“Where you get him?” the Japanese asked, making a quick grab for the letter and in his excitement forgetting to speak good English. “Belay there!” O’Neil cried angrily. “I’ll hold it right here and you can read it backward[2] to us.” “This very serious,” Sago exclaimed fearfully. “If some one see us we all go to Japanese jail. That Emperor’s letter. More better you take quick back to Tokyo.” “Not on your life. I am going to know what these officers were so anxious about,” O’Neil declared while Marley wagged his head in confirmation of his chum’s sentiment. “If you’re as good an American as you try to make us believe you are, you’d read it instead of trembling there like a Chinaman about to get his head chopped off.” Sago read the letter slowly to himself. After his first surprise his natural sagacity asserted itself. He knew that the real contents of this letter should not be told the sailors. He trembled at the thought of knowing it himself. He must satisfy these two determined men and then endeavor to get the letter into his captain’s hands. Sago saw that a military secret had been taken from a nation which prided itself upon its power to keep such secrets. “That say nothing.” Sago had expelled the anxiety from his voice. “Read it,” O’Neil demanded. “It says that next month Japanese navy will have very big drills and that all ships will be present to be reviewed by the Emperor.” Sago looked up, his face now quite composed. “There is plenty more, but all orders of the admiral what each ship is to do.” Sago had made this up quickly and O’Neil and Marley saw no reason to doubt the honesty of his translation. “If I’d known that was all there was to it, I wouldn’t have taken the trouble of throttling that little Jap for it last night,” O’Neil exclaimed in disgust. “I’d let him have it, for I suppose that’s what he was after when he was hunting through my clothes.” “Where?” Sago asked quickly. “In that joint of a hotel where Bill and I put up. They searched our room while we was asleep, but this was next to me under my shirt.” Sago looked worried. “Where you get him?” he asked excitedly, touching the letter with his hand. “I found it on the stage of that theatre after the row last night,” said O’Neil placidly. “I was goin’ to hand it to Mr. Perry, but he got away before I could slip it to him on the quiet.” O’Neil had made up his mind to know more of the movements of Randall, and with this intention in mind he placed himself deliberately in his path on the station platform when the train had arrived at Yokohama, a good-natured smile on his Irish face. Randall appeared nervously apprehensive as he gazed about him, while his older companion and the half-breed servant hurried ahead in the direction of the entrance to the station. “Going away?” O’Neil asked shortly, falling into step at Randall’s side. “Taking a little trip for my health,” was the answer. “Where you going?” O’Neil insisted.