rring of a muffled bell in the hall. He had come.

Should she go? A mood of reckless desperation seized her.

"I will," she declared.

The next instant she was tucking a short, gleaming blade beneath her
silk middy and then drawing on a long silk coat.

The man waited in the hallway. He was doubtless prepared for another
extended argument, but none came. Instead, the girl walked down the
steps with him and into a waiting taxi.

It was a rather long ride they took. First speeding along between rows
of apartment houses they at last dashed into the business section of
the city. The stranger sat in one corner of the cab, not saying a word.
Passing through the business section, they approached the river. It was
then that Cio-Cio-San's heart began to be filled with dread. She had
heard of many dark deeds done down by the river. But after all, what
could they want of her, a poor Japanese girl, almost without funds?

The cab came to a stop with a jolt. A tall building loomed above them.
The strange Japanese held the door open that she might alight. She
stepped to the sidewalk, and, at that instant, strong arms seized her,
pinning her arms to her sides, while a coarse cloth was drawn tightly
over her mouth. She then felt herself being pushed through space, and
the next moment heard the muffled echoes of the footsteps of her
captors. They were in the basement of some great deserted building, the
sound told her that.

"Betrayed! Betrayed!" her mind kept repeating. "Betrayed by one of my
own people!"

CHAPTER XVII

A THREE-CORNERED BATTLE

While Johnny and Hanada were being led away to the patrol box a young
man came running up. He was a reporter, out scouting for news.

"Who's that?" he asked, as he caught a glimpse of Johnny's face.

"Johnny Thompson, you nut!" growled the policeman. "Didn't you never
view that map of his before?"

"Yes, but Johnny Thompson's dead."

"All right, have it your own way."

"What's the charge?"

"Conspiracy. Now beat it."

The youth started on a run for the nearest telephone. He had hit upon a
first page story. A half-hour later every newsboy in the downtown
district was shouting himself hoarse, and the words he shouted were
these:

"All about Johnny Thompson. Johnny Thompson, featherweight champion.
Alive! Arrested for conspiracy! Extry!"

The theatre crowds were thronging the streets, and the newsies reaped a
rich harvest. Among those in the throng was Mazie Mortimer