CHAPTER VII
A BREAK FOR LIBERTY
The heavy iron door closed behind them with a slight grating sound. Jackturned his head. The door could not be distinguished from the wall.Hangings of thick silken stuffs covered it.
"Black George" continued to smile unpleasantly, the Chinaman to regardthem inscrutably. Neither spoke. The atmosphere was close and heavy, andpungent with strange Oriental odors and scents. The boys waited for Mr.Temple to take the initiative, and he was sizing up the situation.
Obviously they were trapped. And not for money. The presence of "BlackGeorge," whom they had overheard on the train and who had spied on themsince at the Palace Hotel, meant only one thing to Mr. Temple. That was,that the underworld leader suspected them of having learned something ofhis plans.
Why had he brought them here? Again, there could be only one answer. Hewanted to prevent them from informing on him to the authorities. Eitherhe would hold them prisoner, or intimidate them with threats so that,when released, they would fear to betray him.
How much did he know? Was he aware that they already had conferred withInspector Burton? Had he shadowed the boys to the inventor's store? Didhe know or suspect the plan to utilize Inventor Bender's device forlocating the radio station at the smugglers' cove?
Mr. Temple told himself it was not possible that "Black George" knew towhat lengths they had gone already. Otherwise, of what use to him tocapture them? The damage already was done. And, if he did not know thatthey already had laid their information before the authorities and thateven now the move to locate the smugglers' radio was launched, then itbehooved him and the boys not to tell. For, if they told, "Black George"would be forewarned, and Inspector Burton's plans to round up thesmuggling band would be thwarted.
Mr. Temple glanced quickly at the boys. Would they tell? Each in turncaught his eye and gave him a scarcely perceptible nod of reassurance.It gave him something of a shock, for he realized that their activeminds also had been sizing up the situation and, probably, had arrivedat the same conclusions as he. They were letting him know that theycould be counted upon.
Good boys! For a moment, a little mist obscured his eyes. He had beenaccustomed to thinking of them only as youngsters. But this summer wasopening his eyes. They had played men's parts on the Mexican border.They could be counted on in this unfortunate business, too.
All these thoughts, which require some time to record, had passedthrough Mr. Temple's mind with lightning-like rapidity. Not a word hadbeen spoken since their entrance.
"Black George" continued to smile at them evilly, the Chinaman to regardthem with the impassive and inscrutable countenance of his race, theirfalse guide to stand motionless to one side.
"What is the meaning of this outrage?" demanded Mr. Temple angrily.
He determined to adopt the attitude that the ordinary citizen not inpossession of the key to the situation would be likely to adopt undersimilar circumstances. It would not do to let "Black George" see theysuspected his reason for entrapping them. That would indicate to himthat they already had taken action against him.
"If it is money you want," he said, "say so and be done with it."
"Black George" spoke at last.
"My dear Mr. Temple," he said, "perhaps we may get some of your money,too, before we finish with you. But that isn't our first object."
Turning to their attendant he commanded:
"Bring some chairs and then leave us."
Silently but swiftly, the man brought lacquered stools without backsupports, placed one behind each of the four, then lifted the hangingsand disappeared.
"Sit down," said "Black George" in a suave voice, "and let us talkthings over."
They complied.
"I hope," said "Black George," "that my men did not handle you roughly.They had instructions not to, and if they disobeyed they shall bepunished."
"Come, come," said Mr. Temple, "drop this note of hospitality and cometo the point. We are prisoners, we have been foully entrapped. What isyour object?"
Dropping something of his suavity and letting more of his true charactershow, "Black George" leaned forward.
"I think you know, Mr. Temple," He said, "my reason for bringing youhere."
"What do you mean?"
Mr. Temple was determined to maintain an attitude of outraged innocence.
"I mean," said the other, his voice growing more harsh, "that you havebeen meddling in matters that did not concern you."
"Explain."
"Your young men"--with a sweep of the hand that indicated the threechums--"overheard words not intended for their ears on the Flyer from theEast. They sat on the observation platform while I was in conversationwith a companion."
"Well?"
"No, it's far from well," said the other menacingly. "You calledInspector Burton to your apartment at the Palace."
He paused and looked fixedly at Mr. Temple.
"Now," he resumed, "I want to know just how much of my conversationthese boys overheard, and just what they told Inspector Burton."
Further pretence of innocence was useless.
"And if we refuse to tell?" queried Mr. Temple.
"Black George" grinned evilly. He looked long at Mr. Temple and the boysin turn. Then he addressed the silent old Chinaman.
"Would your men like to play with them?" he asked.
"Um."
"Would they like to torture those young boys?"
"Um."
"Would they like to apply the water cure and the red-hot needles?"
"Um."
"And pull out fingernails?"
"Um."
The old Chinaman never changed expression.
In spite of their courageous spirits, the boys shivered. Mr. Templethought only of the boys, not of himself. Would these scoundrels reallytorture them? It was unbelievable. Yet if they should----
"Look here," he said gruffly, "quit this nonsense. This is the twentiethcentury, and such things are not done. We are not children to befrightened by such talk."
"Ah," said "Black George" smoothly, "but this is San Francisco'sChinatown. Don't forget that. You probably thought it was not possibleto trap you, either. But you notice it was done. Your presence hereought to be sufficient indication to you that torture is notimpossible."
"You, scoundrel," blazed Mr. Temple, "you'll pay for this. Others knowwhere I have gone. My original guide from the restaurant is waiting forme, and----"
"One of my men," said "Black George" succinctly. "And your chauffeur,too."
"Well and good, but the head waiter at the restaurant has my name and----"
"My man, too," said "Black George." He rose suddenly, walked close toMr. Temple, and leaned over and glared into his face.
"Furthermore," he added, "supposing you get out of this scrape, don'ttry to make trouble for them. My agents don't know all I do, but Iprotect the men useful to me. Understand?"
As Mr. Temple kept silence, controlling his features, but in realitysore at heart, "Black George" started to move backward slowly.
Suddenly big Bob, who all the time had been quietly working his handsfree from the hastily tied bonds, leaped upon him. Bob's hands wentaround the other's throat, throttling him and preventing him from cryingout.
At the same moment, Frank and Jack, who also had been working at theirbonds and with equal success, leaped for the old Chinaman. The lattermoved with surprising swiftness for one of his age. Springing from thechair, he waved a long dagger which mysteriously appeared in histalon-like hand and began to shout a shrill jabber of Chinese words.
Jack leaped in low, arms extended, making a flying tackle as he so oftenhad done on the football field at Harrington Hall Military Academy. Theold Chinaman started to move backward, waving his dagger.
Frank swung the lacquered stool upon which he had been seated aloft andsent it hurtling through the air. His aim was deadly. The heavy stoolcaught the Chinaman square on the side of the head, just as Jack pinnedhim around the knees.
He went down like a log, his dagger clattering to the floor.