row kitchen and Armitage seized the brass lamp and flung it from
him upon the hearth, where it fell with a great clatter without
exploding.

It was instantly pitch dark. The Servian had gone down like a felled ox
and Armitage at the threshold leaped over him into the hall past the rear
stairs down which the men were stumbling, cursing volubly as they came.

Armitage had assumed the existence of a front stairway, and now that he
was launched upon an unexpected adventure, he was in a humor to prolong
it for a moment, even at further risk. He crept along a dark passage to
the front door, found and turned the key to provide himself with a ready
exit, then, as he heard the men from above stumble over the prostrate
Servian, he bounded up the front stairway, gained the second floor, then
the third, and readily found by its light the room that he had observed
earlier from the outside.

Below there was smothered confusion and the crackling of matches as
Durand and Chauvenet sought to grasp the unexpected situation that
confronted them. The big servant, Armitage knew, would hardly be able
to clear matters for them at once, and he hurriedly turned over the
packets of papers that lay on the table. They were claims of one kind and
another against several South and Central American republics, chiefly for
naval and military supplies, and he merely noted their general character.
They were, on the face of it, certified accounts in the usual manner of
business. On the back of each had been printed with a rubber stamp the
words:

"Vienna, Paris, Washington.
Chauvenet et Durand."

Armitage snatched up the coat which Chauvenet had so carefully placed on
the back of his chair, ran his hands through the pockets, found them
empty, then gathered the garment tightly in his hands, laughed a little
to himself to feel papers sewn into the lining, and laughed again as he
tore the lining loose and drew forth a flat linen envelope brilliant with
three seals of red wax.

Steps sounded below; a man was running up the back stairs; and from the
kitchen rose sounds of mighty groanings and cursings in the heavy
gutturals of the Servian, as he regained his wits and sought to explain
his plight.

Armitage picked up a chair, ran noiselessly to the head of the back
stairs, and looked down upon Chauvenet, who was hurrying up with a
flaming candle held high above his head, its light showing anxiety and
fear upon his face. He was half-way up the last flig