It was all over in less than, fifteen seconds.  But not before Roke’s beach combing wits could come to the aid of his tortured body.  Doubling himself into a muscular ball, he rolled swiftly under the shadow of a sprawling magnolia sapling, crouching among the vine roots which surround it.  There, unobserved, he lay, hugging the dark ground as scientifically as any Seminole, and moving not an eyelash.

From that point of vantage, he saw the dark-clothed men line up their sullen prisoners and march them off to the road, where, a furlong below, the fire revealed the dim outlines of several motor cars.  Other men, at the direction of the same leader who had commanded the advance, trooped toward the house.  And, as this leader passed near the magnolia, Roke knew him for Gavin Brice.

From the edge of the veranda, Claire and Standish had witnessed the odd drama.  Wordless, stricken dumb with amazement, they gazed upon the fire-illumined scene.  Then, toiling across the grass toward them came the little man who had overcome Rodney Hade.  On his shoulders, as unconcernedly as if he were bearing a light sack, he carried the inert body of his victim.  Straight past the staring brother and sister he went, and around the house to the front steps.

Milo started to follow.  But Claire pointed toward a clump of men who were coming along not far behind the little burden-bearer.  At their head, hurried some one whose figure was silhouetted against the waning tree-glare.  And both the watchers recognized him.

Nearing the veranda, Brice spoke a few words to the men with him.  They scattered, surrounding the house.  Gavin came on alone.  Seeing the man and girl above him, he put his hands up to the rail and vaulted lightly over it, landing on the floor beside them.

“Come!” he said, briefly, leading the way around the porch to the front door.

They followed, reaching the hallway just in time to see the little man deposit his burden on the couch.  And both of them cried-out in astonishment.  For the stripling who had reduced Rodney Hade to numb paralysis was Sato, their own recreant Japanese butler.

At sight of them, he straightened himself up from the couch and bowed.  Then, in flawless English,—­far different from the pigeon-talk he had always used for their benefit,—­he said respectfully, to Gavin: 

“I brought him here, as you said, sir.  He’s coming around, all right.  After the pressure is off the carotid, numbness doesn’t last more than two minutes.”

“Sato!” gasped Claire, unbelieving, while Milo gurgled, wordless.  The erstwhile butler turned back to the slowly recovering Hade.  Brice laughed at their crass astonishment.

“This is one of the best men in the Service,” he explained.  “It was he who took a job under Hade and who got hold of that raised check.  Hade passed him on to you, to spy for him.  He—­”

“But,” blithered Standish, “I saw him tackle Hade, before all the crew.  He was playing with death.  Yet, when you tackled him, this evening, he was scared helpless.”