“That child!” exclaimed the newcomer.

Jimmie restrained himself with an effort, for he knew that this was no time to engage in a quarrel.  He turned his back to the group and looked out of the window into the court.

There was now no light at the window from which the warning had been given, but there were flickers of uncertain candles at some of the others.  The hooting of the owl had undoubtedly attracted the attention of the occupants of the building.

As Jimmie looked, however, the sash of the window he was watching was pushed up and a tousled head appeared.  Other sashes were pushed up in an instant, and pigtailed heads and slanting, evil eyes were in view.

“I guess they’re keepin’ cases on the kid!” Jimmie thought, as he made an almost imperceptible motion toward Hans.  “It would be pretty poor, I reckon, if I could get up there,” he added, not meaning that it would be “pretty poor” at all, but, on the contrary, a very good move indeed.

While the lad watched the window, from which the tousled head had now disappeared, some of the other windows closed.  The natives were evidently in no mood to lose their sleep because of a foreign-devil noise in the middle of the night.

The little fellow was certain that the head he had for a moment seen was that of Hans, the Philadelphia Boy Scout who had been so strangely encountered during the visit of the submarine to an island off the coast of China.  He knew, too, that the German understood that something unusual and hostile to his friends was going on below.

He did not stop to consider the means by which Hans had reached the city of Tientsin and that particular building.  He accepted it for granted that he was there, and wondered just what steps he, the German, would be apt, or able, to take in the emergency which threatened the failure of the mission to Peking.

Presently the voices of the marine officer, the official who had been summoned by the assistant manager, and Ned reached his ears.  The officer was clearly in an angry mood and Ned was trying his persuasive powers on the newcomer.

“Are you an officer of the telegraph company?” the officer asked, in an angry tone.

“I am not,” was the equally discourteous rejoinder.  “I am a private detective employed, by the manager here.  It is my duty to look after just such cases as this.”

“Well,” Ned said, calmly, “ask any questions you desire and we will answer them frankly.  I came to China at the request of the Washington government, and am to receive instructions here.  The operator tells me that there is a cablegram here for me, but refuses to deliver it on the ground that I may be an impostor.”

“I think he has you sized up right,” grated the detective.

“Then we may as well be going,” Ned said, still coolly.  “There is nothing for us to do now but try to establish our identity before the American consul.”