had been recognized by the high powers to an
extent sufficient to set in motion the complicated and bulky wheels of
diplomacy.

Peter shook his head respectfully, and the consul permitted his
reluctantly admiring and inquisitive gaze to travel up and down the
romantic and now international figure.

"I am able to say nothing," he expressed himself quietly. "If the
American ambassador has decreed that I ought to go home--home I go!
I'll confess right now that I did not intend to go home when I stepped
into this office, but I do respect, and I will respect, the authority
of that order."

"If the President, for example, should request you to
continue--ah--what you have been doing, for the good, let us say, of
humanity, you would continue without hesitation, Mr. Moore?"

Peter gave the long, pale face a sharp scrutiny. Did this
innocent-faced man know more than he intimated, or was he merely
applying the soft, velvet screws of diplomacy, endeavoring to squeeze
out a little information?

"I certainly would."

The consul rose, with a bland smile, and extended his hand.

"It has been gratifying to know one who has become such a singular,
and, permit me to add, such a trying figure, in diplomatic circles,
during the past week. Good-day, sir!"

Peter walked down Desvoeux road in a state of mental detachment. A
week! Only a week had passed since he had sailed from Batavia, a week
since he had thrown overboard the emissary of the Gray Dragon. He
concluded that in more than one way could his presence be dismissed
from the land of darkness and distrust.

How had the Gray Dragon brought pressure upon the American ambassador,
a man of the highest repute, of sterling and patriotic qualities? The
answer seemed to be, that the coils of the Gray Dragon extended
everywhere, like an inky fluid which had leaked into every crevice and
crack of all Asia.

He was still under orders to pay a visit to J. B. Whalen, the Marconi
supervisor. That cross-examination he was glad to postpone.

He called at the office of the Pacific Mail, and found that the _King
of Asia_ was due to leave for the United States the following morning
at dawn. He made a deposit on a reservation.

CHAPTER XIII

The hour lacked a few minutes of seven when Peter ascended in the lift
to the second floor of the Hong-Kong Hotel and made his way between the
closely packed tables to the Desvoeux Road balcony.

Romola Borria was not yet in evidence.