Handcuffed as he was, the Count leaped to the window and shot down to the hard pavement below. There was a shrill cry as his body hurtled through the air, then a crash.
Below passersby drew away from what lay in a bloody heap on the pavement. A little crowd gathered, at a distance, but none knew that the body of one of the most distinguished statesmen in the world lay there.
"It is finished!" Ned said, with a sigh. "The whole story of the conspiracy will never be told. It is the story of a treacherous government and a treacherous statesman.
"The documents I have will fully prove that the United States had no hand in the gold shipment, and that is all that we care for. The old world may take care of its own political messes."
"It is a mess indeed," Captain Martin, said. "In less than a year China will be red with blood, and the streets of Peking will witness the retreat of the royal family."
How true this prophecy was the readers of the daily newspapers now know.
"Well," Jack said, with a yawn, as the boys and the Captain were left alone in the room together, "I presume it is us for little old New York to-morrow. How do you like this motorcycle-flying-squadron business, boys," he added. "We seem to have flown ahead of the flying squadron."
"Then we ought to fly back and look after the ones who were wounded on the road," Frank said. "Suppose we all go back on our machines, and really see something of the country?"
This was agreed to, and the party separated for the night. In the morning Ned paid his respects to the American ambassador, who greeted him courteously, but wanted to know all about the events of the trip from the coast.
"You have gotten Uncle Sam out of a bad mess," the ambassador said, when Ned had finished his narration, "and you will find that you will be well rewarded when you return to Washington."