The Bradys After a Chinese Princess: or, The Yellow Fiends of 'Frisco. Doughty Francis Worcester

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      "Lay for them, Harry! Chinks in a boat! Coming your way!"

      Young King Brady listened, catching the sound of oars.

      But it was only for a minute.

      "They have either stopped or muffled their oars!" he said when he heard Old King Brady right above him exclaim:

      "Good heavens! What's this?"

      "Anything the matter with Alice?" cried Harry, and he went up the standing ladder flying.

      Old King Brady was peering about in the fog.

      The two Secret Service men were just coming up.

      "What is it?" cried Harry. "Where's Alice? I have called her several times, but she don't answer."

      "Why, I left her right here, and that box with her; both seem to have vanished," Old King Brady answered in a tone which fully betrayed his anxiety.

      But it was easy to mistake the exact position in the fog.

      A moment's search revealed the puzzling fact that nowhere on the bulkhead Alice and the heavy box containing the imprisoned princess was to be found.

      The Bradys and the Secret Service men pushed about everywhere.

      One of the first things they did was to turn the corner of the end warehouse and look there along the street.

      "She has been captured and carried off. She must have gone this way," Harry exclaimed.

      "Or into one of the warehouses," said Old King Brady.

      "I'll get up the street. You get along by the warehouses," cried Harry, and he started away on the run.

      It was ten minutes before he returned.

      "Learned anything?" demanded Old King Brady, anxiously.

      "Nothing. I went two blocks. Didn't see a soul; no need to ask you if you had better luck, I suppose?"

      "I had none at all. I have tried the different doors, but I can't find any that is open now, whatever the case may have been a few minutes ago."

      And such are the circumstances of the most mysterious disappearance Alice has ever made, and she has made many, for, of course, troubles form a part of the life of a detective.

      Poor Harry was in despair. Old King Brady exceedingly anxious and also vexed with himself to think that he had not insisted upon Alice going aboard the boat.

      "And you heard no noise of any kind?" he asked for the third time.

      "Not a sound," replied Harry. "I was sitting quiet in the boat, too."

      "When was the last you heard her speak?"

      "Just before the firing began. Was it you who fired?"

      "We fired back at three Chinamen who fired on us from a boat."

      "Sailboat – rowboat?"

      "Rowboat. Didn't you hear the sound of oars?"

      "Yes, yes! I am so rattled that I hardly know what I'm saying. What on earth shall we do?"

      "We have to look after our captured opium, too. You remain here, Harry, and Leggett can stop with you. I'll run the stuff around into the India Basin and make sure of it. Don't you go doing the disappearance act now."

      "Same to you, governor. Oh, these Chinks! I wish we might never have another mix-up with them."

      Old King Brady made no reply, but hastily descended to the launch, which towed the captured sailboat to a bonded warehouse on the India Basin, where Secret Service men were waiting to receive them.

      It was daybreak before he got back to the Islais Creek Channel again.

      The fog had vanished with the night, and a hot August wind was blowing the sand about after the usual San Francisco style.

      Harry and the Secret Service man were standing on the bulkhead.

      "Have you learned anything?" demanded Old King Brady as the launch drew near.

      "Not a thing, worse luck," replied Harry. "If ever there was a mystery it is this."

      "It is certainly a bad job," replied the old detective, "but such as it is we must make the best of it. Let us wait for the opening up of these warehouses. Information of some sort may come from a quarter we least suspect."

      Seven o'clock came, bringing with it the men connected with the warehouses.

      Among them was the dock foreman, who demanded the Bradys' business.

      He seemed slightly startled when he saw the Secret Service shield.

      "Who is Volckman?" demanded the old detective, abruptly.

      "I am Volckman," was the reply.

      "What's your position here?"

      "I am dock foreman."

      "Which means that you have charge of the laborers?"

      "Yes."

      "Who is superintendent of these stores?"

      "Mr. Renshaw."

      "When is he due here?"

      "Eight o'clock."

      "Will he remain here right along after that?"

      "Yes; all day."

      "I want to see Mr. Renshaw. Tell him Old King Brady was speaking to you, and that he will return in about an hour."

      The Bradys went away in their launch then, going to breakfast at the Palace Hotel, where they were staying.

      The first thing Old King Brady did upon their arrival at the hotel was to call up Secret Service Commissioner Narraway and tell him of their partial success.

      He did not mention Alice's disappearance nor the matter of the Chinese princess, leaving these things to be communicated by word of mouth later on when, it was to be hoped, he would understand them better himself.

      Breakfast over, the Bradys lost no time in keeping their appointment with Mr. Renshaw, who proved to be a civil, intelligent gentleman.

      Old King Brady at once explained the whole situation.

      "This certainly seems to be a serious piece of business," said Mr. Renshaw after hearing the old detective through. "I can't understand what brought these Chinamen here or how they came to use Mr. Volckman's name. Is there no possibility of Miss Montgomery being mistaken?"

      "I don't think so. Her knowledge of Chinese is excellent."

      "And her disappearance a serious matter for you, I realize. I can't imagine that she and this singular box can have been taken into any of our warehouses."

      "You have perfect confidence in Volckman?"

      "Always have had. Would you like to question СКАЧАТЬ