He could see the two men coming toward him. They were outlined against the radiance from the motor-cars. Cautiously he stepped toward the south, hoping that they would pass him in the darkness, but he dared not move rapidly, lest a stumble or the breaking of a twig betray him. All this time the engines of the two cars had continued to work, and their muffled chug-chug-chug helped to cover the noise of footsteps. What pleased him most was to see, out of the corner of his eye, that the girl had taken advantage of her release to climb to the chauffeur's seat of the car in which Maku had brought them from Chicago. That meant that, if he could reach the car, they might get away. But the papers---- By this time Orme was between his pursuers and the road. He stopped and groped about till he found a fair-sized stone, then worked toward the edge of the grove. The moment was at hand to make a dash. Ten steps would take him to the car; then a leap into the tonneau, and off to the northward he and the girl would speed. Pursuit would be delayed for a few precious moments, for the Japanese would have to turn the other car around. Those few moments would determine the margin of success or failure. But there were the papers. At all cost they must be secured. The plan that flashed into Orme's mind was to draw the Japanese from the spot and then, jumping from the car, let the girl lead the pursuers on while he returned. Just as he was about to rush for the car he heard a sound among the trees. He wheeled and saw the dim outline of one of his enemies coming toward him. In his excitement he had forgotten that just as they could be seen by him when they were between him and the road, so he could now be seen by them. Undoubtedly he was outlined, as they had been, against the background of the light. The Japanese was only a few feet away. Orme threw the stone; by good luck it struck the man in the stomach, and he dropped to the ground and rolled in silent agony. But at the same moment Orme was seized from behind, and held in a grip he could not break. Indeed, when he tried to break it, there was a sudden, killing strain on his spine. Then Arima's voice said, close to his ear: "Where the papers?" The papers! Japanese character thus brought its fresh surprise to Orme. Even after this hard fight, when three of his friends lay groaning on the ground--when he had in his power the man who had injured them, who had temporarily bested himself--Arima's chief thought was still of the papers! He seemed to have none of the semi-barbarian vengefulness that might have been expected. He merely wished the papers--wished them the more desperately with every passing moment. The lives of his companions counted for nothing besides the papers! "Where?" repeated Arima. "I haven't them," said Orme. "You ought to know that by this time." The answer was a torturing pressure on Orme's spine. "You tell," hissed Arima.