"Ha! Then it was you who were tricked--outwitted. That American reached the tree before you last evening and subst.i.tuted these papers. Go back to j.a.pan, Arima. I don't need you."

Arima bowed submissively. As for the stranger, his rage gave way to despair.

"What shall I say to the Emperor?" he muttered. "What shall I say to the Emperor?"

Then his feelings came again under control; he looked calmly at Alcatrante. "Well," he said, "what would you suggest?"

Alcatrante's face was a puzzle. Every shade of doubt, disappointment, anger, suspicion, and shrewd deduction pa.s.sed over it. He was putting into play that marvelous power of concentration on subtle issues that had enabled him to play so brilliantly the role of international under-dog.

At last he smiled and spoke.

"Find the American," he said.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Arima looked at his master, who nodded indifferently and said: "Yes, see who it is. It can do no harm now."

Orme heard the door open. What startled him first was the action of Poritol, who stepped back to the wall, his jaw dropping, his face a picture of embarra.s.sment and fright. Alcatrante and the stranger showed amazement.

For a moment they stood thus in silence, and then from the door came a clear voice:

"What? You here, Mr. Alcatrante? And the j.a.panese minister?"

Orme almost sprang from his hiding-place. The voice was the voice of the girl!

CHAPTER XI

THE WAY OUT

The sound of the girl's voice brought the men in the room to life. Her words were shaded to a tone of fearless scorn which must have bitten deep, for Alcatrante and the j.a.panese minister looked like school-boys caught in wrong-doing. The South American gnawed at his lip; the j.a.panese looked at the floor, and Orme now realized that the manner which had seemed so indicative of a masterful personality was the manner which springs from power--the manner that is built upon the a.s.surance of a tremendous backing.

The tension was broken by Poritol. The little man's dismay suddenly gave way to an eager and voluble excitement, and he rushed across the room, exclaiming: "Oh, my dear miss----"

"No names," commanded Alcatrante harshly, turning on his subordinate.

"My dear young lady," continued Poritol breathlessly, "I am the victim of your misunderstanding. You will permit me to explain."

She answered with an even, cutting edge in her voice: "You cannot explain, Mr. Poritol."

"But----" he began, blind to her meaning.

"I do not care to hear you," she said; and Poritol slunk back to his former position. From his face it was clear that he had no desire except to get away.

Meantime Alcatrante aroused himself. "My friend here"--he indicated the j.a.panese--"and myself are here on business which concerns our two nations. Your appearance, I presume, is due to a desire to engage the professional services of Mr. Arima. Or perhaps you were trying to find the fortune-teller upstairs." He barely repressed his sneer.

The girl did not answer. She had remained by the door, and but for the att.i.tudes of the others, Orme would not have known but that she had gone.

As it was, he could read in their bearing the disconcerting effects of her continued disdain.

The j.a.panese spoke. "Will you enter, miss, or shall we direct you on your way? Arima will come out and talk with you, if you so wish."

Still no answer. To Orme, in his hiding, there was something uncanny in her failure to respond. But he could picture her--Truth, calm in the presence of subterfuge.

"Will you not state your desire?" Again the j.a.panese. He was smiling now, with the false politeness of his race.

And then she spoke: "That envelope on the floor was stolen from my father's home. It bears my father's name."

Before Alcatrante could stop him, little Poritol, with some vague hope of making amends, had s.n.a.t.c.hed up the torn envelope and taken it to her. He returned to the range of Orme's vision with an air of virtuous importance.

"The contents," said the girl--"where are the papers?"

Alcatrante and the j.a.panese looked at each other. It was as if they said, "In view of our failure we might as well make a clean breast of it." But Alcatrante was too cunning to take the initiative in confession. He left that to the j.a.panese, who spoke unhesitatingly.

"The only papers in the envelope were these." He picked up the torn prospectuses from the floor and held them extended in his hand. "Our surprise is as great as yours."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Whether you believe it or not, my dear young lady, it is true."

There was a moment of silence, then the j.a.panese continued: "We have reason to think that the envelope was for a time last night in the possession of an American, and that he subst.i.tuted these circulars for whatever the envelope may have held."

Orme's impulse to declare himself was almost irresistible. A man whose instincts were less cautious would have thrown the table over and ranged himself beside the girl. Orme was not fearful, but he knew that the chances of a successful outcome would be lessened by exposure. Even if he and the girl got safely from the room, there would be a pursuit, and the risk of losing the papers would be great.

As for the girl, she clearly was in no danger. These men would not harm her.

But would the a.s.sertion of the j.a.panese lead her to doubt Orme? Would she believe that he had actually recovered the papers the night before and kept them for his own purposes? He remembered that he had given her only the scantiest account of his adventure at the tree, for he had wished to spare her the details of an incident that meant her disappointment as well as his own. She might now readily attribute his reticence to a desire to conceal something.

And then came her voice. Her first words brought a glow to Orme's heart: "I know that you are mistaken. No American has those papers." Orme breathed his relief. Then she added the dubious word--"Unless----"

So she did doubt him after all. Well, he could not blame her. The scene in the room--the frankness of the j.a.panese, which could only be attributed to discomfiture; the empty envelope; the torn prospectuses on the floor, all these conditions pointed to the truth of the explanation she had heard.

On the other hand, there was his appearance on the lake, an hour or more after the episode on the campus. Might it not occur to her that, had he already secured the papers, he would have had no object in the further pursuit of the j.a.panese? But, perhaps she would think that he was seeking Arima to sell the papers back to him; or that, in spite of his appearance of surprise, he had been a witness of her abduction and had gone out on the water to save her. There were so many things she might think! Indeed, that dubious word "unless" might even signify, "unless he has secured the papers since I last saw him." But no; she would gather from the situation in which she found her enemies that the envelope had not been out of their possession since it was taken from the tree. Orme shut his lips together hard. Her doubt of him would have to be endured, even though it shattered his pleasant dream of her complete and sympathetic understanding.

Alcatrante, meantime, was studying the girl with curious eyes. His look was both perplexed and admiring.

"Do you mind telling me how you happened to come to this place?" he asked.

She answered indifferently: "Supposing that the j.a.panese had stolen the papers, I searched Maku's room at our house. There was a torn envelope there, with the name 'Arima' printed in the corner."

Alcatrante bowed. "You are cleverer than most Americans, my dear young lady," he said. His lips curved into a smile that disclosed his fangs.

"That," she replied, "is as it may be. But I have not your admiration for trickery, Mr. Alcatrante."

Again he smiled. "Ah," he exclaimed, "trickery is the detail work of diplomacy." Then with a shade of seriousness in his voice, he asked: "Why did you use that word 'unless'?"

"Why, indeed?" She made this noncommittal answer, and if Alcatrante had hoped to soothe her into friendliness and draw from her a clue to her suspicions, he was disappointed.

There was another period of silence, broken at last by the j.a.panese. "The fact that we have failed, my dear young lady," he said, "makes concealment unnecessary. I know, of course, that this matter will never become public. You understand that the representatives of great nations often have to take steps which, as private citizens, they would never think of."