“There,” said Dick, with a breath of relief, when the Chinamen were gone. “I’m glad to get rid of them. What in the name of all that is wonderful do you suppose they wanted of that queer little stick? I believe that one of them would have paid the five hundred for it.” “I believe he would have paid more,” said Frank. “He went up to five hundred with a rush. It would have been scarcely less surprising had he offered five thousand.” “And I was sure at one time that they were going to draw weapons on us. I believe they did mean to do so.” “If so, they quickly changed their minds. Let’s go up to the room and see if Diamond is there. We can look the stick over, and see what can be made of it.” Diamond was not in Frank’s room. When they had removed their overcoats, Frank produced the remarkable stick, and they began to inspect it. Merry fancied there might be a hidden spring that would cause it to fly open and reveal a secret of some sort, but a search failed to show that there was anything of the kind connected with the stick. Indeed, the stick appeared to be nothing more than a simple piece of solid black wood, upon which were some very strange characters. While they were engaged in examining it there came a knock on the door. On opening the door, Merry saw a hotel-boy, behind whom stood the stranger who had accompanied Inza. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Merriwell,” said this man; “but I took the liberty to come right up with the boy. You have something that belongs to me.” “I have?” “Yes.” “What?” “That!” The man had stepped forward and was pointing at the little black stick in Frank’s hand. Starbright uttered a smothered exclamation. “I’m in luck to find it,” said the stranger, passing the boy and entering the room. “I congratulate myself.” “This?” muttered Frank—“this yours?” “It is. I presume you must have picked it up on the sidewalk near where the encounter with those mashers took place?” “Yes.” “I thought I lost it there.” “You dropped it?” “I did. But I did not discover the loss till some time later. When I did so, I turned about and ran back to that corner. You had gone.” “Then what?” “I searched all around for it, but could not find it.” “After that?” “I tried to find you. I hastened along Twenty-third Street, and I was in luck. After turning into Broadway I saw you.” “The Chinamen——” “Were doing their best to get you to give up the stick. If you had shown an inclination to do so, I was determined to step forward and object, even though it would place my life in the greatest peril.” “Place your life in peril? How?” The bell-boy had disappeared, and Frank closed the door, which the stranger left open on entering. “The life of any American, or any man not a Chinaman and a member of a strange secret order, is in constant peril if that stick remains in his possession,” asserted the stranger seriously. The mystery was growing deeper. “Then my life must be in peril?” questioned Frank. “It is.”