It seemed to Ned that the one thing for him to do was to attack the fellow and endeavor to disarm him. The noises of conflict in the outer room grew more distinct, and Ned, observing that the diplomat was glancing restlessly about, as if seeking some means of escape, sprang upon him.
Instead of turning and defending himself, the fellow struggled to release himself from the boy's hold, and to make his way toward a section of the wall on the south. The statement that a rifleman had been stationed somewhere there now came back to the boy's mind, and he knew that there must be a passage behind that wall.
The man with whom Ned was struggling was evidently unarmed, for he fought only with his hands and feet. He tried by all the tricks known to wrestlers to break away from the boy, or to hurl him to the floor, but Ned had skill as well as strength, and all such efforts proved unavailing.
While this silent struggle was going on, the rough door came crashing in and a score of Chinamen, evidently fleeing from an enemy, rushed in and flocked toward that south wall. Ned and his enemy were trampled under foot for a moment, then the room was clear save for a half dozen marines who stood in the doorway, their smoking guns in their hands.
Ned's head whirled from a blow he had received, and there was a numb feeling in one of his arms, but he arose to his feet and glanced around. Jimmie stood with the marines, a grin on his freckled face.
"Gee whiz!" he shouted, "how that man did go!"
"Which man?" demanded Ned. "Why didn't some one follow him?"
"He just went through that wall," Jimmie answered. "When I tried to follow him I bumped me nose! Say, but he went right through that old wall!"
"Where did the Chinks go?" asked Ned.
"Down through the floor!" was the reply. "But, say, did you ever see anythin' like that vanishin' priest? I'll bet a pie he's forty miles away right this minute."