He was gone. Johnny stared after him. What was it all about? He had to know. He would be at Whong Lee’s place at four on Monday—he was sure of that.
CHAPTER III
THE THOUGHT CAMERA
“I now proceed to take a picture of your mind.” The queer little Chinaman who called himself Tao Sing twisted his face into a smile and in doing so added a hundred wrinkles to the thousand that already made up his rather comical face.
Four o’clock on the Monday following the ball game had found Johnny at the door of Whong Lee’s little shop asking for Tao Sing. Tao Sing had said he would show him a picture of his thoughts. Johnny did not believe he could do that. However, one of Johnny’s rules for living was, “Never pass anything up.” So here he was.
“Take a picture of my mind?” he laughed. “You can’t do that. I still have my head on. You can’t take a picture through my skull.”
“No. This I cannot do,” the little man said soberly. “But I can make a picture of what you think.”
“What I think,” Johnny whispered to himself. “That’s what he said the other night. Of course it’s nonsense. But he did tell me what I had thought about the pep meet. He did tell me what none of our team knew about the ball game. I’m going to find out how he did that if I can.”
“You mean you can read my mind?” he said to the little Chinaman.
“No, I cannot read your mind. No! No! Not that.” The little man’s brow puckered in a comical manner. “I can make a picture of your thoughts. You shall see.
“Wait!” Tao Sing twisted a knob on some small instrument before him on a table. He punched a button that made a loud click.