“Oh, yes, easy, but how did you do it?”

“Frank, Jack and Jimmie helped,” added Ned.  “Jack was at a window over the way.  He told me by signals just how many men were to take part in the attack on me.

“Frank, in the next room to mine, told me when the time came to be on guard.  I really do not wake easily, and he rigged a cord through the wall so I could rest comfortably until the time for action came.

“Then when all was ready, he told me by means of colored light that all the six were in the corridor, and that the officers I had engaged during the afternoon were on hand.”

“And you went to sleep with all this on your mind and slept up to within a quarter of an hour of the time set for action?” asked the Captain in wonder.

“Why, certainly,” was the reply.  “You see, we have been having some exciting nights, and I needed rest.  The other boys slept a good deal this afternoon, so I left them to wake me at night.  Nothing odd about that, is there?”

“Nothing save the nerve of it.”

Two high officers now made their appearance in the room and beckoned to the prisoners.  All arose save the man from whom the disguise had been stripped.  He remained in the chair into which he had dropped, seemingly in a stupor.

“Come,” said the officer.

The man arose, desperation in his eyes, and moved toward the door.  A few days before that miserable night he had been one of the leaders in the statecraft of the world.  Now he was being marched to a prison like any ordinary criminal.

The speaker was interrupted by a quick movement on the part of the prisoner, the man he had addressed as Count.  There was no one between he desperate man and the still open window.  Ned was at the door, Captain Martin was out in the corridor, and Frank, Jack and Jimmie were talking together in a corner.

Handcuffed as he was, the Count leaped to the window and shot down to the hard pavement below.  There was a shrill cry as his body hurtled through the air, then a crash.

Below passersby drew away from what lay in a bloody heap on the pavement.  A little crowd gathered, at a distance, but none knew that the body of one of the most distinguished statesmen in the world lay there.

“It is finished!” Ned said, with a sigh.  “The whole story of the conspiracy will never be told.  It is the story of a treacherous government and a treacherous statesman.

“The documents I have will fully prove that the United States had no hand in the gold shipment, and that is all that we care for.  The old world may take care of its own political messes.”

“It is a mess indeed,” Captain Martin, said.  “In less than a year China will be red with blood, and the streets of Peking will witness the retreat of the royal family.”

How true this prophecy was the readers of the daily newspapers now know.

“Well,” Jack said, with a yawn, as the boys and the Captain were left alone in the room together, “I presume it is us for little old New York to-morrow.  How do you like this motorcycle-flying-squadron business, boys,” he added.  “We seem to have flown ahead of the flying squadron.”