"Now," said Orme, "I am going to use your fire-escape for a little while."

The woman nodded.

"I want you to keep all visitors out," he continued. "Don't answer the bell. I may want to come back this way quick."

"This is straight business, isn't it? I don't want to get into no trouble."

"Absolutely straight," said Orme. "All you have to do is to leave your window open and keep quiet."

"You can count on me," she said. "Perhaps you know all about the place down there, but if you don't, I'll tell you that the fire-escape leads into his reception-room."

Orme smiled. "You seem to be acquainted with your neighbor, after all."

"I've come up the stairs when his door was open."

"Does he seem to be pretty busy with his teaching?"

"Evenings, he is. And some come in the afternoon. I always know, because they thud on the floor so when they wrestle."

"And mornings?"

"He generally seems to be away mornings."

"I fancy he's what you'd call a noisy neighbor," said Orme.

"Oh, I don't mind. There's more or less noise up here sometimes." She smiled frankly. "Spirits can make a lot of noise. I've known them to throw tables over and drag chairs all around the room."

"Well"--Orme was not interested in spirits--"be sure you don't let anybody in here until I come back."

Again she nodded. Then she went into the reception-hall and he heard her push the bolt of the door. She did not return, but her steps seemed to move into one of the other rooms.

Orme went to the window, pushed it up, and climbed out on the fire-escape. He was glad to see that the wall across the court was windowless. He might be observed from the buildings that backed up from the next street, but they apparently belonged to a large storage loft or factory. There were no idle folk at the windows.

The window of the room below was open. This was in one sense an advantage--and Orme blessed the j.a.panese athletes for their insistence on fresh air; but on the other hand, it made quietness essential.

Slowly he let himself through the opening in the platform and moved a few steps down the ladder. Then he crouched and peered through the dingy lace curtains that were swaying in the breeze.

The interior was dim, but Orme succeeded in distinguishing the furniture.

There were straw mats on the floor and several chairs stood about. At the opposite side of the room was a closed door. From his knowledge of Madame Alia's apartment, Orme knew that this door opened into the hall of the building, and the square of ground gla.s.s, with its reversed letters of the athlete's name, told him that it was used as the chief entrance.

Madame Alia preferred her clients to enter into another room.

In the farther corner of the interior Orme saw a large square table. It was covered with a red print cloth, which hung over the edge, nearly to the floor. If he could reach that table and conceal himself beneath it, his position would be better.

And now he suddenly remembered that the outline of his head would be visible against the outer light to anyone within. The room seemed to be empty, but--at that instant he heard a door open. He drew his head up.

Someone was moving about the room.

The steps went here and there. Chairs were shifted, to judge from the sound. But evidently there was only one person, for Orme could hear no voices. He decided that Arima was preparing for visitors.

Again he heard a door open and close. Had Arima gone out, or had some other person entered? Orme waited a moment, listening; no sound came from within. He lowered his head and peered. The room was empty.

Arima might return at any moment, but the chance had to be taken.

Quickly, silently, Orme descended to the platform, slid over the sill, and tip-toed over to the table. Another instant and he was under the cover.

CHAPTER X

"FIND THE AMERICAN"

As Orme let the table-cover fall back to its normal position and turned to get himself into a comfortable att.i.tude, his hand touched something soft and yielding. For a moment he was startled, but the sound of a throaty purr, and the realization that his hand was resting on fur soon told him that his companion in hiding was a cat.

He wondered whether the j.a.panese liked pets. From what little he knew of j.a.panese character it did not seem to him consistent that they should care for animals. Yet here was a peaceful tabby.

In order to accommodate himself to his close quarters, Orme had to double his legs back, resting on his thigh and supporting the upper part of his body with one hand. The cat settled down against his knee.

The light filtered redly through the table-cover. To his satisfaction he found a small hole, evidently a burn made by some careless smoker.

Through this aperture he could look out. His range of vision included the greater part of the room, excepting the side on which the table stood. He could see the window and several chairs, as well as the door into the adjoining room, but the door into the hall was out of view, at his right.

While he was looking about, a man came from the next room. Doubtless it was Arima; at least Orme recognized the j.a.panese who had overcome him in the porter's office at the Pere Marquette the night before. He stepped into the room with a little smile on his brown face. Seating himself in a chair, he fixed his heels in the rungs and clasped his hands about his knees. He was waiting.

The black eyes rested on the table. To Orme they seemed to be boring through the cover that concealed him, and he hardly dared to breathe, but the Asiatic appeared to observe nothing unusual. Orme wondered at the unfathomable intelligence of those eyes. He had often said of the Chinese and j.a.panese that he did not trust them for the reason that a Caucasian could never tell what they were thinking about. The racial difference in thought processes he found disconcerting.

A bell rang. Arima went to the door, out of view, and opened it. Orme could hear persons mounting the stairs, and presently the voice of Arima said, "Come in," and the visitors entered the room.

Pausing near the door for a moment, they exchanged a few whispered sentences. Then one of them walked over toward the window. Orme repressed an exclamation, for the figure that came into view was the figure of Poritol--dapper, a.s.sertive.

He was dressed as on the night before, and his precious high hat was hugged close to his shoulder.

His eyes roved with an exaggerated a.s.sumption of important cunning.

Presently he threw over his shoulder a rapid sentence in a foreign tongue. It sounded like Spanish, and Orme inferred that it was a dialect of Portuguese.

The answer came from an oily tongue; the voice was Alcatrante's.

What were the South Americans doing here? It was only a few hours since the j.a.panese had set on Alcatrante, yet here he was in a stronghold of the enemy--and expected! Had the astute diplomat fallen into a trap?

Arima was standing, not far from Poritol. His face was expressionless.

Looking from Alcatrante to Poritol and back again, he said in English: "The mos' honorable gentleman will soon be here."

"That is right," said Alcatrante suavely. "Mention no names."

Arima nodded slightly.

The silence grew intense. Orme was relieved when it was broken by another ring of the bell, and Arima slipped to the door. Alcatrante moved over beside Poritol and whispered a few words, scarcely moving his lips. His face looked yellow by daylight, and the eyes behind the gold spectacles were heavy-lidded and almost closed. Orme inferred that the night had been sleepless for Alcatrante.

These observations were interrupted by the entrance of the newcomer. He paused at the threshold, evidently to salute, for Poritol and Alcatrante bowed low. Then quick steps crossed the floor and into view came a nervous but a.s.sured-looking little figure--a j.a.panese, but undoubtedly a man of great dignity. His manner of sharp authority would be hard to dispute, for it was supported by a personality that seemed to be stronger than Alcatrante's. Who he was Orme could not guess, but that he was somebody of importance it was easy to see.

The stranger bowed again and addressed himself to Alcatrante. The conversation was carried on in French.