"Will you deliver the cablegram?" asked the consul.

"I will not."

As the assistant manager spoke the detective reached his hand up to the
electric light switch. Ned saw in an instant what his intention was.
If the room should be suddenly thrown into darkness, the operator might
escape with the cablegram.

The consul, too, saw what was meditated and sprang forward. The
detective struck at him, but before his blow reached its intended mark,
Hans struck and the detective went down as suddenly as if he had been
hit with an ax. Then, from unseen places, from beneath counters and out
of closets, came a horde of Chinamen. The room was full of them.

"Soak um!" cried Hans.

The German was about to adopt his own suggestion by passing a blow out
to the nearest Chinaman when the consul stepped before him. For an
instant the threatening natives stepped back. The attacking of the
American consul was a thing to be seriously considered.

"Once more!" warned the consul. "Give me the cablegram."

At a motion from the assistant manager the brown men closed
threateningly about the American again. There was malice in their eyes
as they pressed closer and closer.

"This looks like another Boxer uprising!" exclaimed the consul. "Mr.
Nestor," he added, "if you will assemble yourself at my back, and our
German friend will stand by, we'll give 'em a run for their white alley.
Hit hard and often."

There is no knowing what might have happened then had not an
interruption fell. Ned saw the crowd at the door vanish, and the next
instant the friendly popping of motorcycles rang a chorus in the air.

Then came the rattle of guns and sabers, and a line of bluecoats stood
before the door. At their head stood Jimmie, wrinkling his freckled
nose as if for dear life.

Ned sprang to the door and opened it.

"Quick!" he cried. "Don't let a man now in the room get away."

"Where is Captain Martin, the officer in charge?" asked one of the men.

"The Chinks can tell you," Ned answered. "Close up at the doors," he
went on, gazing about excitedly, "so that no one can leave."

This was done instantly. In fact, the natives and the men of the
telegraph office were not in a fighting mood now. The guns and sabers
of the marines had brought them to a peace-loving state of mind!

They huddled about in the center of the room, the natives milling around
like cattle in a storm. The assistant manager pushed out of the press
and handed