Orme slipped the envelope back into the drawer and put his eye to the hole in the cover. His position was now more and more critical, for to open the drawer and get the envelope, Arima would have to lift the table cover.
The stranger turned to Arima. “Give us the envelope,” he said.
Arima approached the table. Orme crowded back against the wall as far as he could, knowing that the chances of escaping discovery were strongly against him. But he was saved by the very eagerness of the others. They all crowded about Arima, as he lifted the cover, opened the drawer, and took out the envelope. So close did they stand that Orme was out of their angle of vision. The table-cover fell again, and he was safe. He resumed his position at the peep-hole.
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.