ushed up and a tousled head appeared. Other sashes were pushed up in
an instant, and pigtailed heads and slanting, evil eyes were in view.

"I guess they're keepin' cases on the kid!" Jimmie thought, as he made
an almost imperceptible motion toward Hans. "It would be pretty poor, I
reckon, if I could get up there," he added, not meaning that it would be
"pretty poor" at all, but, on the contrary, a very good move indeed.

While the lad watched the window, from which the tousled head had now
disappeared, some of the other windows closed. The natives were
evidently in no mood to lose their sleep because of a foreign-devil
noise in the middle of the night.

The little fellow was certain that the head he had for a moment seen was
that of Hans, the Philadelphia Boy Scout who had been so strangely
encountered during the visit of the submarine to an island off the coast
of China. He knew, too, that the German understood that something
unusual and hostile to his friends was going on below.

He did not stop to consider the means by which Hans had reached the city
of Tientsin and that particular building. He accepted it for granted
that he was there, and wondered just what steps he, the German, would be
apt, or able, to take in the emergency which threatened the failure of
the mission to Peking.

Presently the voices of the marine officer, the official who had been
summoned by the assistant manager, and Ned reached his ears. The
officer was clearly in an angry mood and Ned was trying his persuasive
powers on the newcomer.

"Are you an officer of the telegraph company?" the officer asked, in an
angry tone.

"I am not," was the equally discourteous rejoinder. "I am a private
detective employed, by the manager here. It is my duty to look after
just such cases as this."

"Well," Ned said, calmly, "ask any questions you desire and we will
answer them frankly. I came to China at the request of the Washington
government, and am to receive instructions here. The operator tells me
that there is a cablegram here for me, but refuses to deliver it on the
ground that I may be an impostor."

"I think he has you sized up right," grated the detective.

"Then we may as well be going," Ned said, still coolly. "There is
nothing for us to do now but try to establish our identity before the
American consul."

The boy moved toward the door as he spoke, but the brawny detective
obstructed his passage to the outer room. Ned drew