me way aboard the steamer.

My bag was packed again, and I was ready for tiffin and then an afternoon
nap, to be called in time to catch the steamer. My telephone rang, and I
hastened to answer it, expecting orders from the cable-office, and hoping
that London had decided, after all, to send me after the Baltic fleet to
the south, rather than to Hong-Kong.

"Is this Mr. Trenholm? This is the steamship office, Mr. Trenholm. We
wish to inform you that the _Kut Sang_ has been delayed until to-morrow
morning for cargo which did not get in to-day. Sails to-morrow sure."

It made little difference to me, and I would be glad to have a night's
sleep ashore after the rice-steamer. However, it would be wise to have
the exact sailing-time of the _Kut Sang_, so I rang up the steamship
office and asked, not wishing to run the risk of getting to the mole and
finding the steamer gone.

"She sails this afternoon at five, as noted on the board," was the
startling response to my query. I was so taken aback for a second that I
didn't know what to think or say. I remarked into the telephone that
somebody in the steamship office must take me for a fool, and that I did
not consider such things jokes.

No, they had not telephoned me the sailing was delayed; couldn't say who
had; certainly no one in the steamship office could think of doing such a
thing, which sounded reasonable enough; knew nothing whatever about a
delay, and were quite perturbed to hear I had been told there was; had no
idea how it happened, but there was no doubt the _Kut Sang_ would sail on
schedule time, for the stevedore was there in the office at that minute
getting lading-slips signed, and he knew of no delay.

"Meeker's little joke is going too far," I decided, after I had hung up
the receiver. "I think there are a few words I can say to him that will
convince him I am not to be trifled with in this manner."

Seizing my cap, I pulled the door open abruptly and almost fell over the
little red-headed beggar lurking near my room. He darted down the
stairway, and I leaped after him.

CHAPTER III

THE SPY AND THE DEAD BOATSWAIN

Three steps at a time I took the matted stairway, which was reckless
speed, for the shell-paned windows were shut, and the awnings pulled down
to keep out the heat of the blinding sun, making it quite dark. But I was
bound to capture the little red-headed man, thrash him soundly, make him
tell his motive in trailing me, and turn