused. "This is the Orient, and the
patience of the Orient, and the stupidity of the Orient!"

At exactly a quarter past twelve there was a commotion in the corridor.
Several people seemed to be moving toward the door of Ned's room. Once
there was a little cry of alarm.

Ned looked out of his window. The panes where he had observed the
signals, across the street, were dark. There was no light in the window
next his own which had shown red, white and blue but a moment before.

The clamor in the corridor increased, and Ned walked to the door and
undid the fastenings. Then it swung open, almost striking Ned in the
face.

Facing the boy, in the corridor, were six Chinamen, or men in native
dress, rather. Back of them were a score of stern-faced Chinese
policemen. To the right, and struggling with all their might to get
into the room were Frank, Jack, and Jimmie, the latter with his nose
wrinkled and wrinkling to such an extent that it resembled a small ocean
with the wind undulating its surface.

"Trap's closed!"

That was Jimmie, of course. Frank and Jack stood by laughing. The
faces of the six men who stood before the door were anything but
pleasant to look upon.

They expressed hate, despair, desperate intents. As they stood there
Frank reached forward and snatched a queue-wig from the head of the man
nearest him.

"There he is!" Jimmie cried. "There's the old boy, Ned--the smooth gink
we saw at Taku, at Tientsin, and at numerous places on the road. I
wonder how he likes the scene?"

Ned motioned to the six to step into the room. Three of them objected,
then swords flashed in the light of the corridor and they moved on.

They were followed by the three boys and half a dozen policemen, all
with automatics in view. At