CHAPTER XII
WAH LEE'S BOSS
The next few days were crowded with incident. The city was filling upwith visitors, to be present at the ceremonies attending the opening ofthe Canal. Many of these were celebrities known all over the world.Soldiers, admirals, diplomats, men of affairs, brushed shoulders withthousands less famous, but quite as interested in the great event so soonto take place. The boys were constantly meeting someone whom they hadknown in the "States"; and, in the renewal of old friendships and themaking of new ones, the time flew by as though on wings.
But, underneath all the hubbub and excitement, Bert was conscious of anuneasy premonition. He tried to analyze it, and, when unsuccessful inthis, attempted to throw it off. Despite all his efforts, however, itpersisted. Call it clairvoyance, call it telepathy, he felt aware ofimpending danger. Some "coming event" was casting "its shadow before."
Again and again the words of Allison recurred to him. Not that hebelieved in them. Although they had stirred him at the time with a senseof vague foreboding, he had dismissed them as the utterance of anenthusiast, who felt a deep antipathy toward the Japanese, and magnifiedthe danger to be feared from them. Of course, it was absurd--that lastremark of his that at that very moment a Japanese fleet might be on itsway to attack the Pacific Slope. He laughed as he thought of it, but,somehow, the laugh did not ring true.
Wah Lee had kept his word, and frequently called to see his friends. Buthis serenity seemed to be disturbed. He appeared troubled and distrait.At times, he acted as though he were about to tell them something, butwas himself in doubt as to the value of his information, and restrainedhimself. His all-embracing smile was conspicuous by its absence.
"What's bothering the old chap, I wonder," ruminated Tom.
"Search me," laughed Dick. "Something on his conscience, maybe. Perhapshe hasn't burned as many joss sticks before his particular idol as hefeels he ought, and the failure worries him."
"I'm going to get right down to brass tacks, the next time he comes,"said Bert, "and get it out of him."
But the wily Celestial baffled all efforts to "pump" him, and the matterpassed from their minds.
Two days later, however, Wah Lee shuffled past Bert, as the latter wassauntering down the main street of Colon, and, apparently by accident,touched his arm in passing. Bert looked up, and, recognizing theChinaman, started to speak to him. But the latter only gave him a swiftglance from his almond eyes, and kept on, his face as stolid andinscrutable as that of a graven image. In that fleeting look, however,Bert's quick perception recognized that Wah Lee had some object in view,and wanted to talk with him. With a heightened pulse, but stillretaining an indifferent air, he followed.
At the first turning, the Chinaman passed into a side street, Bertkeeping a little way in the rear. The houses grew more infrequent andsoon they came to the suburbs. Still on they went, until, at last, theywere in the open country, and free from observation. Then, in a remotespot, where they could see for a long distance on every side, Wah Leestood still, and Bert ranged alongside.
"Well, Wah Lee," he asked, curiously, "what's the game?"
In answer, the Chinaman drew from his pocket a crumpled sheet of paper,and handed it to Bert. He took it and smoothed it out. At first, itfailed to convey any impression. The drawing was a rough one, and seemedto consist of a series of lines, punctured with dots. But gradually, asBert gazed, his training in mechanics told him that it was a plan of somelarge structure. There were two rectangular outlines, that wereperfectly similar, like two leaves of a table. No, they were gates. Andthen, like a flash, it came across him. They were the gates of the GatunLocks! There was the wavy line, to indicate the water level, and, downbelow these, were the ominous dots. They seemed to be meant for holes,but his knowledge of the locks told him that they had no place in itsstructure. What did those holes mean?
A little shaken, he looked at Wah Lee for the key to the enigma.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"Found it," answered the Chinaman. "Man drop it. Man come to see mybloss. My bloss kill clanal," Wah Lee repeated.
For a moment, Bert's head swam, and a thousand bells seemed to ring inhis ears. Then he steadied himself, and plied the Chinaman with eagerquestions that sought to pluck the heart out of the mystery. Wah Lee'sknowledge of English was very limited, and it took a long time andinfinite patience to get from him what he knew. Gradually, he pieced thebits together, until the whole thing became clear and coherent in hismind.
By the merest accident, Wah Lee had heard enough to know that theJapanese who employed him was engaged in a plot to destroy the Canal.How or when it was to be done, he did not know. It was doubtful if hecould have grasped the details, even if he had heard them, so full theywere of technical matters that conveyed to him no meaning. But he knewthat the plot existed, and dimly understood that this would bring painand suffering to Bert. As far as he himself was concerned, a dozencanals might be destroyed, without affecting him in the least. But heheld the boys in strong affection for having saved his life, and he knewthat he could pay his debt, at least in part, by letting them know whatwas brewing.
As regarded the paper, Wah Lee knew nothing, except that a white man, whospoke English, was a frequent visitor to his master, with whom he heldlong conferences. Only yesterday, on leaving the house after dark, hehad accidentally dropped the plan, and Wah Lee, hovering near, had pickedit up. A vague idea that it might be of value to Bert and prompted himto bring it to him.
This was the sum of the Chinaman's knowledge. He simply knew that his"bloss" was engaged in some kind of a plan to kill the Canal.
But Bert must know more than this--the nature of the plan, the peopleinvolved in it, the methods employed for it, the time set for itsexecution. Then, only, could the proper steps be taken to thwart it.How could this knowledge be obtained? Not by Wah Lee. He hadaccidentally stumbled upon it, and while this, of course, was aninestimable service, abler minds than his must unravel the details.
Whatever was to be done must be done quickly. Time was a factor of primeimportance. Bert looked up at the sky. The sun was near its setting.Night would come on suddenly.
With the rapid resolution that was one of his chief characteristics, Bertmade up his mind.
"Make tracks for home, Wah Lee," he said. "I'm coming with you."
The Chinaman made no demur and expressed no surprise. He led the way andBert followed, racking his brain for the best thing to do. His planstook shape quickly. By the time they drew near the grounds, darkness hadenveloped them like a blanket. He halted the Chinaman and talked to himin whispers.
He must get into the house, without being seen. Where did the talks withthe white man take place? In the library. Very well. Was there anyplace where he, Bert, could be concealed and hear what went on?
But here the Oriental departed from his wonted calm. There was too muchrisk. Bert would be killed. His master had men in the house who obeyedhim absolutely. If he merely lifted his finger, they would kill one manor twenty men.
But Bert was not to be deterred from his purpose. He had embarked onthis venture, and, live or die, he would see it through to a finish. Hecut short the protestations of the frightened Celestial and commanded himto show him the nearest way to the library.
There was no way, Wah Lee averred. The house swarmed with servants, anddetection would be certain. Every window and every room in the mansionwas ablaze with light. Unless he could make himself invisible, theattempt was hopeless.
Circling about the house, in the shadow of the shrubbery, Bert studiedthe location of the room that the Chinaman had pointed out as thelibrary. It was on the second floor, and a broad veranda surrounded thehouse, about two feet beneath the window. Near by, a giant tree uprearedits branches. With a parting word of caution, Bert shied up the treewith the agility of a cat. He ensconced himself firmly on a projectingbranch, and peered through the heavy foliage.
Th
e room into which he looked was a spacious one and furnished with allthe sumptuousness of Eastern luxury. Exquisite tapestries draped thewalls, and priceless jades and porcelains bespoke the taste as well asthe wealth of the owner. Quaint weapons and suits of armor, doubtlessworn at some time by a shogun or samurai ancestor gave a touch ofgrimness to a beauty and delicacy of ornament that might otherwise havebeen excessive.
At a magnificent library table of ebony, inlaid with pearl, a man wasseated with his head on his hand, in an attitude of profound thought.His left hand, playing with the ivory handle of a dagger that lay on thedesk, betrayed a certain restlessness, as though he were waiting forsomeone. From time to time he raised his head, as if listening. At lasthe threw himself back in his chair with a gesture of impatience, and,with unseeing eyes, looked out of the window. And now, Bert, from hisleafy covert, could study his face at leisure.
It was a typical Japanese face, with the high cheekbones and slantingeyes that marked his race. But nothing could hide the proofs of breedingand culture that were revealed in every feature. It was the face of astatesman, a scholar, a warrior, a prince. The habit of command wasstamped upon it, and in his eyes glowed a spirit of resolution thatalmost reached fanaticism. Bert felt instinctively that here was afoeman worthy of any man's steel, a formidable enemy who would sweep awaylike chaff anything that stood between him and the accomplishment of hispurpose.
Once or twice, Bert had seen him in Colon, a notable figure even in atown at that time filled with notables. No one seemed to know much abouthim. Three years ago, he had appeared in Panama and purchased a largelanded estate. He had spent enormous sums in developing it, until it hadbecome famous throughout the Isthmus for its extent and beauty. That theowner was fabulously wealthy could not be doubted. But beyond this, allwas conjecture. He had no official position or diplomatic mission. Nobreath of suspicion had ever been attached to him of being in any sensehostile to American interests. His suavity, his courtesy, hisunquestioned wealth and standing had won for him universal respect. Andyet, if Bert's suspicions proved true, the accomplished Japanesegentleman into whose eyes he was looking, was the most dangerous foe thatAmerica had in the whole wide world.
A door opened and another Japanese entered the room. He was older thanthe man seated at the desk, and his face was creased with the deep linesof wisdom and long experience. He might have been, and probably was, oneof the "elder statesmen"--that august body, that, at home and abroad,guided the destinies of the nation. He saluted ceremoniously the ownerof the house, and they were soon engaged in an animated conversation.
Then a man of a different type was ushered in by an obsequious servant.He was dressed in American fashion, but his face indicated a Spanishorigin. He was a Cuban who had been educated as a civil engineer in oneof the scientific schools of the United States. His features were alertand intelligent, but there was a certain shiftiness in his eyes, andsomething about him gave an indefinable air of dissipation. He had beenemployed for a time in harbor work at Vera Cruz, but had killed a man ina brawl and been forced to flee the country. On the Canal, there wereeighty-seven distinct nationalities engaged in the work, and, in view ofthe great demand for labor, he had no difficulty in securing employment,the more easily as he was an expert in his profession. He had beenassigned to the Gatun section of the work, with his quarters in the cityof Colon.
The Japanese secret service, in its search for a suitable tool, hadbecome possessed of the facts regarding the murder for which the man,Ofirio, by name, was wanted by the Mexican authorities. With infinitecaution and by slow degrees, they had approached and sounded him. Theyappealed to his fears and his avarice. As regards the first, they couldbetray him to his pursuers. For the second, they promised him an amountof money greater than he could expect to earn in the course of hisnatural life, and a safe refuge in Japan. Under the stress of these twoprimal emotions, he had yielded, and, for a year past, had been in thepower and the pay of Namoto, the Japanese, in whose library he was atthat moment standing. He it was who had dropped the paper that Wah Leehad so fortunately retrieved and which had given Bert the first hint ofthe appalling disaster that threatened his country.
Bert noticed the subtle something in the air of Namoto--a mixture ofpower, disdain, and condescension--as he motioned the engineer to aseat. From a stray word or two that came to him, he noted that they weretalking in English, which both understood, while neither could speak thenative language of the other.
And now it became imperative that Bert should hear the conference thatconcerned him so tremendously. From where he was, he could seeperfectly, but could hear nothing but an occasional disconnected word.He must leave his safe retreat, take his life in his hands and reach theveranda that ran beneath the open window.
Silently, he removed his shoes, and, tying them together by the laces,hung them over the branch. Then he crept out on the heavy bough thatreached within three feet of the porch. Holding on by his hands, he lethimself down, swung back and forth once or twice to get the propermomentum, and then letting himself go, landed as lightly as a lynx uponthe veranda. A moment he swayed trying to keep his nearly lost balance,while he looked anxiously to see if the conspirators had heard. Theyshowed no sign of disturbance, however, and, with a muttered prayer ofthankfulness, Bert dropped on his hands and knees and crept beneath thesill. And there, safe for the instant, with every faculty strained toits utmost, he became a fourth, if unseen, member of the group.
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