Triple Spies | Page 5

which Johnny had
not seen there before. It sent chills racing up and down his spine. It
almost seemed to him that the Chinaman's hand was feeling for his belt,
where his knife was hidden.
For a moment the Russian turned his back to Wo Cheng, and so faced
Johnny. Behind his screen, the "Yank" could observe his actions
without himself being seen.
From an inner pocket the Russian extracted a long, thick envelope.

Unwrapping the cord at the top of this, he shook from it three shining
particles.
"Diamonds!" Johnny's eyes were dazzled with the lustre of the jewels.
The Russian, selecting one, dropped the others back into the envelope.
"Bet he's got a hundred more," was Johnny's mental comment. Then he
noticed a peculiarity of the envelope. There was a red circle in the
lower, left hand corner, as if a seal had been stamped there. He would
remember that envelope should he ever see it again.
But at this instant his attention was drawn to the men again. The
Russian had turned and handed the gem to Wo Cheng. Wo Cheng
stepped to the light and examined it.
"No need cumshaw my," he murmured.
The Russian bowed gravely, and turned toward the door.
It was then that the face of the Chinaman underwent a rapid change.
The look of craftiness, treachery, and greed swept over it again. This
time the yellow man's hand unmistakably reached for the knife.
Then he appeared to remember Johnny, for his hand dropped, and he
half turned with an air of guilt.
The door closed with a little swish. The Russian was gone. With him
went the stifling air of treachery, murder and intrigue, yet it left Johnny
wondering. Why was every man's hand lifted against the sharp-chinned
Russian? Had Wo Cheng been actuated by hate, or by greed? Johnny
could not but wonder if some of Russia's former noblemen did not rest
in shallow graves beneath Wo Cheng's cellar floor. But there was little
time for speculation. In two hours the special train that Johnny wanted
to take would be on its way north.
Springing nimbly from his place of hiding, Johnny recovered his blouse,
and having secured from it certain papers, which were of the utmost

importance to him, he pinned them in a pocket of his shirt. He next
selected a pair of wolf skin trousers, a pair of corduroy trousers, one
pair of deer skin boots and two of seal skin.
"Cumshaw?" he grinned, facing Wo Cheng, as he completed his
selection.
The yellow man shrugged his shoulders, as if to say it made little
difference to him in this case.
Johnny peeled a bill from his roll of United States currency and handed
it to him.
"Wo Cheng," he said slowly, "go north, Jap woman? Go north, that
Russian? Why?"
The Chinaman's face took on a mask-like appearance.
"No can do," he muttered. "Allatime keep mouth shut my."
"Tell me," commanded Johnny, advancing in a threatening manner,
with his hand near the Russian's knife.
"No can do," protested the Chinaman cringing away. "Allatime keep
mouth shut my. No ask my. No tell my. Allatime buy, sell my. No
savvy my."
It was evident that nothing was to be learned here of the intentions of
the two strangers; so, grasping his bundle, Johnny lifted the latch and
found himself out in the silent, deserted alley.
The air was kind to his heated brow. As he took the first few steps his
costume troubled him. He was wearing the parka and the corduroy
trousers. He felt no longer the slight tug of puttees about his ankles. His
trousers flapped against his legs at every step. The hood heated the
back of his neck. The fur trousers and the skin boots were in the bundle
under his arm. His soldier's uniform he had left with the keeper of the
hidden clothes shop. He hardly thought that anyone, save a very

personal acquaintance, would recognize him in his new garb, and there
was little chance of such a meeting at this hour of the night. However,
he gave three American officers, apparently returning from a late party
of some sort, a wide berth, and dodging down a narrow street, made his
way toward the railway yards where he would find the drowsy comforts
of the caboose of the "Reindeer Special."
* * * * *
"American, ain't y'?" A sergeant of the United States army addressed
this question to Johnny.
The latter was curled up half asleep in a corner of the caboose of the
"Reindeer Special" which had been bumping over the rails for some
time.
"Ya-a," he yawned.
"Going north to trade, I s'pose?"
Johnny was tempted not to answer. Still, he was not yet out of the
woods.
"Yep," he replied