Triple Spies

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Triple Spies

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Title: Triple Spies
Author: Roy J. Snell
Release Date: October 27, 2004 [EBook #13880]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRIPLE
SPIES ***

Produced by Steven desJardins and PG Distributed Proofreaders.

Mystery Stories for Boys Triple Spies
By ROY J. SNELL

The Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago 1920
[Illustration: Roy J. Snell, and his sledge-team of Alaskan Huskies.]
CONTENTS
I THE DEN OF DISGUISES II THE MYSTERIOUS RUSSIAN III
TREACHERY OUT OF THE NIGHT IV A NARROW ESCAPE V
"FRIEND? ENEMY?" VI "NOW I SHALL KILL YOU" VII SAVED
FROM THE MOB VIII WHEN AN ESKIMO BECOMES A JAP IX
JOHNNY'S FREE-FOR-ALL X THE JAP GIRL IN PERIL XI A
FACE IN THE NIGHT XII "GET THAT MAN" XIII BACK TO OLD
CHICAGO XIV THE MYSTERY OF THE CHICAGO RIVER XV
THE CAT CRY OF THE UNDERWORLD XVI CIO-CIO-SAN
BETRAYED XVII A THREE-CORNERED BATTLE XVIII
HANADA'S SECRET XIX "I SEEN IT--A SUBMARINE!" XX AT
THE BOTTOM OF THE RIVER XXI THE OWNER OF THE
DIAMONDS

TRIPLE SPIES
CHAPTER I
THE DEN OF DISGUISES
As Johnny Thompson stood in the dark doorway of the gray stone
court-yard he shivered. He was not cold, though this was
Siberia--Vladivostok--and a late winter night. But he was excited.
Before him, slipping, sliding, rolling over and over on the hard packed
snow of the narrow street, two men were gripped in a life and death
struggle. They had been struggling thus for five minutes, each striving
for the upper hand. The clock in the Greek Catholic church across the
way told Johnny how long they had fought.
He had been an accidental and entirely disinterested witness. He knew
neither of the men; he had merely happened along just when the row

began, and had lingered in the shadows to see it through. Twelve, yes,
even six months before, he would have mixed in at once; that had
always been his way in the States. Not that he was a quarrelsome
fellow; on the contrary he was fond of peace, was Johnny, in spite of
the fact that he carried on his person various medals for rather
more-than-good feather-weight fighting. He loved peace so much that
he was willing to lick almost anyone in order to make them stop
fighting. That was why he had joined the American army, and allowed
himself to be made part of the Expeditionary force that went to the
Pacific coast side of Siberia.
But twelve months in Siberia had taught him many things. He had
learned that he could not get these Russians to stop quarreling by
merely whipping them. Therefore, since these men were both Russians,
he had let them fight.
The tall, slender man had started it. He had rushed at the short, square
shouldered one from the dark. The square shouldered one had flashed a
knife. This had been instantly knocked from his grasp. By some chance,
the knife had dropped only an arm's length from the doorway into
which Johnny had dodged. Johnny now held the knife discreetly behind
his back.
Yes, Johnny trembled. There was a reason for that. The tall, slender
man had gained the upper hand. He was stretched across the prone form
of his antagonist, his slim, horny hands even now gliding toward the
other's throat. And, right there, Johnny had decided to draw the line. He
was not going to allow himself to witness the strangling of a man. That
wasn't his idea of fighting. He would end the fight, even at the expense
of being mussed up a bit himself, or having certain of his cherished
plans interfered with by being dragged before a "Provo" as witness or
participant.
He was counting in a half-audible whisper, "Forty-one, forty-two,
forty-three." It was a way he had when something big was about to
happen. The hand of the slender man was at the second button on the
other's rough coat when Johnny reached fifty. At sixty it had come to
the top button. At sixty-five his long finger-tips were doubling in for

the fatal, vice-like grip. Noiselessly, Johnny laid the knife on a cross
bar of the door. Knives were too deadly. Johnny's "wallop" was quite
enough; more than enough, as the slender one might learn to his
sorrow.
But before Johnny could move a convulsion shot through the prostrate
fighter. He was again