A loose board under Phil’s feet suddenly creaked with a ghastly sound, causing the man at the door to start and turn his face toward the hall. In that fleeting second Phil read authority and character in the quiet aristocratic face, and the next moment the Japanese gentleman went down under a sledge-hammer blow from Phil’s fist. The midshipman had mapped out his battle plan. He saw the man who had nearly squeezed out the life of the victim on the floor was powerful, and in a hand-to-hand fight Phil with all his muscular development might be worsted. The lad could take no chances. The first blow had been delivered so quietly that the second man had not divined what was going on behind him until a blow on the head from a heavy chair in the midshipman’s hands caused him to relax his muscular fingers from the blackened throat of Robert Impey. Phil gazed terrified about him. Three men lay motionless on the floor, while two of them had been stricken by his own hands. The first to fall lay deathly pale on the floor. Phil leaned over and listened for his heart beat. He had delivered a blow which he knew could hardly kill, but in the stillness of the room he would not trust his own judgment. At the man’s side, as if it had fallen from his hand, lay a large white envelope. Phil grasped it eagerly. The seal was broken, and inside lay a dozen official sheets of Japanese writing. On the outside were great black characters and the gold seal of the Emperor, now torn and mutilated. Phil’s heart rose in his throat as he suddenly realized the meaning of the attack on Impey. These men whom he had just rendered senseless were employees of the navy department--secret service men. They had tracked Impey, believing he had the stolen document. The lad, in a fever of dread, crossed to the table and extinguished the light, and then he crept away down the creeking dark stairs, his brain in a tumult. Reaching the street, he gazed fearfully about him. The place was deserted. He walked a block and then broke into a run, fleeing from the horror behind him. Not knowing which way to turn, he kept straight on until he saw several rikishas coming toward him, when he abruptly turned to his right and ran faster. “Phil! Hold up! Wait!” came joyfully to him as he slackened speed and allowed his companions to overtake him. “We’ve wasted nearly a quarter of an hour looking for you!” Sydney exclaimed as Phil trotted breathlessly at his side. “What have you been doing?” Phil evaded the question, breathing heavily as an excuse for not talking. A terrible guilt was on his mind. The secret and important letter lost by the messenger Oka, containing that which if known by America might strain the relations between the two countries, lay next his rapidly beating heart. “Where is it? What is it?”