“That would have done the business,” Frank observed, and Jimmie made a wry face.  “If this little nuisance hadn’t seen the fuse burning, we might have been killed.”

“Aw, go on!” Jimmie said.  “The fuse went out, didn’t it?  Gave us a good scare, anyway.  I’m six inches shorter than I was before I saw the blaze creepin’ along like a bloomin’ snake!”

“How did it affect your appetite?” asked Frank.

“If you mention anythin’ to eat,” Jimmie answered, “I’ll have a fit.  I don’t know how people live in China, but I’ve been starved ever since I struck the country.”

Flashlight in hand, Ned now devoted his whole attention to the floor of the cellar.  There were marks of shoes here and there, and half-burned matches.

“It looks as if whoever did this job did it in a hurry,” Ned said.  “If the fuse had been set right it would have done its work.  Do you see why it went out?”

“Well, there’s a break in it, and the break is over a damp spot on the floor.  The powder stuffed line burned to the break and there the flame went out.  It burned slowly, anyway, which probably accounts for our being alive at this time.”

Ned took a rule from his pocket and measured the shoe tracks on the floor.  There were numerous tracks, but one was very distinct.  This had been made by the man who rolled the half-barrel of powder to the place where it had been found.

The barrel had come upon a slight obstruction, and the man had evidently lifted and pulled at it until his shoe, by reason of the extra weight put upon it, had sunk deep into the light soil.

“That wasn’t any Chink shoe,” Jimmie said.

“No, it was a shoe made in America,” Ned said.  “It is comparatively a new shoe, too.  I am wondering now why the American, or Englishman, or Frenchman, whatever he is, didn’t hire some of the Chinks to do this work of laying the explosion.”

“They’re afraid,” Jack volunteered.

There was a litter of half-burned matches near the barrel and Ned bent over and gathered them up.  As he did so something bright lying on the ground, caught his eye.  It was a gold rivet, or wire, not more than an inch long and about as thick as a knitting needle.

“What is it?” asked Frank.

“I should say,” replied Ned, “that the fellow lost the cover to his match box here.  This looks like the rivet which served for a hinge.  The cover itself may be here.”

But a close search did not reveal the cover, nor anything else of moment, in fact, and the boys soon left the cellar.  Frank laughed as Ned placed the gold wire in his pocketbook.

“You are making quite a collection,” he said.

“Yes,” Jack added, “he has a state department seal, bits of broken sealing wax, and now a piece of a broken match safe.  He’ll set a trap with them directly!”

“The trap is already set!” Ned replied.

The long delay at the house made high speed necessary during the remainder of the run to Peking.  The machines sparked and roared through that ancient land, bringing sleepy-eyed natives to doors and windows, and setting villages into whirls of excitement.