had seen his reflection.

At this instant another man appeared, close behind Arima. A bandage was
wrapped around his head. It was Maku, who presumably had been in the
apartment all the time.

Orme stood little chance of overcoming the two. Quick as cats, with
muscles like steel springs and a great variety of scientific tricks of
offense and defense, they could handle him as they willed in a direct
encounter. If Orme had had a revolver, he would now have drawn it. Yet he
knew that this was not a case for fire-arms. Obviously, if he used a
dangerous weapon in these men's rooms and was afterward caught, it would
fare hard with him, for the real facts would be suppressed and he would
be sentenced as an ordinary housebreaker, perhaps with some clemency due
to his personal standing.

A quick intuition told him that he would not escape lightly if they
fairly got their hands on him. The two Japanese had hitherto shown much
patience with him. Their desire seemed to have been to avoid hurting him
any more than was necessary. But there is a limit to Japanese patience.
The scathing words of the Japanese minister must still be burning in
Arima's brain. And Maku, who had controlled himself while Orme was
following him through the streets of the North Side, no longer had a
diplomatic reason for restraining his rage against the man who had struck
him down. In any event, the eyes of Arima and Maku glittered angrily, and
Orme realized that he could expect no mercy.

He caught up a chair and raised it over his head, prepared to bring it
down on Arima, who was only a few feet from him and coming fast.

The Japanese raised his arms, to fend the expected blow. With sudden
inspiration, Orme hurled the chair at his opponent's feet. There was a
crash. Arima sprawled headlong. Maku, who was close behind, tried to leap
over Arima, but his feet went through the rungs of the chair, and he,
too, crashed to the floor.

As he threw the chair Orme leaped back. Before the Japanese could get out
of their tangle, he had jumped over the window-sill and was running up
the fire-escape. Madame Alia, was at her window, a look of startled
inquiry on her face. She stepped back as he crowded into the room.

"Quick!" he said. "They'll be after me. Hide me somewhere."

"Come!" She took his sleeve and pulled him to a corner. There she pushed
aside the dingy hanging and Orme saw that the wall was covered with a
wainscoting that ran from floor to ceiling.

T