"Easy, pal. Easy," said the chauffeur, low-voiced. "What the Big Chief wants with 'em is his own business. We had our orders to pick 'em up an'
we carried 'em out. Climb in and we'll blow."
The other complied, and the car departed.
Meantime, midway of the next block the party had come to a halt. The new guide, a capable man of middle age with a twinkling eye turned to Mr.
Temple.
"Now, sir," he said, "just what would you like to see?"
"Nothing rough," said Mr. Temple hastily, looking at the boys. "Just show us the usual tourist places."
"Oh, Father," protested Bob, aggrievedly. "We want to see the sights."
"The young man wants some excitement," said the guide, slyly. "Well, maybe we can show him a thing or two."
Mr. Temple did not like the man's tone. Nevertheless, he made no comment.
"Lead on," he said shortly.
Flanked by Bob and his father, and followed by Jack and Frank, the guide brought them presently to the mouth of a dark alley. There he paused.
"Up here's the Joss House," he said. "Chinamen's temple, you know.
Follow me single file. It's dark in this here alley, but we'll soon be all right."
Obediently, they fell into line behind him and stumbled along through Stygian darkness, only the dim light from the street over their shoulders. Presently, the close walls on either hand turned sharply to the right, and they emerged into a narrow courtyard. It was so dark their surroundings could only be guessed at.
"Look here, my man," said Mr. Temple, "I went to a Joss House in Chinatown once years ago, and I don't seem to remember this route."
"It's all right," said the guide. "The place is just ahead here through a door. Follow right along."
Mr. Temple took several more steps, the boys after him, then halted again. Once more he started to protest, but at that moment the guide turned and grappled with him while a number of other shadowy forms materialized out of the darkness and closed with the boys.
The boys and Mr. Temple fought valiantly, but numbers were against them.
Moreover, the attackers threw over the head of each a sack that muffled their outcries and prevented the boys and Mr. Temple from directing their blows. Taken altogether by surprise, they were quickly overcome.
Then their hands were tied and they were raised to their feet, and the sacks, which were almost suffocating them, were removed.
A revolver was shoved threateningly into each face.
"Won't do you much good to scream," said a voice in the darkness, "but if you do, you know what you'll get."
There was a grim earnestness about the tone which commanded belief.
"If it's money you want--" gasped Mr. Temple, who was breathing heavily.
"Shut up," said his guard. "Now march."
With two guards to each, the four prisoners were shoved along the broken cobbles of the dim courtyard until a door in a wall was reached. Through this they entered a corridor even blacker than the courtyard behind.
There were no lights. One of the guards, however, threw the rays of a flashlight ahead.
An iron door barred the way. A little wicket was opened as the flashlight played over it, and a slanting almond eye stared out unwinkingly. The man with the flashlight advanced, uttered a word in a low voice that the boys could not overhear, and then the door was opened.
Down another pitch black corridor, several turns, and the party halted before a second door. The procedure was similar to that gone through with at the first door. Again they were admitted.
All this time, shuffling along in a silence broken only by an occasional stumble or muttered curse, on the part of one of the guards, they had been descending. It seemed to the boys as if they had stumbled down so many various flights of steps that they must be in the very bowels of the earth. At last a third door was opened, and Mr. Temple and the boys were shoved ahead accompanied only by the man who had been their guide and betrayer.
They stood in a dimly lighted room of Oriental magnificence.
Two men sat at a table. One was inscrutable. He was an old Chinaman. The other wore a sinister smile. He was the man of the train-"Black George."
CHAPTER VII
A BREAK FOR LIBERTY
The heavy iron door closed behind them with a slight grating sound. Jack turned 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 regard them inscrutably. Neither spoke. The atmosphere was close and heavy, and pungent 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 "Black George," whom they had overheard on the train and who had spied on them since at the Palace Hotel, meant only one thing to Mr. Temple. That was, that the underworld leader suspected them of having learned something of his plans.
Why had he brought them here? Again, there could be only one answer. He wanted to prevent them from informing on him to the authorities. Either he 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 with Inspector Burton? Had he shadowed the boys to the inventor's store? Did he know or suspect the plan to utilize Inventor Bender's device for locating the radio station at the smugglers' cove?
Mr. Temple told himself it was not possible that "Black George" knew to what lengths they had gone already. Otherwise, of what use to him to capture them? The damage already was done. And, if he did not know that they already had laid their information before the authorities and that even now the move to locate the smugglers' radio was launched, then it behooved him and the boys not to tell. For, if they told, "Black George"
would be forewarned, and Inspector Burton's plans to round up the smuggling band would be thwarted.
Mr. Temple glanced quickly at the boys. Would they tell? Each in turn caught his eye and gave him a scarcely perceptible nod of reassurance.
It gave him something of a shock, for he realized that their active minds also had been sizing up the situation and, probably, had arrived at the same conclusions as he. They were letting him know that they could be counted upon.
Good boys! For a moment, a little mist obscured his eyes. He had been accustomed to thinking of them only as youngsters. But this summer was opening 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 passed through Mr. Temple's mind with lightning-like rapidity. Not a word had been spoken since their entrance.
"Black George" continued to smile at them evilly, the Chinaman to regard them with the impassive and inscrutable countenance of his race, their false 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 in possession of the key to the situation would be likely to adopt under similar circumstances. It would not do to let "Black George" see they suspected his reason for entrapping them. That would indicate to him that they already had taken action against him.
"If it is money you want," he said, "say so and be done with it."