“What papers did you steal while in the mountains?” demanded Lemon, springing to his feet, his face deadly white, his fists swinging aimlessly in the air.
“Lists,” Ned replied. “Lists of Chinamen brought from over the border, and lists of opium cases smuggled in. I have the papers in my possession now. They match with the statement you examined just before I made my appearance in the room—just before you counted the money you received from this illegal traffic.”
The old man leaped at Ned, but the boy moved away and stood by the door. The Jap stepped closer. There came a sound of whispering, a noise of footsteps, from the hall outside. Then the door was opened and Greer, Slocum, Chang Chee and two others entered, glancing keenly at Ned as they passed him, still standing by the door.
“Do you mean to accuse my son of crime?” shouted the old man, not noticing the new-comers in his rage and excitement. “You scoundrel!”
“How do you know,” Ned asked, with a smile at the others, “that this man is Albert Lemon, your son?”
CHAPTER XIX.—THE MAN BEHIND THE SCENES.
“Not my son!” shouted the old man. “This has gone quite far enough! Jap, call the police, and order this mad youngster taken away.”
The younger man broke into a harsh laugh and turned to those who had just entered. Slocum and Chang Chee were whispering together, and a dangerous looking knife showed in the hand of the false ranger.
“You hear what father says, boys,” Lemon said. “Remember that.”
“What is this kid doing here, anyway?” demanded Slocum.