The tension was broken by Poritol. The little man's dismay suddenly gave way to an eager and voluble excitement, and he rushed across the room, exclaiming: "Oh, my dear miss----" "No names," commanded Alcatrante harshly, turning on his subordinate. "My dear young lady," continued Poritol breathlessly, "I am the victim of your misunderstanding. You will permit me to explain." She answered with an even, cutting edge in her voice: "You cannot explain, Mr. Poritol." "But----" he began, blind to her meaning. "I do not care to hear you," she said; and Poritol slunk back to his former position. From his face it was clear that he had no desire except to get away. Meantime Alcatrante aroused himself. "My friend here"--he indicated the Japanese--"and myself are here on business which concerns our two nations. Your appearance, I presume, is due to a desire to engage the professional services of Mr. Arima. Or perhaps you were trying to find the fortune-teller upstairs." He barely repressed his sneer. The girl did not answer. She had remained by the door, and but for the attitudes of the others, Orme would not have known but that she had gone. As it was, he could read in their bearing the disconcerting effects of her continued disdain. The Japanese spoke. "Will you enter, miss, or shall we direct you on your way? Arima will come out and talk with you, if you so wish." Still no answer. To Orme, in his hiding, there was something uncanny in her failure to respond. But he could picture her--Truth, calm in the presence of subterfuge. "Will you not state your desire?" Again the Japanese. He was smiling now, with the false politeness of his race. And then she spoke: "That envelope on the floor was stolen from my father's home. It bears my father's name." Before Alcatrante could stop him, little Poritol, with some vague hope of making amends, had snatched up the torn envelope and taken it to her. He returned to the range of Orme's vision with an air of virtuous importance. "The contents," said the girl--"where are the papers?" Alcatrante and the Japanese looked at each other. It was as if they said, "In view of our failure we might as well make a clean breast of it." But Alcatrante was too cunning to take the initiative in confession. He left that to the Japanese, who spoke unhesitatingly. "The only papers in the envelope were these." He picked up the torn prospectuses from the floor and held them extended in his hand. "Our surprise is as great as yours." "Do you expect me to believe that?" "Whether you believe it or not, my dear young lady, it is true." There was a moment of silence, then the Japanese continued: "We have reason to think that the envelope was for a time last night in the possession of an American, and that he substituted these circulars for whatever the envelope may have held."