“How did he get his supplies, then, into the house?” “By another underground passage, up that little gully you saw his men disappearing into. We stopped that hole the night we made the raid. It was cleverly concealed with growing bushes and brush. But they aren’t yet through exploring the place, and we expect to find many other ‘earths’ before we get through. Acting as an agent for the Bolshevik Government gave him practically unlimited men to work for him, and there was little danger of their talking. These Russians are too good conspirators for that and so are the Chinese he had brought with him. They thought that that house was the headquarters of the future Bolshevik Government in the United States. The Emperor was a wonder at making people believe what he wanted them to believe.” “Funny there were no windows in the place.” The Chief smiled. “That was clever, too,” he answered, “He had had an inner shell put in the house, so that the windows showed from the outside but showed no lights. It gave the house a deserted appearance, which was just what he wanted.” “By the way,” I asked, “what became of that other car that started out with us?” Both the Chief and Moore laughed outright at this. “Well,” said the former, “there’s been a little feeling about that. It seems that they had only gone a block or two when they were overtaken by a motor-cycle cop. He told them that I had sent him with instructions that they were to proceed at once to Coney Island, as the meeting place had been changed. What’s more, they went. They waited awhile, and by the time they suspected that something was wrong and came back, you and I had gone on. We never caught the cop either.” “I never heard what happened to the other fellows outside that night,” said Moore. “Oh, they had a pretty warm time. Those fellows that tried to blow us up on the way down came back and reported their failure, and the Emperor stationed them outside the house to wait for us. But of course he thought there were only the three of us. When our men came in touch with them there was a battle-royal, the end of which we saw from the big hall. It’s a good thing that they drove those fellows in, or our men might have been a much longer time getting in to us.” “What became of Vining?” I asked him presently. “Is he going up for trial soon?” The Chief stared at me and shook his head slowly. “He’s gone up for trial already,” he said gravely. “One of the fool cops out there in —— told him that we had rounded up the gang and that the head of it was dead. And the next morning they found Vining hanging by his own belt from the bars of his window. We had enough evidence to send him to the chair ten times over anyway. He took the easier way.”