Suddenly Phil was wrenched nearly off his feet, and then fell backward against the wall, the torn coat of the man in his hands, while the escaping prisoner melted into the night. Hand over hand, up the rope, it was but the work of a second to the top of the wall, and there he found an anxious group of officers and men who had watched, with bated breath, the struggle below them. Phil explained the circumstances at once to Lieutenant Wilson. “I feel sure they’re concealed all about here,” he ended excitedly. “I heard answers to the man’s cries.” Lieutenant Wilson turned to Langdon, who had been an eager listener. “Is it an attack, Langdon?” he asked anxiously. Langdon shook his head, much mystified, then the garment in Phil’s hand caught his eye. He took it from the lad in silence and carried it down from the wall, entering the small gate-house inside the compound. “Keep a strict watch, Mr. Monroe,” the lieutenant ordered, motioning Phil to follow him, and together they entered the room where Langdon was carefully examining the garment. It was a blue tunic, plain save for a white border and a number of Chinese written characters on its back. It was this lettering that Langdon was studying. “Viceroy Chang-Li-Hun,” he read slowly aloud. Then he glanced up, a worried expression on his usually calm face. “Mr. Wilson,” he said, “it’s serious; we’ve the viceroy’s soldiers against us.” CHAPTER IV THE EMBASSY TO THE VICEROY If the man with whom Phil had fought was a soldier of the viceroy, it was indeed convincing evidence that the outlaws were receiving aid of the official class. Lieutenant Wilson at once saw the seriousness of the situation for all foreigners living within the provinces under the jurisdiction of Viceroy Chang-Li-Hun. The American naval man knew that his duty required him to place this information in the hands of his commanding officer on board the “Phœnix” immediately, in order that all the foreign powers represented might know that the threatened uprising was no longer one of unorganized, misguided coolies or working men, but was at the instigation of the powerful mandarins, receiving their instructions, no doubt, directly from the viceroy himself. Did he dare take the risk of sending messengers out of the mission at this time when the enemy were doubtless gathered about the walls of the compound, perhaps even now making up their minds to attack the defending garrison? Yet in the morning affairs might have grown even worse: the morrow’s sun might see the mission besieged, and every outlet barred.