The Mystery of the Chinese Junk Read Online Free

faster!” Frank hissed. “Then we can find out if they’re really following us.”
    The boys quickened their pace and turned at the next corner.
    â€œThey’re still with us!” Joe reported.
    Unfortunately, there was no policeman in sight; only pedestrians, who were, in the main, Orientals.
    â€œWe’d better shake those men off!” Frank decided.
    The four youths broke into a sprint, ducking in and out among the sidewalk strollers. The pace got hotter as the pursuit continued. The boys cut through an alley, crossed a street, and turned at the next corner. For several minutes they dodged and doubled back through the narrow streets. Finally they were sure they had shaken their pursuers.
    â€œMan, I’m bushed!” Chet panted as they paused for breath in front of a Chinese grocery. Then his expression changed. “Hey, look at all this chow!”
    He pointed to the store window. Shark fins, pressed ducks, and dried squid were displayed along with Chinese herbs and vegetables.
    â€œInteresting,” said Frank, “but we’d better find the Canton Palace before those men spot us again!”
    By this time, colored electric signs were blinking on all over the neighborhood, many in Chinese. Store windows were crammed with Oriental merchandise, including carved Buddhas, jade trinkets, and Chinese silk pajamas.
    â€œHere’s the restaurant!” Joe exclaimed presently.
    When they entered the dimly lighted restaurant, the headwaiter came forward and with a polite smile showed them to a booth. Frank asked for Jim Foy’s uncle and cousin.
    â€œAh, yes, I bring them right away,” the headwaiter promised.
    A few moments later Mr. Dan Foy approached. He was a pleasant, round-faced man with gold-rimmed spectacles. He said that Ben had had to go on an errand.
    â€œYou are friends of my esteemed nephew, I understand.”
    â€œThat’s right, sir.” Frank introduced himself, Joe, and their two chums. “Jim is a good friend and he’s one of our partners in buying the junk.”
    â€œSo happy to hear that.”
    Mr. Foy chatted with the boys awhile and took personal charge of ordering their dinner. Soon the four youths were enjoying bird’s-nest soup, roast duck, egg rolls, and almond cakes.
    Suddenly a deep singsong voice said, “I understand you are owners of a junk called the Hai Hau.”
    The boys looked up, startled. The speaker was a giant Chinese, with a long melon-shaped head and jutting ears. He had glided out of the shadows to their booth.
    â€œHow do you know that?” Frank asked sharply.
    â€œDid you not say so to honorable restaurant owner?” The man smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Chin Gok. I would like to buy the Hai Hau.”
    â€œI’m sorry, but the boat is not for sale.”
    The huge Chinese smiled. “Do not decide too hastily. I will pay much more than it cost. Let us say, a profit of one hundred dollars?”
    Frank glanced at the others, then shook his head. “No, thanks. We’re keeping the junk.”
    Chin Gok’s face went pale with rage, but he did not speak. Bowing, he walked away.
    â€œWow! A hundred bucks’ profit!” Biff muttered. “Maybe we should have taken it!”
    â€œNothing doing,” Joe declared in a whisper. “If that junk is so valuable, we’re hanging on to it.”
    Worried by the strange events of the afternoon and evening, the boys were anxious to get back to the Hai Hau. They finished their meal, thanked Mr. Foy for his hospitality, and left the restaurant.
    â€œLet’s take a taxi,” Chet suggested nervously.
    â€œGood idea, if we can find one,” Frank said.
    The boys hurried toward Chatham Square. As they passed a darkened doorway, Joe heard a shuffling noise. Before he could turn, someone grabbed him.
    â€œLook out!” Joe yelled to the others.
    The boys whirled to find themselves facing