"And j.a.pan may in time acquire all Asia," Ned said, desiring to lead the sailor back to within reaching distance of the subject he was most interested in. "In time the Philippines may belong to j.a.pan."

The sailor winked at Ned mysteriously and flourished his bottle of gin.

"I know!" he cried. "I know! If j.a.pan gets the Philippines she'll have to fight a thousand tribes and the monkeys in the trees! She'll have to fight also the crocodiles in the brooks. 'I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul--cause thy two eyes, like stars, to start from their spheres, and thy--.' Say," he said with a laugh, "what do you think of me anyway? You think I've got a jag on, don't you.

Never was soberer in my innocent life!"

"If you'll describe this man that threw you down," Ned said, anxious to have done with the by-play, "and tell me where to look for him, I'll go and see what I can do for you. How much was he to give you?"

"Barrels!"

The sailor paused and stretched his hands above his head, the bottle glistening in one of them. "He was to pile the greenbacks up so high--for me to wade in, and wipe my feet on. You can't find him."

There was a stealthy movement on the stairs, and a movement not so stealthy at the door. Ned heard a hand moving over the bamboo, and made ready for a spring. He had no idea who the visitor might be, but his manner of approach showed him to be no friend of the sailor's.

There were no more sounds at the door, and Ned glanced casually in that direction. The candle on the wobbling shelf gave forth little light, and that seemed to grow more shadows than rays of illumination. The shadows seemed deepest and most uncertain of form at the door, but, at the center of the odd-shape panel in the middle of the door he thought he saw a malevolent eye looking forth into the room.

He wondered if an eye was really there, or if, his imagination stirred by the weird scene and the fairy history of j.a.pan which the sailor had repeated, he was seeing things not present to the senses!

In a moment there was no doubt, for the malevolent eye left the aperture and there was again a fumbling at the door. Ned made no motion, but sat as if unconscious of any intruder being there. He knew that the person at the door was there to watch the sailor, to see that he did not talk too much, to see that he did not leave Yokohama until the trap of treason had been fully set and baited.

There was no doubt in the mind of the boy now that he had found the man he had set out in quest of. Of course the man who had planned the conspiracy, who was doubtless a.s.sisting the tribes to arms and ammunition by way of the unpatrolled China Sea, was the one he aimed to reach in time. The sailor was only a link in the chain which led to the object sought.

The mind of the boy was not at that time much concerned with thoughts for his own safety although he could never be in more deadly peril than he was at that moment when he was looked at through the opening in the door. His one idea was to get a view of the spy, and with this object in view he arose and stepped toward the door.

"You're getting sleepy," he said to the sailor, "and I'll go out and get a little fresh air while you sleep. I shall not be far away."

"You're a good fellow," Brown cried, already half asleep. "When I get out of this I'll tell you something that'll make your fortune. Bring back another bottle of gin. Thish mos' gone!"

Ned stood by the door for a moment in order to give the spy time to get back to the bottom of the stairs. He could see no profit in a struggle in that place, and there was certain to be one if he permitted the spy to know that his movements had been observed.

Finally he heard soft footsteps on the stairs. He waited only an instant after this before pa.s.sing out into the narrow hall. The staircase was clear, but a door opening into it from the public room below was open and a broad zone of light lay on the floor of the pa.s.sage and on the wall.

Ned stood in the doorway and looked out on the street, now and then turning his eyes in the direction of the public room. At a table well toward the back end of the place he saw the man he was looking for. He was seated at a table with two men who appeared to be American sailors.

While he stood there, wondering at the inefficiency of the disguise the man wore, at the nerve which prompted him to wear that fragment of native costume when his face, manner and accent bespoke the cultured American another sailor came swaggering into the place.

This sailor was unquestionably intoxicated. He swayed back and forth as he walked, and would have fallen to the floor at the very door only for the restraining hand of a boy who accompanied him. Immediately on his appearance waiters rushed forward to attend to his wants, to give him a chair and a table, and to pay him all sorts of little attentions.

In such places in all foreign ports the American sailor is the easy mark. He drinks--when he drinks at all--until he is past all wisdom regarding the expenditure of money, with the result that he literally throws it away. In the appearance of this sailor the attendants saw a rich harvest, not only for the place but for themselves.

But Ned saw more than this. He saw the freckled face and sparkling eyes of Jimmie McGraw, steering the drunken sailor to the table pointed out for him. The boy was in high humor, for he joked with the blundering sailor, and instead of sitting down at the table--brought into use there because the foreigners insist on not drinking sitting on the floor--he sat down on it and swung his feet downward.

"Look at the kid!" one of the men at the table Ned was watching said.

"Looks like he was on South Clark street, Chicago."

"Don't get gay, now!" Jimmie retorted. "I'm playin' I'm a tug towin'

this 'ere sailorman to bed."

"You've got a job on your hands," the other said, and then the three at the table bent their heads forward and talked in whispers. Now and then they faced toward the doorway, but Ned was then too far toward the street for them to observe him.

They did not seem at all suspicious of Jimmie, and Ned concluded that such occurrences were not uncommon there. Jimmie seated his companion more firmly in his chair in a moment and pa.s.sed out, stopping at the doorway where Ned stood.

"You duck!" the boy said. "That man in there with the sailors followed you here, an' I followed him here. You duck!"

"I haven't got the information I'm after yet," Ned said. "How in the world did you get here?"

"Followed the chap that followed you," was the quick reply. "Out here I come upon that beery sailor and took him in tow!"

"Good idea," Ned said. "Now, you slip past me and go up stairs, to the room in front, and see if the man there can be gotten away. I want to size up the men in there. I can see them by poking my head out occasionally, but they can't see me."

"Well, you keep your gun ready," Jimmie warned. "This ain't New York, with a cop every half block an' a taxicab always within reach. This is Yokohama! Don't you forget that!"

"Don't remain up there long!" said Ned.

Jimmie hastened away, and Ned stood leaning against the casing of the doorway. Then Jimmie came down the stairs at a jump, making no pretense of secrecy, and behind him there was a rush of feet and a jumble of foreign words.

The three men Ned had been watching sprang up from their table and dashed toward the front of the place, and all was confusion in an instant. The sailor who had come in with Jimmie attempted to lean carelessly back in his chair and toppled over on the floor, where he lay with the slippered feet of the attendants striking him in their rush for the door.

"Run!" Jimmie cried as he approached Ned. "Hot foot! The man you sent me to is dead, and there's a bunch of ruffians after us. Run! Beat it!"

CHAPTER XII.

PAT TAKES A BIG CHANCE.

The _Manhattan_ glided like a duck over the waters of the Bashee Channel, South of the Island of Formosa. A week had pa.s.sed since that night in Yokohama, and Ned and Jimmie were back among the islands north of Luzon.

It had been a close shave that night, for the boys had been only a few feet ahead of their pursuers when they were fortunate enough to come upon a party of American marines on sh.o.r.e leave. The marines had gathered about the panting boys and finally, after fighting off the j.a.ps, conducted them to their hotel. The last Ned saw of the man whom he believed to be an American military man in the disguise of a j.a.p he was running in a most undignified manner down the street, as if not willing to look upon the uniforms of the marines. The next morning he had caught a glimpse of the fellow, but had not been able to get close to him. On the day before he left for Manila the man had left the port. Ned was of the opinion that he had traveled on to Manila, and so on to the group of islands which the _Manhattan_ was now nosing among.

At Manila Ned had again conferred with Major John Ross, and that dignified official had virtually dismissed the boy from the service. He had scolded him for going over to Yokohama and for stirring up a mess there, as he put it, between a party of hilarious marines and the local police.

However, Ned did not accept dismissal. Instead of remaining at Manila, as ordered to do, until word could be received from Washington, he joined Pat in the motor boat, provisioned her for a long cruise, and set out to locate the island which was to see the signing of the treaty between the tribes of the Philippines--the treaty which was certain to bring war and starvation to the islands.

He was sure the treaty had not yet been signed, and he could not understand the delay. It did not seem possible that his appearance at the island first chosen for the meeting could have caused so long a wait in the important negotiations. He had suspicions at times that the disappearance from the scene of the men he had followed to Yokohama had had something to do with the delay.

In looking over the results of the trip to the j.a.panese city, Ned was fairly well satisfied with them. He believed that he had caught a glimpse of the man who was at the head of the plot against the United States. When he considered that the sailor who had complained so bitterly of the manner in which he had been treated had been murdered in his room while the suspect sat below in disguise, he did not doubt that the crime had been committed by paid a.s.sa.s.sins for the purpose of enforcing secrecy.

On the whole he was well pleased with the progress of the case. He had made his discoveries by deviating from the paths usually followed by investigators, but he believed that he held the right clues in his hands. It remained for him now to find the island where the treaty was to be signed and await developments.

It was sure that if the king-pins of the conspiracy could be captured the whole fabric would fall to the ground. He believed that large sums of money were being used, though he could not tell where the cash was coming from. Sometimes he thought commercial interests guilty of the reckless thing that was being done. Sometimes he thought the plot original with the foxy prime minister of some nation looking for additional possessions in the Orient.

At Manila he had learned that Lieutenant Rowe had been restored to liberty, badly wounded, but in a fair way to recover. The Lieutenant, however could do little to a.s.sist the investigation, as he had learned little during his captivity, had not been permitted to see the leading spirits. As Ned had believed from the first, the men who attacked him were not inclined to do murder unnecessarily. All they sought was the sealed orders carried by the officer and the man who had followed on after him and entered unceremoniously through the window.

One thing Ned could not understand was the matter of the despatches handed the Lieutenant by the man who had entered the nipa hut in so strange a manner, shortly after midnight on the night of the attack.

These instructions, according to reports, countermanded the ones Lieutenant Rowe had received in person at Manila, and would have turned him back without conferring with Major Ross or the lads he had with him.