hed hand and shook it warmly.

"I never was so glad to see any person in my life!" Ned exclaimed, while
Hans stood by with that bland German smile on his face.

"Oh, we'll have this mess straightened out in no time," the consul said.
"These people," with a gesture toward the operator, the assistant
manager, and the detective, "are all right. They mean to do the fair
and honorable thing, but they have troubles of their own. We'll have
this all ironed out in no time."

"This kid is an impostor!" shouted the detective.

"No hard names, please," said the consul. "Let us get at the facts of
the case. You claim to be Ned Nestor?" turning to the boy.

"That is my name, sir."

"And you claim a cablegram which is here? A cablegram in cipher--the
cipher code of the Secret Service of the United States government?"

"Yes, it would naturally be in cipher."

"You have the key to the code?"

"Certainly."

"Be careful, young man," laughed the consul, "for I was in the Secret
Service department before I came here, and know the code."

"I'm glad you do," replied Ned.

"Hand me the cablegram," ordered the consul, turning to the assistant
manager.

The detective stepped forward with a frown on his face. He glared at
the consul and at Ned for a moment, and then broke out:

"You can't have it unless you will promise not to reveal its contents to
this impostor."

"Can't I?" said the consul, coolly. "Hand me the cablegram."

The operator and the assistant manager drew back. The consul stood for
an instant regarding them angrily.

"One, two, three!" he said. "At the word three, pass it over!"

"Goot sphort, dot feller!" whispered Hans.

During the dead silence which followed Ned watched the face of the
consul for some sign of weakening, but found none. He knew that he had
come upon an official who would stand by his guns, no matter what took
place.

There was a little crowd in front of the office, and half a dozen faces
were pressed against the windows and the glass panel of the door. Ned
thought he saw a face there he had last seen in the old house at Taku
where he had been captured. The fellow carried a long cicatrice on his
left cheek.

"What do you mean by coming in here and giving orders?" demanded the
detective. "I'll put you out if the manager says the word."

Ned, standing close to Hans, felt the muscles of the German's great arm
swell under the sleeve. Hans was evidently anticipating trouble.