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Updated: June 21, 2025
They've fooled us. That honorable burglar of yours got the wrong envelope." Alcatrante snatched the papers. "'Prospectus," he read, "'of the Last Dare Mining Company. But I do not understand." The Japanese glared at him angrily. "If you had kept out of this business," he snapped, "and let Maku attend to it, everything would have been right. Now your burglars have spoiled it."
Orme's fatigue was so great that he repeated the question to himself several times without seeing any meaning in it. He forced his tired brain back to the first statement. Maku had lost something. Yes, he had lost something. What was it he had lost? Oh, yes, a paper. It was futile. His brain refused to work. Maku had lost a paper. A paper? "Ah!" Orme was awake now. "How stupid!" he exclaimed.
He would have liked to take it as a souvenir, if for no other reason, but time was short and Maku, who evidently was not seriously hurt, showed signs of returning consciousness. Another occurrence also hastened him. A man was strolling along the lake shore, not far away. Orme had not seen his approach, though he was distinctly outlined against the open background of lake and sky.
His pursuer either took the wrong lead in the darkness or stopped to examine Maku, if or when Orme went through the gate and doubled back, outside the fence, to the car, there was no sound of steps behind him. He jumped to the chauffeur's seat. "Well?" inquired the girl, eagerly. "Too late," said Orme. "I'm sorry. I caught Maku, but the man with the envelope got away." She laid a hand on his arm.
Flattened in a shadowed niche of the wall beside him was Maku! "Hello!" the Japanese said again. "Well?" exclaimed Orme sharply, trying to make the best of the situation. "You mus' not follow me." The Japanese spoke impassively. "Follow you?" "I saw you in a mirror at the other end of car." So that was it!
Porter swung around toward it and called: "Need help?" After a moment's wait, a voice replied: "Yes. You tow me to Chicago. I pay you." It was a voice which Orme recognized as that of the Japanese who had been with Maku in the attack at the Père Marquette. "Can't do that," answered Porter. "I'll take you in to Evanston." "No!" The tone was expostulatory. "I go to Chicago.
"I don't believe he is. But, of course, you never know." "That's true," said Orme. "One never knows." As the car plunged onward, Maku suddenly put his hand in his pocket. He drew it out empty. On his face was an expression which may mean "surprise," among the Japanese. He then fumbled in his other pockets, but apparently he did not find what he was looking for. Orme wondered what it might be.
When Orme still made no move to leave his seat, the steely fingers on his wrist ran up his forearm and pressed down hard upon a nerve-center. The pain was almost unbearable, and for the moment his arm was paralyzed. A quick jerk brought him to the ground. As he alighted, stumblingly, Maku caught him by the other arm. He was held in such a way that for the moment it seemed futile to struggle.
And after we pass the elevated there's other car-lines they're more likely to take, where the cars run frequenter." "Do you go to the heart of the city?" "No, we stop at the barns. Say, have you noticed that Jap in there?" The conductor nodded toward Maku. "What about him?" "He was put aboard by a cop. Looks as though somebody had slugged him." "That's so," commented Orme. "His head is bandaged."
Orme, of course, found in it a corroboration of his guess. Maku evidently did not wish suspicion directed against the motor-boat. The policeman re-entered the station, eager to avail himself of the information which Maku was now disposed to give him. Orme turned to the life-saver. "The Jap is lying," he said. "Think so?" "Of course.
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