of Namoto, the Japanese, in whose library he was at
that moment standing. He it was who had dropped the paper that Wah Lee
had so fortunately retrieved and which had given Bert the first hint of
the appalling disaster that threatened his country.

Bert noticed the subtle something in the air of Namoto--a mixture of
power, disdain, and condescension--as he motioned the engineer to a
seat. From a stray word or two that came to him, he noted that they were
talking in English, which both understood, while neither could speak the
native language of the other.

And now it became imperative that Bert should hear the conference that
concerned him so tremendously. From where he was, he could see
perfectly, but could hear nothing but an occasional disconnected word.
He must leave his safe retreat, take his life in his hands and reach the
veranda that ran beneath the open window.

Silently, he removed his shoes, and, tying them together by the laces,
hung them over the branch. Then he crept out on the heavy bough that
reached within three feet of the porch. Holding on by his hands, he let
himself down, swung back and forth once or twice to get the proper
momentum, and then letting himself go, landed as lightly as a lynx upon
the veranda. A moment he swayed trying to keep his nearly lost balance,
while he looked anxiously to see if the conspirators had heard. They
showed no sign of disturbance, however, and, with a muttered prayer of
thankfulness, Bert dropped on his hands and knees and crept beneath the
sill. And there, safe for the instant, with every faculty strained to
its utmost, he became a fourth, if unseen, member of the group.

CHAPTER XIII

MARKED FOR DESTRUCTION

Ofirio was speaking.

"I am sure that nothing has been overlooked," he was saying, evidently in
answer to a question. "The charges of dynamite have been tamped into the
holes, and there are enough of them, fired at the same moment, to wreck
the eastern gate. In any event, it will so injure the delicate machinery
that works them, that they cannot be moved. Portions of it, no doubt,
will be blown into the Canal and block it so effectually that no ship can
pass through. But, leaving that out of the question, if the gate cannot
work, the Canal is put out of commission. It would be a matter of weeks,
perhaps of months, to repair the damage."

"The longer the better, of course," said Namoto, "but we do not ask even
that much of fate. Gi