The stranger stepped to the middle of the room, the others gathering around him. With a quick jerk he tore the envelope open, and taking out the papers, ran his eye over them rapidly. He uttered an exclamation. "What is it?" said Alcatrante. The South American's hand was shaking, and perspiration stood out on his forehead. The Japanese snarled. "Tricked! They've fooled us. That honorable burglar of yours got the wrong envelope." Alcatrante snatched the papers. "'Prospectus,'" he read, "'of the Last Dare Mining Company.' But I do not understand." The Japanese glared at him angrily. "If you had kept out of this business," he snapped, "and let Maku attend to it, everything would have been right. Now your burglars have spoiled it." He snatched back the harmless prospectuses and tore them in two, throwing the fragments to the floor and grinding them under his heel. Arima spoke. "Pardon, honorable sir, Maku say the right envelope was taken from the safe. Maku know." "Ha! Then it was you who were tricked--outwitted. That American reached the tree before you last evening and substituted these papers. Go back to Japan, Arima. I don't need you." Arima bowed submissively. As for the stranger, his rage gave way to despair. "What shall I say to the Emperor?" he muttered. "What shall I say to the Emperor?" Then his feelings came again under control; he looked calmly at Alcatrante. "Well," he said, "what would you suggest?" Alcatrante's face was a puzzle. Every shade of doubt, disappointment, anger, suspicion, and shrewd deduction passed over it. He was putting into play that marvelous power of concentration on subtle issues that had enabled him to play so brilliantly the rôle of international under-dog. At last he smiled and spoke. "Find the American," he said. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Arima looked at his master, who nodded indifferently and said: "Yes, see who it is. It can do no harm now." Orme heard the door open. What startled him first was the action of Poritol, who stepped back to the wall, his jaw dropping, his face a picture of embarrassment and fright. Alcatrante and the stranger showed amazement. For a moment they stood thus in silence, and then from the door came a clear voice: "What? You here, Mr. Alcatrante? And the Japanese minister?" Orme almost sprang from his hiding-place. The voice was the voice of the girl! CHAPTER XI THE WAY OUT The sound of the girl's voice brought the men in the room to life. Her words were shaded to a tone of fearless scorn which must have bitten deep, for Alcatrante and the Japanese minister looked like school-boys caught in wrong-doing. The South American gnawed at his lip; the Japanese looked at the floor, and Orme now realized that the manner which had seemed so indicative of a masterful personality was the manner which springs from power--the manner that is built upon the assurance of a tremendous backing.