Part 19 (2/2)

Triple Spies Roy J. Snell 37170K 2022-07-22

Hanada sent him another penetrating glance. ”You have guessed that much,” he admitted. ”Well, soon I may be able to tell you all. In the meantime, if you need more money to pay this Jerry--Jerry, what was it you called him?”

”Jerry the Rat.”

”Yes, yes, Jerry the Rat. If you need more money for him, I can get you more, plenty more. But,” the lines of his face grew tense, ”we must find them and soon, or it may be too late. We must act quickly.”

Hanada had not said one word of his affairs of the night before, nor did he now as they were about to part.

Dull and heavy, there came the tread of feet on the bridge.

”The police!” whispered Johnny.

Hanada seemed distinctly nervous.

As the two patrolmen came abreast of them one of them flashed his light.

Hanada cringed into the shadows.

”Well,” said a deep voice, ”here's luck! Youse guys come with us. Youse guys is wanted at the station.”

”What for?” Johnny demanded.

”Youse guys know well enough. Treason, they call it.”

”Treason?” Johnny gave a happy laugh. ”Treason? They'll have hard work to prove that.”

Had one been privileged to see Cio-Cio-San at the moment Johnny Thompson and his friend were arrested, he might easily have imagined that she was back in j.a.pan. The room in which she paced anxiously back and forth was j.a.panese to the final detail. The floor was covered thickly with mattings and the walls, done in a pale blue, were hung everywhere with long scrolls of ancient j.a.panese origin. Here a silver stork stood in a pool of limpid blue; there a cherry orchard blossomed out with all the extravagant beauty of spring, and in the corner a paG.o.da, with sloping, red-tile roof and wide doors, proclaimed the fact that the j.a.panese were a people of art, even down to house building. Silk tapestries of varying tints hung about the room, while in the shadows a small heathen G.o.d smiled a perpetual smile.

But it was none of these things that the girl saw at that moment. This room, fitted up as it had been by rich j.a.panese students, most certainly had brought back fond memories of her own country. But at this instant, her eyes turned often to a screen behind which was a stand, and on that stand was a desk telephone.

Hanada had promised to consult Johnny Thompson regarding the strange proposition of the unknown j.a.panese. He had promised to call her at once; by eight-thirty at the latest. The stranger was to return for his answer at nine. It now lacked but ten minutes of that hour, and no call had come from Hanada. She could not, of course, know that the men on whom she depended for counsel were prisoners of the police. So she paced the floor and waited.

Five minutes to nine and yet no call. Wrinkles came to her forehead, her step grew more impatient.

”If he does not call, what shall I do?” she asked herself.

Then there came the sharp ring of the telephone. She sprang to the instrument, but the call was for another member of the club.

Three minutes in which to decide. She walked thoughtfully across the floor. Should she go? Her money was now almost gone. It was true that a treasure, which to many would seem a vast fortune, had disappeared from her father's house over night. It had been taken by force. And she knew the man who had taken it; had followed him thousands of miles. Now there had come to her a man of her own race, who a.s.sured her that the treasure was not in the possession of the man who had stolen it, but in the possession of an honest man who would willingly surrender it to her, providing only he could be made certain that it was to go directly into her hands. That this might be, he demanded that she meet him at a certain place known to the strange j.a.panese. There she might prove her property. The story did seem plausible--and her need was great. Soon she would be cast out upon the world without a penny. So long as she had money she was welcome at this club; not longer.

There came the purring of a m.u.f.fled bell in the hall. He had come.

Should she go? A mood of reckless desperation seized her.

”I will,” she declared.

The next instant she was tucking a short, gleaming blade beneath her silk middy and then drawing on a long silk coat.

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