To this the man made no reply, but kept on running. Raising his pistol, Gilbert fired, and the man staggered and gave a cry of pain. The young captain had aimed for his leg and the bullet had gone true.
“Why didn’t you stop when I told you?” asked Gilbert as he came up. The man had sunk to the ground at the foot of the small garden attached to the building.
“I will have the law on you for this,” grumbled the man, in broken Chinese.
“You cannot deceive me, Ivan Snokoff,” returned Gilbert, in Russian. And reaching forward he pulled off the false queue the Russian was wearing and cast it on the ground.
“Ha! it’s Gilbert Pennington!” gasped the man. “And in the uniform of a Japanese officer. Why do you masquerade thus?”
“It is no masquerade. I am a Japanese officer, Snokoff, and, let me add, I had a perfect right to shoot you down when I did. You can be thankful that I did not aim for your heart instead of your leg.”
“An officer of the Japanese army!” groaned Ivan Snokoff, and all his courage deserted him. “I am lost!”
“You are a fine sneak and swindler, Snokoff. You played a fine trick on me at Port Arthur.”
“It—it was all a—a mistake!” whined the other. “All a mistake, I assure you, Mr. Pennington. I mean to pay you every ruble, yes, every one!”
“If that’s the case, you had better pay up right now,” and Gilbert glanced at the bundle Ivan Snokoff had been carrying. “Or shall I take possession of that?”