As the last act, Sampson relaxed his watch over his excellency. Signs were made to the governor’s chair bearers to take their lord back to the yamen. Nor did the departure of the governor take any time at all. “Well done, Darrin! Fine, Dalzell!” boomed the hearty voice of Lieutenant-Commander Tuthill as the two young officers stepped on the deck of the gunboat. “Every man under your command has behaved like an American!” Then, as his eye roved to Pembroke, standing under marine guard, he asked: “How came Mr. Pembroke to be in trouble?” “Attempted treachery,” Darrin responded. “I caught him trying to open the yamen gate to the Chinese rebels.” Tuthill’s brow darkened. “Pembroke, I did not think that of you, sir. You have a heavy burden of guilt! You will be taken down to the brig and locked up until I can decide what is to be done in your case, sir.” After Pembroke had been marched below, to go behind bars, the commander of the gunboat continued, in a low tone to Darrin: “I am afraid not much of anything can be done with him. He is a British subject, I suppose, and guilty of an offense committed on Chinese soil. The most that I can do will be to keep him locked up until to-morrow, and then turn him loose. Perhaps the Chinese will take care of him. The ladies are waiting in the wardroom to thank Dalzell and yourself. You had both better go inside.” “I’d rather face the Chinese again,” laughed Dan, “than have to stand and be thanked by a lot of women.” An hour later the ladies were established for the night, several of the officers’ quarters having been given over to them. The American missionaries and civilians, like the sailors, were obliged to sleep in hammocks. Just as Dave was seeking a mattress on the floor of the wardroom Surgeon Oliver hurried in. “Darrin,” began the medical man, “did you know that Pembroke was badly hurt?” “By the blow I gave him on the head?” queried the young ensign, wheeling. “No, though that was quite bad enough. A stray bullet hit the fellow in the side, and he bound it up as best he could. He tells me that the shot hit him before you struck him down—perhaps an hour earlier.” “If I had known that,” murmured Darrin, “he would have had somewhat softer handling.” “Pembroke is really in a bad way,” continued the surgeon. “I have had him removed from the brig to the sick-bay, and have put a hospital attendant on watch over him to-night.” “Is he going to die?” asked Ensign Darrin. “Can’t say; I think not. But what brought me here is the fact that Pembroke asked if he might see you.” “Now?” “Yes.” “Certainly.” Dave was tired out. Danny Grin was already sound asleep on a mattress on the floor. Darrin had been yawning heavily, but now the call of humanity appealed to him. “I’ll go with you, Doctor,” Dave added, and followed the surgeon. In a bunk down in the sick bay Pembroke tossed uneasily, his face a bright red. “Here is Mr. Darrin, Pembroke,” announced the medical officer.