They had hardly reached the hotel, on their return from the War Office, when a dapper little gentleman stepped up to the Colonel and said a few words in a low tone.
"What!" exclaimed the American. "Impossible. We start for home to-morrow morning. Edith," he added, turning to his young guests, who were just behind with Señor Bellardo, "this man says we are not to leave the hotel till further notice. Special orders from the War Office!"
"Why, what can be the reason? What has happened?"
The Japanese officer shrugged his shoulders and murmured an apology. "A document of great value has been lost," he said. "It is necessary to detain every one who has visited the office during the afternoon. It is mere form. Honourably do not be annoyed—a thousand regrets for your inconvenience!"
Colonel Selborne understood Japanese methods well enough to know there was a hand of iron under the velvet glove. He submitted with what grace he could muster.
"Search our rooms," he said. "It is absurd to suppose——"
"Ah," interrupted the emissary from the War Office eagerly, "we suppose nothing. It is mere form. To-night, to-morrow, next day, you will surely be at liberty to depart. If you are put to extra expense by remaining longer than you had planned the Government will repay all."
At the Colonel's urgent request the rooms were searched, and of course nothing was found. The little man withdrew, walking backward and apologising over and over; but he did not leave the hotel. He sent a message to the Office and informed the Blacks that nothing further could be done until the next day.
It was ten o'clock in the evening when the recollection of Wynnie's half-written note flashed across Edith's mind. She almost flew to her uncle's door and rapped. The good man had not retired; he was too much annoyed and troubled to sleep.
"Uncle, Uncle, I've something important to tell you. It may be a clue!" And she described Wynnie's act of throwing away the piece of paper and its subsequent recovery by the Spaniard.