wrist behind him would turn and he would be throttled into
unconsciousness.

There was nothing to do but be quiet and as complaisant as his captors
wished, and await developments. And the irony of such a
situation--happening in the most crowded and most popular hotel in the
Capital, with hundreds of guests at hand, and scores of servants poised
to obey one's slightest nod--struck him with all the force of its
supreme absurdity. It was but another proof of the proposition that one
is never so alone as in the midst of a throng.

He smiled--somewhat chillily, it must be admitted--and whispered, his
speaking voice being shut off by the garrote.

"The quicker you look, the sooner I shall, I hope, be released from this
rather uncomfortable position."

"Good eye!" said Crenshaw. "You're a reasonable man, Mr. Harleston,
it's a pleasure to do business with you."

"Proceed!" Harleston whispered. "I haven't the letter with me, as you
should know. Do I look so much like a novice? Furthermore, if I am not
mistaken, I told you that I was going direct to the State Department to
deliver the letter for translation so how could I have it now?"

"We're not debating, we're searching," Crenshaw sneered; "though it may
occur to you that a copy is as easy of translation as the original.
However, we will proceed with the inspection--the proof of the caviare
is in the roe of the sturgeon."