Dr. Aiken had completely forgotten, now, why the Jap was here. This was another precious piece fitting the jigsaw puzzle he was striving to put together. He cried to Lake and Ramey, "Hear that? In the Kojiki, too! The ancient Japanese Book of Records! That makes four places I've found reference to blue ones.[3] The Hindu folklore tells of them; the Druidic ritual worships blue warriors. I tell you, lads, Angkor is a vital link in the chain of Man's past! We must find a way to read the writing. When we do—"
Then his words died abruptly. A call had risen from across the moat. Soldiers, standing at the edge of the cane-grove, were gesturing, shouting. As he listened, the smiling captain ceased to smile; Dr. Aiken, who apparently understood at least part of the message, glanced suddenly, worriedly, at Ramey. In an undertone he breathed, "Your airplane! They've found it! And—and somehow they know you're one of—Hurry! We've got to get out of here!"
He tugged at Ramey's sleeve. But even as they edged away, the little captain turned, his eyes hard and angry, his friendliness vanished.
"A moment, please! You have lied to me. Halt! or it is necessary to—"
His revolver was already halfway out of its holster. But swiftly as he moved, Lake O'Brien was even quicker. With a sudden twist, Lake wrenched the gun from his hand, shoved a leg behind his knees and shoved violently. The small captain went sprawling and—
"Come on!" cried Lake, "up to the temple."
He cried a needless warning. For even as he shouted the Jap leader's voice screamed a shrill command. Soldiers came running from every section of the court, and the brooding silence of Angkor was shattered with the sharp, explosive crack of a modern rifle.
In that moment, when it seemed impossible the racing four could cover four hundred vulnerable yards, relief came from an unexpected source. From around the corner of the temple charged two uniformed warriors of Nippon. Beyond them lay temporary safety but—how to pass them? Already one was raising rifle to shoulder, his finger tense on the trigger. Then from the building itself snarled the bark of an automatic. The Jap jerked as though sledged with the blow of an invisible ramrod. His jaw dropped suddenly and the gun flew clattering from his hands as he doubled and pitched forward. Then another shot from the same source; another, and yet another. The familiar voice of Red Barrett boomed from the portico.
"Keep coming, keed! We're covering you!"