His eyes seemed riveted at the window above him. Suddenly the
supreme moment for which this dastardly plot had been timed came.
As the torpedo model dropped from the window, he darted forward,
caught it, turned, and in an instant he was gone.

. . . . . . .

Wu Fang himself had returned after setting in motion the forces
which he found necessary to call to aid the foreign agents in
their plots against Kennedy's torpedo.

As Wu approached the door of his den and was about to enter, his
eye fell on our outpost, the blind beggar. Instantly his
suspicions were aroused. He looked the beggar over with a frown,
thought a moment, then turned and instead of entering went up the
street.

He made the circuit of the block and now came to an alley on the
next street that led back of the building in which he had his den.
Still frowning, he gazed about, saw that he was not followed, and
entered a doorway.

Up the stairs he made his way until he came to an empty loft.
Quickly he went over to the blank wall and began feeling
cautiously about as if for a secret spring hidden in the plaster.

"No one in the back room," said Kennedy rejoining me in the den
itself with the prisoner. "He's out, all right."