"Yes," exulted Dick, "and not at half-mast, either."
CHAPTER XVI
THE FOILING OF THE PLOT
It was noon, and Namoto sat in his library, waiting.
He was alone. All preparations had been made for instant flight. His household treasures, his heirlooms, his followers, with Togi in charge, had been sent to the yacht, that, with steam up, was lying at its moorings. The captain had reported the disposition of the prisoner, and had received his master's commendation. And now, after measureless toil and risk and scheming, Namoto prepared to taste the sweets of victory.
How near that victory was! The ceremonies were to begin at twelve. He saw in imagination the crowded wharves and banks, the shouting throngs, the stately ships, as, decked with flags, they moved slowly up the bay to the entrance of the Canal. As the first one entered the locks there was to be a salvo of artillery from all the vessels of the fleet. And then, his turn would come. A slight pressure on that button, and there would be a crash, a roar that would echo around the world. Japan would hear and rejoice; America would hear and tremble. To the one, it would be the signal of glorious triumph; to the other, the crack of doom.
There it was, now! Through the window came the boom of guns. He waited till the echoes died away.
Then, smiling, he forced the button down, and listened for the thunder of the explosion.
Silence!
Wonderingly, he pressed again.