rante, transmitted, in all likelihood, through the Japanese
minister.

The appearance of the car on La Salle Street had been expected by the
South American. Perhaps he had not anticipated that Orme would hail it;
the probability was that he had wished Maku's assistance without a
definite idea of what that assistance should be; but the use of the car
by Orme fell in nicely with his plans. He had assumed readily enough the
direction the car would take, and getting promptly into telephonic
communication with Arima, had arranged this meeting on the road.

Orme now remembered that Arima's car, when approaching, had sounded its
horn at regular intervals, in series of threes--evidently a signal.

"Don't worry, Girl, dear," whispered Orme. "I--" he broke off his
sentence as the newcomers clustered about the tonneau, but the confident
glance of her eyes reassured him.

He knew not what they were to face. The Japanese, he inferred, would not
deal with him pleasantly, but surely they would not harm the girl.

Arima opened the door of the tonneau and with a lightning motion grasped
Orme by the wrist.

"Get out," he ordered.

Orme was in no mind to obey. There were four of the Orientals against
him, and he stood little chance of success in a fight with them, but if
he could only delay matters, someone might pass and he could raise an
alarm. So he sat firm, and said, calmly:

"What do you want?"

"Get out," repeated Arima.

When Orme still made no move to leave his seat, the steely fingers on his
wrist ran up his forearm and pressed down hard upon a nerve-center. The
pain was almost unbearable, and for the moment his arm was paralyzed. A
quick jerk brought him to the ground. As he alighted, stumblingly, Maku
caught him by the other arm. He was held in such a way that for the
moment it seemed futile to struggle. Arima, meantime, spoke rapidly in
Japanese to Maku. Perhaps he, as commander of the situation, was giving
precise orders as to what was to be done.

Orme looked over his shoulder at the girl. She was clutching the door of
the tonneau and leaning forward, staring with horrified eyes.

"Keep cool," he counseled.

Her answer was a moan of anguish, and he realized that she feared for
him.

Suddenly she began to call for help. Twice her cries rung out, and then
one of the Japanese leaped into the tonneau and placed his hand over her
mouth, smothering her voice.

The sight of this action was too much for Orme. He