y, Roger De Puyster, hero of that swanking tale
"Death before Dishonor" to disregard such trifles as revolver shots and
threats of death. But as for Martin Blake, law clerk, well, he
squatted low and hugged close in his corner. No panic gripped him, but
the instinct of self-preservation is a primal instinct. Martin's
condition of mind, for the moment, was that bromidic state, "better
imagined than described."

Chiefly, he was astonished. He, Martin Blake, had at last encountered
a real adventure! He, the obscure law clerk and messenger, whose
existence was a drab routine, whose every act must favor dull
convention, had suddenly tumbled into the meshes of a dark intrigue,
undoubtedly unlawful, where men's violent passions were given free rein.

In the short space of a half-hour, he had witnessed an abduction, been
assaulted, imprisoned, murderously shot at! These things had happened
to him, to Mrs. Meagher's star boarder, to Martin Blake, the despised
quill-pusher! There was in Martin's mood, as he crouched there in the
corner, that transcended his anger, his wonder, his fear, something
that was close akin to exhilaration.

It was very still. His thumping heart seemed to him to be the only
sound that reached his straining ears.

What was going on out there in the big room? He had not heard Carew's
voice. Was the captain still there? Was Spulvedo crouching without
the door, pistol raised, waiting for him to "keek"? Where were the
mysterious Japanese? What were they--Carew's men or Dr. Ichi's?

Strange thing about that envelope. Martin had been as much surprised
as Carew at the contents. What kind of a game were Smatt and Ichi
playing, sending him with injunctions of secrecy to deliver sheets of
blank paper? Carew declared the envelope had been tampered with, but
Martin knew better. It had not left his possession. Had Smatt
foreseen the reception that would be accorded his messenger? He did
not doubt it. Smatt was a cold-blooded fish; he would not hesitate to
risk his clerk's skin if a dollar profit were in sight. Did Smatt and
Ichi know about the abduction--the imprisonment of that girl who
masqueraded in the gray overcoat?

Aye, the girl--that was the important thing! Who was she? Where had
she been taken? If he could only get word to the police! He had no
fears for himself, at least, not many. When Carew had adjusted the
matter of the envelope with Smatt and Ichi, why, of course, he would