that she was watching his every move, he glanced at
the car, then up the road to the north. Then, with such quickness that
the policeman had no time to prevent, he snatched from the inner pocket
of his coat the envelope containing the blank contract which had first
disappointed Arima, and tossed it into the tonneau.

"Go!" he shouted.

Like a shot, she sent the car forward. It disappeared swiftly into the
night.

Thus far, Orme was satisfied. He had got the girl safely away. She
thought that he had thrown the papers into the car, and when she came to
examine them she would be disappointed, but Orme felt that she would then
understand--that she would continue to trust him.

As the car darted away the policeman swung his club at Orme.

Before the blow could strike, the upraised arm was caught by a little
hand and with a quick jerk, the policeman was pulled to the ground. His
revolver, which he held in his left hand, went off as he fell, and a
leaf, cut from a tree above by the bullet, sailed into Orme's face.

The policeman lay helpless in the cunning hold of Maku--Maku, who, fully
restored to his senses, had crept up to save Arima from the law.

Orme wondered whether the girl had heard the shot. Probably not, for she
was driving into the wind. But he had no time to consider the point, for
Arima, suddenly conscious of freedom, leaped for the remaining car. He
had the papers; he would hurry them safely to his master, leaving Orme
and the policeman to the mercies of his reviving confederates.

The papers were still first in his thoughts. And why not? Orme remembered
the scathing rebuke by the Japanese minister. In the flash of thought
that preceded his own action he realized that the recovering of the
papers was Arima's one means of righting himself.

As Arima grasped the steering-wheel of the car and threw on the clutch,
Orme ran behind the tonneau. His action was swiftly calculated to give
the impression that he was dodging around the car in the hope of escaping
on foot.

That is what Arima might have thought, had he glanced around--what Maku
might have thought, had he done more than throw one swift glance at
Arima, then devote himself again to the prostrate officer.

But Orme, reaching upward, got his hands over the high back of the
tonneau. He hung on tightly, raising his feet from the ground. The car
plunged forward.

For a time Orme merely kept his position. The dust whirled up in his
face, and he had to