nder, dusky of face--plainly in
intellectual capacity and breeding far above the menial position he
occupied in the house. Standing in repose, his figure was erect and well
balanced, like that of a man trained to military service.

But even as he stood subserviently by the couch of his employer, his
slender hands at his sides, there seemed to be something of the alertness
of a wild beast in his physical attitude of suppression. Somehow, he gave
Ned the impression of one about to spring forth upon an enemy.

After the presentations were made, it was with the greatest difficulty
that Lieutenant Gordon restrained himself from at once taking up the topic
he had discussed with Mr. Shaw so unsatisfactorily that afternoon--the
subject of the plot against the Gatun dam. What did the editor know? What
did he suspect concerning the raid on his home? Did he believe that the
plotters had opened their defense right there in the city of New York?

However, he curbed his hasty impulse, knowing that the information he
sought was not to be obtained in that way. Mr. Shaw was looking upon the
matter entirely from the standpoint of an enterprising journalist, and
would be cautious about giving out his own discoveries and impressions.

"Are you still suffering from the effects of the chloroform?" asked the
lieutenant, anxiously.

"I'm still a little weak," was the reply, "and still a little tippy at the
stomach, but Benson tells me that I shall be well again in an hour."

"You were of course attacked without warning," the lieutenant continued,
half hoping that the editor would enter into a full and frank discussion
of the event.

"Entirely so," was the reply. "I was sitting at my desk when the door was
opened and some one entered. I thought it was Pedro, for I had just rung
for him, and did not look around. Then I was seized from behind and a
handkerchief soaked with chloroform thrust into my face."

"You did not see your assailant?" asked Ned.

"Now for the cross-examination," laughed the editor. "I have heard
something of Mr. Nestor's work in the secret service," he added, "and
shall be glad to answer any of his questions. Go ahead, my boy. No, to
answer your first question, I did not see my assailant, and do not know
whether there were two or only one."

"Did you notice the time?" asked Ned, modestly.

"Yes, it was nine o'clock. The next I knew, Pedro was lifting me onto the
couch, and a maid was lifting her voice to high heav