"Very often, it does," replied Michael Splendor cautiously. "But I'm afraid the Scorpion is more angry than desperate at this moment, for all the damage we have done him. 'Tis rather because of that code letter, and the opening it gives us, that I'm so hopeful of success. As you recall, it tells us there is to be a meeting of Scorpia members in San Francisco, with Cho-San himself in charge!"
"And who," asked Mercedes Colby, as Splendor paused, "is this person you call Cho-San?"
Once more a look of gloomy absorption had spread across the crippled man's features. His eyes, gazing outboard upon the sunlit Caribbean, had the look of a sleepwalker's.
"Cho-San," he murmured, "is a chosen member of the inner circle of Scorpia. It was he and his evil master, the Scorpion, who made me the cripple I am today. 'Twas their devilish torture, in the chamber of horrors they call the Dragon Room...."
A shudder gripped the big, helpless body of Michael Splendor, cutting off his strange speech. When it had passed, he sighed and blinked rapidly, like a man awaking from a nightmare.
"What was I speaking about? Ah, yes, I remember!" he said in a stronger voice. "Cho-San is the Scorpion agent in charge of all war-provoking operations from San Francisco to Singapore. Any meeting which he calls among Scorpia's members is of the utmost importance. It means a fresh attempt to stir up war among civilized nations, so that, from the wreckage of human lives and fortunes, the Scorpion may pick more bloodstained wealth and power. The Naval Intelligence knows all that, but we need legal evidence before we can trap the archcriminal."
"I see what you mean now, sir!" put in Red excitedly. "You're hoping that Don Winslow may be able to horn in on that secret meeting in some way. If he could do that, he'd get the evidence you need!"
At Splendor's nod of assent, Mercedes Colby caught her breath sharply.
"But wouldn't such an attempt be horribly dangerous?" she protested. "Just supposing they caught Don eavesdropping, or present in disguise--what chance would he have of getting out alive?"
"Very little, I am afraid," replied the man in the wheel chair. "But remember, my dear, the United States Navy is a fighting service, where men and officers expect to risk their lives in the cause of peace. Look! Here comes Captain Riggs, and he seems to be in a hurry. Perhaps he has news...."