A BOX OF MATCHES.
The change from the bright sunlight without to the dim and dusty
interior of the store was, at first, almost blinding to Herc. Before
entering he had taken the precaution to pull the front of his soft hat
down over his eyes, for, as will be recalled, he was wearing civilian
clothing. This did not help to make things clearer to his vision in the
gloom.
His first impression was of a large apartment, bare of floor and wall,
with a set of dusty show cases placed at one side behind a rickety
counter. It did not look like a store where much business of the kind
it ostensibly catered to was transacted.
All this confirmed Herc's growing suspicions that the place was
conducted as a blind. That it was nothing more than a haunt for
Japanese spies and those allied with them in their schemes against
Uncle Sam.
A soft voice, a voice with a purring inflection as silky as that of a
cream-fed cat, broke on his ears.
"What will the gentleman please to 'ave?"
Herc saw that a small, spectacled Japanese had glided rather than
stepped in behind the counter, and now stood regarding the new customer
with a face that might as well have been a mask for all the expression
it conveyed.
It is a curious fact, but Herc, who up to that moment had acted the
part of a bold investigator, suddenly found himself embarrassed. He
struggled to find an answer to the simple question that had been put to
him. This Jap behind the counter regarded him with growing suspicion.
"You come in for something--a cigar, maybe?" he purred.
"Yes--oh, yes,--give me--give me a box of matches," blurted out Herc
desperately.
"A box of matches? Veree well."
The Jap turned deftly to the show cases behind him, and inserting a
long fingered hand in a drawer, drew out the required article. Herc
fumbled in his pocket for the change necessary, but in so doing he drew
out a navy button, cut from his first uniform, with the small silver.
As he extended a nickel across the counter, with no very clear idea as
to what he was to do next, he had the misfortune, for so he presently
perceived it to be, to drop this pocket piece.
It fell with a jingling sound and before he could pick it up, the Jap
was out from behind the counter and had grasped and was extending it to
him.
"A navee button," said he suavely. "The honorable gentleman is in the
service of the so estimable Uncle Sam?"
There was one thing that Herc could not do, at no matter what cost,
and that was to lie. Yet he had important reasons for not wishing his
service to become known to the Jap. So he compromised.
"Yes, it's a navy button," he said pocketing it.
"Ah; it is a fine service," said the Jap, with a swift appraising look
at Herc, and at the red hair that showed under his pulled-down hat. "I
often deplore that I am Japanese and so cannot to enter it."
"Yet there are Japs in the navy," said Herc, and then with one of those
incautious bursts which Ned so often deprecated, he rushed on, "one
came in here just now,--Saki, do you know him?"
From behind the spectacles a swift look of comprehension flashed into
the Jap's eyes, and then died out again like a suddenly extinguished
fire.
"Saki? I no know heem," he said.
"Humph, I _am_ on the right trail," exclaimed Herc to himself. "This
fellow knows all about Ned. I'm afraid, also, that he is suspicious of
me, but that can't be helped now."
"If you will wait one minute, I will bring you change," came the silky
voice of the Jap. "Matches are one penny, you give me one nickel."
"All right, get the change. I'll wait for you," said Herc, trying
to mask his anxiety to penetrate the secrets of this place under an
appearance of indifference.
The Jap, with one swift backward glance at Herc, glided off and up the
same stairway that Herc had seen Saki and Kenworth ascend. So he was
going to join them and doubtless tell them of his suspicions. Herc was
in a quandary.
If he left the place to give the alarm to the authorities, by the time
he came back the birds might have flown and with them all clew to Ned.
On the other hand, he could not, single-handed, face the whole nest of
them.
But the next instant came another thought. After all, the place was
not on the outposts of civilization. It was policed just as any other
well-ordered district. Not a block away were gay summer cafés and
promenaders. What harm could come to him here?
It was while his mind was busied with these reflections that Herc's eye
fell on the door at the end of the store, already mentioned.
Where did it lead to? Perhaps to Ned's prison place. Herc glanced
about him. The store was empty. Outside someone passed along whistling
gaily. After all, he had nothing to fear and all to gain, if he could
ascertain something concerning Ned's fate.
With half a dozen swift strides, Herc was across the store and at the
rear door.
He fumbled with the latch an instant and then the portal swung open.
Beyond was a dark passage. This rather surprised Herc, who had surmised
that the door gave on to a back yard or another street, and who had
thought that in case of emergency it might be utilized as a means of
escape.
It was at this moment that a murmur of voices reached his ears. Several
persons were seemingly descending the stairway up which the spectacled
Jap had passed to procure change.
Herc was about to dart for the front door when he heard a sudden sharp
clicking sound.
As if by intuition he guessed what it meant. By some mechanical means a
bolt had been shot and he was trapped. He sped back again to the rear
door. Darting through it, he dashed into the dark passage beyond. Then
he suddenly checked himself. Why not secure that rear door from the
inside?
But a second's fumbling in the dark showed him that there was no means
of doing this.
The voices grew louder. They swelled to an angry clamor. Herc hastily
slammed the door and plunged forward into the blackness. As he ran, he
heard the trample of feet behind him and knew that the hunt was up and
that he was the quarry.