“I feel sure,” spoke Captain Taylor while they climbed the steep streets, “that your doubts will soon be set at rest. Mr. Lazar is a careful officer; he has shown me how he has placed his guards and it seems impossible that the arms could be taken without detection. The guns, I explained before, are in the cellar. There is but one exit, a stairway leading up to the ground floor. At the top of the stairs is a door and there two sentinels are posted night and day. Machinist’s Mate Craig, the man who was wounded in your expedition, sleeps on a cot in the cellar within reach of the boxes. So you see how well they have been guarded? The full force of the guard are encamped on the grounds of the legation and are ready for instant call.” Phil and Sydney exchanged knowing glances. Craig--Lazar’s tool! The arms were surely not in the legation! Lazar met them at the gate and saluted the captain. He bowed to the lads in mock courtesy. “I am delighted,” he said, “to see you are safe.” He did not offer his hand. He doubtless knew it would be ignored by the midshipmen. “Mr. Lazar,” Captain Taylor began merrily, “Mr. Perry and Mr. Monroe wish to be convinced that we still hold the guns securely, so I have brought them to feast their eyes on their captured arms.” “Aye, aye, sir,” replied Lazar smartly, leading the way into the legation. The boys were welcomed by both Marshall and Morrison, who would have plied them with many anxious questions, but the lads were too impatient to see the boxes in the cellar of the legation. The minister received the captain cordially. The latter explained his mission. “When you have had a look below there,” the minister said, “I would like to see you in the office. I have news that may interest you.” Reaching the cellar the lads saw Craig, looking pale and haggard, standing beside the boxes. He gave them a quick glance in which Phil thought he read terror. He had seen that same look on many human faces in the last few weeks. Lazar picked up a hatchet and bared the contents of a box. The lads peered in. There were the Colt guns: two barrels, two tripods and the accessory boxes. Phil glanced up and caught Lazar’s eye. The latter smiled confidently. “Are you satisfied?” he asked, a sneer in his voice. Phil reached for the hatchet, but Lazar ignored the motion and stepping away stood beside Captain Taylor. “That man of yours, Lazar,” said the latter in a low voice, “should not be made to sleep in this damp hole any longer. He seems to show the effects greatly. I believe I shall order him back to the ship. You can pick out another reliable man to take his place and change them often.” “I shall relieve him immediately, sir, but, with your permission, I would like to retain him with me. He is a valuable man to me.” “Have it your own way,” the captain agreed, “but don’t let him sleep there any longer; he appears a sick man.”