It flashed over Orme that he had no idea what those circumstances were. He knew only what little the girl had told him. Yet she had assured him again and again that the papers were of the greatest importance. True, throughout the affair, thus far, with the exception of the blow he had given Maku, the persons concerned had offered no dangerous violence. The mysterious papers might contain information about South American mines--as little Poritol had suggested; they might hold the secrets of an international syndicate. Whatever they were, it was really doubtful whether the necessity of their recovery would justify the possible slaying of another man. Perhaps the girl had unconsciously exaggerated their value. Women who took a hand in business often lost the sense of relative importance. And yet, she had been so sure; she had herself gone to such lengths. Then, too, the South Americans had hired a burglar to break into her father's house, and now this Japanese had abducted her. Yes, it was a serious game. Orme answered Porter. "I give you my word," he said. Porter nodded and tightened his lips. "At the very least, that fellow has tried to abduct this young lady," added Orme. "All right," said Porter. "Let her go." The other boat had drifted about fifty feet away. Orme called out. "Hello, there, Japanese. Will you give up the papers." No answer came. "If you won't," cried Orme, "we are going to ram you." "Oh, no!" exclaimed the girl suddenly. "We mustn't drown him." "We shan't," said Orme. "But we will give him a scare." Then, in a louder voice: "Do you hear?" The only reply was the tapping of metal on metal. The Japanese, it seemed, was still trying to find out what was wrong with his motor. "Well, then," Orme said to Porter, "we'll have to try it. But use low speed, and be ready to veer off at the last minute." "He'll try to fend with the boathook," said Porter. "If he does, I'll get him." "How?" "Lasso." Orme picked up a spare painter that was stored under the seat, and began to tie a slip-noose. The girl now spoke. "I suppose we shall have to do it," she said. "But I wish there were a less dangerous, a less tragic way." Hardly knowing what he did, Orme laid his hand gently on her shoulder. "It will be all right, dear," he whispered. If the word embarrassed her, the darkness covered her confusion. Porter had started the motor, setting it at a low speed, and now he was steering the boat in a circle to gain distance for the charge. "I've lost the other boat," exclaimed Orme, peering into the darkness. "She's off there," said Porter. "You can't see her, but I know the direction." He swung the launch around and headed straight through the night. "Hold on tight," Orme cautioned the girl, and, coiling his lasso, he went to the bow.