see—where did I put the thing? Ah, yes—here it is. So small and thin it’s hard to find.”
I laid it in his hand, and unobtrusively opened my holster flap. I flattered myself that I was ready for anything; but at that, I was not prepared for what happened.
CHAPTER V
John Li’s Legacy
“You know what this is, don’t you?” asked Rosoff.
“Certainly,” I said promptly. “It’s part of a curio I picked up in Cheng-tu the other day—a rather odd ink-slab holder made of carved stone, with copper mounts. This was one of the mounts. I have carried it around waiting to get it soldered in place but the confounded thing has slipped my mind.”
Baron Rosoff regarded me admiringly.
“I congratulate you upon your curio,” he said dryly. I had an unhappy conviction that my lie was rotten. “Probably you know the meaning of these ideographs?”
“Sure thing,” and I tried to carry it off. “It reads t’ou stone. That’s a peculiar kind of stone found only near Cheng-tu.”
To my surprise, Rosoff went into a hearty burst of laughter, genuinely amused.
“Breck,” he said, chuckling, “you’re positively a genius! Upon my word, old chap, you know how to do the thing right, and no mistake! If I hadn’t had a glimpse of that thing when you dropped it, I would never have suspected the truth.”
“The devil you say!” I stared at him. “Well? What are you driving at?”
He sobered, gave me one searching look, and lowered his voice.
“I’ll tell you. The Japanese pronunciation of the name is chuseki. What it actually means is ‘brass stone’—in other words, zinc. Shall I translate any further?”
“You’ll have to, I guess,” was my cool response. This, for some reason, seemed to please him immensely.
“Very well. Zinc is the alloy used to make brass. Without that alloy, brass could not be. And brass is today one of the most useful and beautiful of metals. I trust you follow my translation? Having entered into brass, zinc remains unseen, undiscovered, but ever potent. Now, if you wish to bring the matter into politics, and in place of brass use the word China, and in place of zinc use the word Nippon—”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. “The devil you say!”
He chuckled again. “I hope that I have convinced you fully of my identity? I might add, by the way, that these disks were one of my contributions to the cause. The little parable is very appealing to the Japanese mind, you understand. Besides, it is so very innocent! Not one person in a hundred, even in China, knows what t’ou stone really is; and if everybody knew, what harm would be done? None whatever. Only those who have had the translation carefully given to them will understand that there is any ulterior meaning.”
“An admirable idea,” I responded. “I congratulate you with all my heart!”
Heaven knows I meant the words! This was the most valuable thing I had yet picked up. Of course, John Li had picked it up first. Somehow, somewhere, that wonderful man had stumbled on the fact that Rosoff’s spy system used these copper disks as identification tags; he had secured one of the tags, and was bringing it in with him. Probably he had known nothing of the “translation,” or he would have sprung it on Rosoff and saved himself.
It was a soundly practical idea—up to a certain point. Some system of identification was needed, especially since Rosoff was not himself a Jap, and he had devised something which would never be suspected by the enemy; or if suspected, would not be deciphered. John Li had of course suspected, but he had evidently not deciphered. The danger-point of such a system came when one of the tags got into the hands of the wrong party: the present situation.
Rosoff slipped up there, yet his reasoning was good. I had lied most absurdly about the thing—why? To conceal its real nature. He reasoned that if I knew his connection with Peking I would not have lied about it. Consequently I was one of his friends. He must have argued this out with Wan Shin after leaving us, and the two gentlemen must have been pretty well staggered by their conclusions. Rosoff had come to test me out. My lie, and the way I made him explain the tag, impressed him with my caution.
All this went through my head in a flash.
“Have I satisfied you of my knowledge?” he asked quietly.
“No,” I said, taking up the cards he had given me and playing them. “So far as I know, you’re a Russian savant, a friend of Groot.”
He nodded, and stretched out his powerful left hand. Pulling up his cuff, he held his wrist under my eyes. Sewed to the leather strap of his watch was another disk, identical with mine.
“That’s more like it,” I observed, settling back on the bench. “Well?”
He dropped his cigarette and set his foot upon it.
“I have been placed in charge of all operations in this province,” he said. “How is it, Captain Breck, that I knew nothing of your presence, and that you had not reported to me?”
“Don’t ask me,” I retorted. “Ask the big boss! I was working in Shanghai, when without warning I was ordered to Cheng-tu on aviation construction work. I had only time to send a brief message stating my abrupt departure, and received no answer. So I’ve been marking time and awaiting instructions. None have come.”
“Hm! Your message got lost,” he reflected. “We were astonished to find you in the service. We have heard of you; Wan Shih tells me that you are a prominent officer under the Shanghai government, and high in their confidence. That is an excellent thing for us, eh? May I inquire who inducted you into the service?”
“Schmidts, in San Francisco,” I returned promptly, “Later, at Shanghai, I received the copper tag and further details. The liaison work is superb, if I may comment upon it.”
“It is very good,” he admitted, and rose. “Well, I am glad we have had this little heart to heart chat, Captain Breck. It was most fortunate. For the present, sir—good-night.”
That blasted my hopes. I had expected to worm some details out of him regarding his immediate enterprise, but obviously there was nothing doing along that line. Questioning would be a perilous business, and might endanger everything.
So I crawled back into my own room, and crept to rest. I had good cause to be content with what had taken place. From start to finish, luck had favored me amazingly. But would the luck hold?
“It won’t, Sam, it won’t!” I warned myself. “Luck has a habit of shoving some good cards into a man’s fist, then standing back and watching how he plays ’em. Now I have the cards—watch out! Rosey is apt to draw a pat hand at any minute and when the pot is opened, there’ll be fireworks.”
That was essentially correct, and if I had possessed any amount of horse-sense I would have known just where to look for the expected trouble.
When I wakened, the sun was up and day had come—bright in the east, stormy and cloud-heavy in the west. I woke in the mood to reflect that this foreshadowed bad luck. Moreover, I had acquired altogether too much and too greatly important knowledge to keep it deposited in
