Randall turned upon him, an angry frown on his face. “I don’t see, stranger, as that’s any of your concern,” he replied shortly. “Just a little friendly question, Mr. Randall,” O’Neil said evenly. “May I inquire if Mr. Impey is going with you?” Randall’s face turned suddenly pale, and the hand holding the morning paper shook perceptibly. “You know entirely too much,” he cried unguardedly. “Oh, ho!” O’Neil exclaimed, “and the yellow boy there off the stage. I see he’s in the party too, eh?” Randall had stepped between the shafts of a rikisha into which he was about to enter, with one foot on the step. After all, what had he to fear from this American sailor? The jig was up, and perhaps he could be made useful. Why then make an enemy of him? “I am going to the English Hatoba,”[3] he replied quickly; “meet us there and I’ll answer your questions.” When O’Neil and Marley arrived at the landing Randall and his friends were already in a little naphtha launch. “Get in,” Randall invited. The sailors waved good-bye to Sago, who was waiting for the “Alaska’s” steamer, and were soon alongside a trim little sea-going yacht anchored just inside the breakwater. “That isn’t my flag,” Randall exclaimed in a relieved voice as he stepped over the side, and pointing to the British ensign at the yacht’s gaff, “but it gives me a nice comfortable feeling of security. I have been jumping at my shadow for the last six months.” Randall led the way into the forward cabin. After the two Americans were seated he surveyed them for several minutes in silence. “What do you know about me and Mr. Impey?” he asked finally. “Bill and I saw you go away with him in his motor yesterday after you left us at Billy Williams’,” the sailor answered, “after telling us that you didn’t know him.” “I don’t tell all I know to every chance acquaintance,” Randall returned; “but now as it’s all over with us I don’t mind answering your question. Mr. Impey owns this yacht, and is taking Mr. Wells and me for a little trip for our health.” Randall wore a good-natured grin upon his face as he continued. “Mr. Impey found a very important letter yesterday, or at least Wells found it and gave it to him, and then he got robbed and was left senseless in his house last night after he had broken the seal and read it. That’s why we are changing our climate. Japan is getting a little too hot for our comfort.” “What kind of looking letter was it?” O’Neil asked seriously, his hand in his blouse where the Japanese document was concealed. “Was it in English?” he asked. “No, in Japanese, of course, and sealed with the big red seal of the Mikado,” Randall replied. “Who read it?” O’Neil asked. “I thought you said it was in Japanese.” “So I did. Mr. Impey read it. He knows their fly tracks by heart; he’s a wizard on Oriental languages,” Randall answered quickly. “What did your letter say?” O’Neil asked earnestly. His fingers had closed upon the one hidden in his blouse.