which, throughout the operation,
had dangled from his left wrist. With each blow, old Pablo tossed a
pleasantry at his victim, who took the dreadful scourging without an
outcry, never ceasing a dogged effort to twist loose from his bonds
until his straining and flinching loosed the ancient rusty nails at top
and bottom of the upright, and, with a crash, the Oriental fell
headlong backward on the porch, as a tree falls. Thereupon, Pablo
kicked him half a dozen times for good measure, and proceeded to roll
him over and over along the porch toward his room. Eventually this
procedure unwound him from the riata; Pablo then removed the loop, and
Okada staggered into his room and fell, half fainting, on his bed.

His honor now quite clean, Pablo departed from the patio. He had been
less than five minutes on his mission of vengeance, and when John
Parker and his wife came out of the dining-room, the sight of the
imperturbable old majordomo unconcernedly coiling his "twine" roused in
them no apprehension as to the punishment that had overtaken Okada.

Having finished their luncheon--a singularly pleasant
_tete-a-tete_--Don Mike and Kay joined Mr. and Mrs. Parker. At once
Farrel's glance marked the absence of the porch column.

"I declare," he announced, with mock seriousness, "a portion of my
veranda has given way. I wonder if a man could have been tied do it.
I heard a crash, and at the time it occurred to me that it was a heavy
crash--heavier than the weight of that old porch column would produce.
Mr. Parker, may I suggest that you investigate the physical condition
of our Japanese friend? He is doubtless in his room."

Parker flashed his host a quick glance, almost of resentment, and went
to Okada's room. When he returned, he said soberly:

"Pablo has beaten the little fellow into a pitiable condition. He tied
him to that porch column and flogged him with a quirt. While I cannot
defend Okada's action in releasing Loustalot, nevertheless, Mr.
Farrel--" Don Mike's black eyes burned like live coals.
"Nevertheless--I--well--" Parker hesitated.

Don Mike's lips were drawn a trifle in the ghost of a smile that was
not good to see.

"I think, sir," he said softly, distinctly, and with chill suavity,
"that Mr. Okada might be grateful for the services of the excellent
Murray, if the potato baron is, as I shrewdly suspect he will be,
leaving within five minutes."

"Good Heavens, man, I believe it will be an hour befo