truth in this matter, he was loath to part with them.

But in keeping them he was taking a risk. He might be attacked and
killed by that ruthless gang at any time.

For a long time he sat, staring down at the river. He was not in a happy
mood. He was tired of all this trouble, fighting and mystery. On crowded
State street that afternoon, he had seen Mazie. That made it worse. He
had never seen her look so well. She had changed; grown older, and he
thought a little sadder. Was the sadness caused by the fact that she
believed him dead? He dared to hope so. All this filled him with a mad
desire to touch her hand once more, to speak to her, to assure her in a
score of ways that he was not dead.

Then Hanada had disappointed him. He had hoped they would meet again and
have another conference that night; had hoped that the wise little Jap
would have some solution of the mystery of the shots from the river, and
the strange disappearance of the man they had taken to be the Russian.
But Hanada had said "No." He had given no reason; had merely left things
that way. Hanada had been like that always; he never explained. Perhaps
he did have some other important engagement; then why could he not tell
Johnny of it? Why all this constant enshrouding of affairs in mystery?
What did he, Johnny, know about the whole business anyway? Not a thing.
He was only assured by the Jap that it was his duty to stick on the
trail of the Russian until it led somewhere in particular. He was not,
in any circumstances, to have him arrested or killed without first
consulting Hanada.

"What rot!"