But the door had closed.  The American looked at his watch.  It was one o’clock.  The train went at four.  He must hurry.

He was about to move out from among the furs, when again there came a rap, this time loud and insistent, as if coming from one who was accustomed to be obeyed.

“American officer!” Johnny stifled a groan, as he slid back into hiding.

“Wo Cheng!” he cautioned again in a whisper, “my wanchee you keep mouth shut; you savvy?”

“O-o-ee,” mumbled Wo Cheng, his hand on the latch.

CHAPTER II

THE MYSTERIOUS RUSSIAN

Johnny’s jaw dropped, and he barely checked a gasp, as through his screen of furs he saw the man who now entered Wo Cheng’s den of disguises.  He was none other than the man of the street fight, the short one of the broad shoulders and sharp chin.  Johnny was surprised in more ways than one; surprised that the man was here at all; that it could have been he who had given that authoritative signal at the door, and most of all, surprised that Wo Cheng should have admitted him so readily, and should be treating him with such deference.

“Evidently,” Johnny thought to himself, “this fellow has been here before.”

Although unquestionably a Russian, the newcomer appeared quite equal to the task of making his wants known in Chinese, for after a moment’s conversation the two men made their way toward the back of the room.

Johnny had his second shock when he saw the garments the Russian began to examine.  They were no other than those which had twice before in the last hour been examined by customers, the clothing for the Far North.  This was too much.  Again, he barely checked a gasp.  Was the entire population of the city about to move to the polar regions?  He would ask Wo Cheng.  In the meantime, Johnny prayed that the Russian might make his choice speedily, since the time of departure of his train was approaching.

The Russian made his selections, apparently more from a sense of taste than with an eye to warmth and service.  This final choice was a suit of squirrel skin and boots of deer skin.

“Cumshaw?”

Into Wo Cheng’s beady, squinting eyes, as he addressed this word to the Russian, there came a look of malignant cunning which Johnny had not seen there before.  It sent chills racing up and down his spine.  It almost seemed to him that the Chinaman’s hand was feeling for his belt, where his knife was hidden.

For a moment the Russian turned his back to Wo Cheng, and so faced Johnny.  Behind his screen, the “Yank” could observe his actions without himself being seen.

From an inner pocket the Russian extracted a long, thick envelope.  Unwrapping the cord at the top of this, he shook from it three shining particles.

“Diamonds!” Johnny’s eyes were dazzled with the lustre of the jewels.

The Russian, selecting one, dropped the others back into the envelope.