"Yes," almost shouted the other, "and you will soon discover that it is something more than a demonstration."
The interpreter drew Jimmie aside and whispered in his ear. Then the boy turned to Ned.
"This boy says he saw a signal given from a window as soon as this bunch was taken," he said. "Then crowds began forming. Say, but we'd better be gettin' out!"
"Save yourselves the exertion," the prisoner said. "They will find you, wherever you go!"
"Possibly," Ned said.
Then he walked to the window and again looked out on the mob. The street was packed. Faces showing rage and desperate bravery were uplifted. Fists were shaken at the window where he stood. In a moment a stone came hurtling against the wall of the house.
Here and there, on the outskirts of the crowd, policemen in the funny uniforms the police of Peking wear, were seen trying vainly to force their way to the door of the hotel. The main entrance seemed to be guarded, for the mob did not succeed in forcing its way in.
Presently, however, Ned saw long ladders being carried forward on the shoulders of the rioters. Then they were dropped against the wall and men with bloody faces—bloody from the acts of their own fellows—fought to be first to climb.
"In three minutes," the prisoner said, "you will be torn limb from limb if I am not released."
"Your friends certainly do insist on something of the kind," Ned replied.