As soon as the door was closed the alleged priest threw aside his slate-colored robe, snatched a wig and beard from his head and face, and stood forth a handsome man, dressed in the costume of a modern Englishman or American. At first Ned did not recognize the smiling face which confronted him.
Then there came to his mind the memory of a time in Canton when he had watched a meeting of men he believed to be in conspiracy against his country. This face certainly had been there.
The voice was low, smooth, musical. Ned stood looking at the subtle countenance, but said not a word.
"You are caught at last!" came next.
Still Ned stood silent, saying not a word, only wondering if the time for final action had arrived—if the Captain outside was in such peril as threatened himself.
"Rather a bright boy," sneered the other, "only not bright enough to understand that men of the world are not to be defeated in their long-cherished plans by the kindergarten class. Do you know where your two friends are—the two who accompanied you here?"
"I presume that they are quite capable of taking care of themselves,"
Ned replied.
"They are on the road to a dungeon in Peking."
"From first to last," Ned said, "from my first connection with this case up to this hour, I have come upon only bluffers and liars. You seem to be making good in both lines."
"Not so rude, kid," laughed the other. "You've certainly got nerve to address such words to one who holds your life, and the lives of your friends, in his hand."