"It may be a secret, but only a thousand stations are listening in," he said at length. "But, thanks, old-timer, just the same. If they pinch Peter Moore in Hong Kong, they will have to extradite him from Kowloon. In other words, they will have to go some. Besides, what Peter does in Shanghai cannot be laid against him in Hong Kong. The law's the law."
A savage tenor whine here broke in upon Manila's laughing answer, the Hi! Hi! Hi! of the amused radio man; and Peter listened in some annoyance to the peremptory summons of a United States gunboat, probably nosing around somewhere south of Mindanao.
"Stand by, Manila," shrilled this one. "Message for the Persian Gulf." He broke off with a nimble signature.
"Good morning, little stranger," roared Peter's stridulent machine. "You're pretty far from home. Won't you get your feet wet? The ocean's pretty dewy this morning. Well, what do you want? Shoot it, and shoot fast. Peter Moore's at the key, and the faster you shoot them the better Peter likes them."
The gunboat stuttered angrily.
"A message for Peter Moore, operator in charge, steamer Persian Gulf, at sea. Report immediately upon arrival in Hong Kong to American consul for orders. (Signed) B. P. Eckles, commanding officer, U. S. S. Buffalo."
To which Peter composed the following pertinent reply:
"To Commander Eckles, U. S. S. Buffalo, somewhere south of Mindanao. What for? (Signed) Peter Moore."
The promptness of the reply to this indicated that the recrudescence of Peter Moore, dead or alive, was of sufficient interest to command the presence of the gunboat's commander in the wireless house. In effect, Peter now realized that his confession had got him into considerable hot water.
Back came the Buffalo's nervous answer: "To Peter Moore, operator in charge, steamer Persian Gulf, at sea. Orders. Obey them. (Signed) B. P. Eckles."