“What could we’ve done, sir?” An oppressive silence had descended upon the sailors; but a single one mustered up courage to half defend his companions’ actions. “We couldn’t just sit tight and watch; now could we, sir?” This last was said appealingly. “No. I suppose it was natural,” Phil admitted grudgingly, “but now you know that you’ve been ‘buncoed,’ just turn about there and we will try to smuggle you out without another disturbance.” Takishima was at a loss to understand the cause of the trouble. His great fear was that it had come about through the general ill feeling being spread broadcast in Japan by the Japanese newspaper, the “Shimbunshi.” As Marley called the midshipmen’s attention to the flag, the lieutenant turned about hastily, his face showing perplexity. “An American flag,” he exclaimed in English. “I can’t understand. This is a scene from our last war. Could it have been a plot? You say the man who carried it was a foreigner. Yes, it was a plot, devised to bring on a fight between you and our people.” Meanwhile Impey, as he lay unconscious on the floor of his office with the two men who had endeavored to take from him the stolen document, themselves senseless near him, might, if he had known, felt proud of the plot which had all but succeeded in precipitating a riot. While the events at the theatre were taking place the two defeated secret service men slowly came to consciousness. Impey lay inert, half dead on the floor. They rose defeated, mystified, for neither had seen his assailant. The precious document had gone. They quietly slunk off down the stairs to lay before their chief, Captain Inaba, the sad story of their failure after having the lost paper within their grasp. The American sailors on the stage were lost in admiration at the dignified manner in which Lieutenant Takishima stemmed the tide of anger. At first beyond control, threatening to attack the score of sailormen who had outraged the spirits of those who had fallen in their last war, the crowd grew quieter until the people suddenly became silent, intently listening to the lieutenant’s calmly spoken words. What he was saying the Americans did not know, but they saw that he held their attention upon an order worn upon the breast of his full dress uniform. It was the order of the rising sun; the sacred emblem of their Emperor was the mystic talisman that cast an hypnotic spell over that vast assemblage and forced them to listen to reason. “That’s the most marvelous thing I’ve ever seen.” Sydney’s excited whisper brought forth what was almost a cheer from the astounded Americans. The Japanese audience gave way; moving as one man back toward their seats, their upturned faces were again good-natured. Loud cheers of “banzai” echoed through the theatre, while several strong voices were raised at different points of the house, followed by cries of agreement from the multitude. Takishima had turned toward the Americans, and was speaking to them in English.