ke he was on South Clark street, Chicago."

"Don't get gay, now!" Jimmie retorted. "I'm playin' I'm a tug towin'
this 'ere sailorman to bed."

"You've got a job on your hands," the other said, and then the three at
the table bent their heads forward and talked in whispers. Now and then
they faced toward the doorway, but Ned was then too far toward the
street for them to observe him.

They did not seem at all suspicious of Jimmie, and Ned concluded that
such occurrences were not uncommon there. Jimmie seated his companion
more firmly in his chair in a moment and passed out, stopping at the
doorway where Ned stood.

"You duck!" the boy said. "That man in there with the sailors followed
you here, an' I followed him here. You duck!"

"I haven't got the information I'm after yet," Ned said. "How in the
world did you get here?"

"Followed the chap that followed you," was the quick reply. "Out here I
come upon that beery sailor and took him in tow!"

"Good idea," Ned said. "Now, you slip past me and go up stairs, to the
room in front, and see if the man there can be gotten away. I want to
size up the men in there. I can see them by poking my head out
occasionally, but they can't see me."

"Well, you keep your gun ready," Jimmie warned. "This ain't New York,
with a cop every half block an' a taxicab always within reach. This is
Yokohama! Don't you forget that!"

"Don't remain up there long!" said Ned.

Jimmie hastened away, and Ned stood leaning against the casing of the
doorway. Then Jimmie came down the stairs at a jump, making no pretense
of secrecy, and behind him there was a rush of feet and a jumble of
foreign words.

The three men Ned had been watching sprang up from their table and
dashed toward the front of the place, and all was confusion in an
instant. The sailor who had come in with Jimmie attempted to lean
carelessly back in his chair and toppled over on the floor, where he lay
with the slippered feet of the attendants striking him in their rush for
the door.

"Run!" Jimmie cried as he approached Ned. "Hot foot! The man you sent me
to is dead, and there's a bunch of ruffians after us. Run! Beat it!"

CHAPTER XII.

PAT TAKES A BIG CHANCE.

The _Manhattan_ glided like a duck over the waters of the Bashee
Channel, South of the Island of Formosa. A week had passed since that
night in Yokohama, and Ned and Jimmie were back among the islands north
of Luzon.

It had been a close shave that ni