ape. 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 Japanese 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 glass, 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 attitude, his hand touched something
soft and y