Reluctantly the midshipmen agreed to leave Langdon and the four sailors behind and make the attempt to escape in order to carry the information of the secret channel to Commander Hughes. Each felt that in doing so they might be sacrificing their friend to the revenge of Ta-Ling when he had discovered the absence of the midshipmen, but the good of the cause demanded it be so. In but a few moments the jailer led the lads back to their distasteful prison. Passing a great tub of clear water, both lads looked longingly at it and then at their soiled hands. To their delight the Chinaman smiled and motioned that they might indulge in a bath. Delightedly the lads stripped their unclean clothes from their bodies and bathed in the soothing water. Forgetful of their surroundings, with the complacent jailer sitting close by an amused spectator, they talked gayly of their hoped-for deliverance. Then the bright smiles on their faces were suddenly frozen by the sound of a voice which they had learned to dread. “You seem very cheerful for men who are soon to be executed,” Ta-Ling said in his perfect English. “What has put my good friends in such excellent spirits?” Both midshipmen were speechless with astonishment. How long had this eavesdropper been listening? Had he discovered the intrigue of the Tartar general? These were the questions that passed through their minds. They waited in cruel suspense for the next words of their enemy to answer these fateful questions. Ta-Ling turned upon the trembling jailer, berating him soundly, punctuating his words with kicks and blows which the cringing man received without a sign of resentment. “I have told him that if I saw you laughing again,” he cried angrily, “he would have his head chopped off. Your treatment here has been too kind.” Then as an afterthought the mandarin picked up Phil’s uniform blouse from the ground at his feet and searched through the pockets carefully. Phil was terrified; the plan of the yamen was in his trousers pocket on the ground at the Chinaman’s feet. If he searched through his trousers, all hope of escape would be ended. CHAPTER XII A DARING PLAN Ta-Ling threw down the coat impatiently and glanced disdainfully at the other articles of apparel. He then took up Phil’s muddy trousers gingerly as if fearful of soiling his esthetic hands. The lad’s heart was in his throat while he watched the Chinaman guardedly, striving to appear unconcerned, and cudgeling his brain for something to say in order to turn the man’s attention from a search of the guilty garment. “Why are you so bitter against my people?” Phil asked hoarsely. “Were you not educated in America?” Ta-Ling dropped the tattered garment, glancing up quickly, a scowl on his yellow face.