"Turn your marksmen loose on that rabble before the gate. Use the machine gun, too. Make it as deadly for the scoundrels as you know how.

Up to the ramparts you men at the gate, and fire on the mob!"

Chinese yells of battle changed to groans of pain as the American firing rattled out more heavily than at any other time that day.

From the river came the broad white beam of the "Castoga's" search light.

Boom! A sh.e.l.l dropped in the rear of the mult.i.tude and more houses were in flames, lighting up the scene.

"Hammer them as they run!" breathed Ensign Darrin fervently. "Keep it up as long as you can see any one to shoot at."

Boom! The "Castoga" took a further hand, by dropping one shrapnel sh.e.l.l, and then a second, among the seething, yellow rebels revealed by the searchlight.

Within two minutes the great open s.p.a.ce had been cleared, save for the bodies of several hundred killed and wounded.

"The searchlight is sending a signal, sir," spoke up one of the men.

There on the rampart, Dave read these words as they were signaled in the code:

"Good work, Darrin and all hands!"

"Give our commanding officer three times three, and do it with a will!"

shouted Ensign Dave. "Our shipmates will hear it."

And hear it they must have, for, no sooner had the cheering on the rampart ended when a distant, yet distinct sound of cheering drifted in from the river.

"How many have you on your casualty list?" was signaled by the searchlight.

"Seven of my men and three missionaries," answered the signal man, as he stood wigwagging, using a Chinese lantern hastily appropriated for that purpose. "None killed. All women safe."

Fast as he was with his wig-wagging, the signalman was glad when he had finished his work, for such a storm of bullets sang by him that none could understand how he escaped with his life.

Not until now did Darrin have time to think of Pembroke.

"I must get that blackguard!" he muttered, running down into the compound.

At first Dave could not locate the fellow. At last, however, he sighted him, half-hiding against a part of the wall where the gloom was most p.r.o.nounced.

"Well, sir?" demanded the young officer, striding up to the man who held a handkerchief against his injured scalp.

"Was it you who struck me down?" demanded Pembroke.

"It was."

"Why did you do such a dastardly thing?"

"Das-" gasped Dave, astounded. "See here, fellow, don't you believe that I knew what you were up to?"

"I-I was trying to close the gate, which some of the scoundrels outside had partly succeeded in opening," Pembroke a.s.serted stoutly.

"You lie!" retorted Ensign Darrin, staring sternly into the Englishman's eyes. "You were opening the gate. The direction in which you were swinging the wheel proved that. And I struck you down!"

"You are wronging me fearfully, Darrin!" Pembroke protested, with a strong attempt at injured dignity.

"Then I'm going to injure you still more outrageously," Darrin retorted, "for I'm going to place you in arrest. Moreover, if I live to get to the 'Castoga,' you are going out there with me as a prisoner."

"Darrin, you-you must be joking," stammered the fellow.

"No; I am not-Rogers!"

Dave watched for the effect of that shot. At mention of the name Pembroke turned more pallid.

"What do you mean by using that name when addressing me?" he stammered.

"Because it's your right name," Dave retorted. "You used that name before you ever used the name of Pembroke. Rogers, you are under arrest. Walk on ahead of me, straight to the circle of the lanterns.

Don't attempt to trifle with me, for my patience was never so short as it is now. March!"

"Surely, you are not going to humiliate me before all the ladies,"

protested the prisoner. Warned by the light in Ensign Dave's eyes he started forward.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," snapped Darrin. "I'm going to expose you so fully that you'll get no recognition save that of scorn."

"Darrin, one of these days you're going to pay a big penalty in regrets and apologies," the prisoner warned him.

"Fiddlesticks!" uttered Dave disgustedly.

Marching the fellow up under the light of the lanterns, Dave found several women eyeing him strangely.

"Why, is Mr. Pembroke a prisoner?" cried Lucy Chapin.

"He is, Miss Chapin," Dave a.s.sured her.

"But surely, he can have done noth-"

"All he did, Miss Chapin, was to try to open the main gate of the compound wall and let in the Chinese rabble. I caught him in the act, but, beyond knocking him down, I did not have time to attend further to him just then. On the fellow's head you will observe the cut made by the b.u.t.t of my revolver when I struck him down."

"It seems so impossible to believe!" murmured Miss Chapin.

"And Mr. Pembroke, ladies, is also the rogue who once went under the name of Rogers. Further, I am convinced that this Pembroke, or Rogers, has been in league with the governor of Nu-ping, and with the governor's underlings. I am certain, in my own mind, that this fellow is largely responsible for the attack on the mission, and for all our troubles on this day and night."

Dave's plain words and his simple, straightforward manner carried conviction even to those who were, like Miss Chapin, reluctant to believe ill of the one who had called himself Pembroke.

"Marine, there!" called Dave, turning. The sea-soldier stepped over, saluting.

"You will take charge of this prisoner and be responsible for him. You will be prompt to shoot him if he tries to escape."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Dave Darrin turned to lift his cap to the ladies, but started, turned, gasped.