The fugitive was not in the best of trim for a sustained effort, and he tired rapidly, swaying from side to side as he ran. Near the outermost boundary of the ambassador’s grounds, O’Shea was able to overtake and trip him. Maguire fell headlong, ploughing up the turf, and was so dazed and breathless that O’Shea was kneeling upon him and shoving a revolver in his face before he could pull himself together. Then Johnny Kent came up, and between them they subdued the man’s struggles to renew his flight.
He made no effort to harm either of them. His befogged mind seemed to recognize them as his friends and protectors. The one impelling purpose was to escape from the Chinese. These latter gentlemen now came hurrying over the lawn to offer aid, evidently surmising that a madman had broken away from his keepers and possibly had sought the place to harm His Excellency. Poor Maguire groaned pitifully and renewed his exertions to release himself, but the weight of two uncommonly strong men pinioned him to the sod. At a word from the ambassador several of his retinue hastened to sit upon the captive’s arms and legs. A dapper young secretary acted as spokesman and inquired in precise, cultivated English:
“May I trouble you to inform His Excellency why you make all this commotion on his premises? It is an insane person, or perhaps a burglar, that you have in your custody?”
“It is an American seafarin’ man and he is a friend of ours,” gravely answered Captain O’Shea, still keeping a firm grip on the prostrate Maguire. “He has behaved himself very well till now, but he is impolite enough to dislike the Chinese.”
“He is not correct in the intellect? Then why have you brought him here?” asked the secretary.
“To show him to His Excellency,” quoth O’Shea. “’Tis information we seek, and the man himself is the document in the case.”
“He turned obstreperous most unexpected and sudden,” anxiously put in Johnny Kent, “and now it’s blamed unhandy to show him to you. I’m kind of stumped. What about it, Cap’n Mike?”
The secretary might have looked puzzled had he belonged to any other race, but his face remained polite and inscrutable as he smoothly protested:
“Your explanation is not clear. I advise you to remove all yourselves from the premises of His Excellency. He has no interest in you.”
O’Shea was oblivious of the absurd tableau in which he played the leading rôle. The red-haired sailor was still stretched upon the grass, and his brace of stanch friends held him at anchor. He was quieter and the tempest of passion had passed. The Chinese servants who had been roosting on the outlying parts of his frame withdrew from the scene of war and rejoined their comrades. As soon as they were beyond the range of his vision, Maguire subsided and seemed as docile as of yore.