his own person; far from that.
Somewhere back in China this crafty fellow was accumulating a fortune.
He was making it in this dim, taper-lighted, secret shop, opening off an
alley in Vladivostok.

In these times of shifting scenes, when the rich of to-day were the poor
of to-morrow, or at least were under the necessity of feigning poverty,
there were many people who wished to change their station in life, and
that very quickly. It was Wo Cheng's business to help them make this
change. Many a Russian noble had sought this noisome shop to exchange
his "purple and fine linen" for very humble garb, and just what he took
from the pockets of one and put in the pockets of the other suit, Wo
Cheng had a way of guessing, though he appeared not to see at all.

Johnny had known Wo Cheng for some time. He had discovered his shop by
accident when out scouting for billets for American soldiers. He had
later assisted in protecting the place from a raid by Japanese military
police.

"You wanchee somsling?" The Oriental grinned, as Johnny seated himself
cross-legged on a grass mat.

"Yep," Johnny grinned in return, "wanchee change." He gripped the lapel
of his blouse, as if he would remove it and exchange for another.

"You wanchee clange?" The Chinaman squinted at him with an air of
incredulity.

Then a light of understanding seemed to over-spread his face. "Ow!" he
exclaimed, "no can do, Mellican officer, not any. No can do."

"Wo Cheng, you no savvy," answered Johnny, glancing about at the tiers
of costumes which hung on either side of the wall.

"Savvy! Savvy!" exclaimed Wo Cheng, bounding away to return with the
uniform of an American private. "Officer, all same," he exclaimed. "No
can do."

"No good," said Johnny, starting up. "You no savvy. Mebby you no wanchee
savvy. No wanchee uniform. Wanchee clothes, fur, fur, plenty warm, you
savvy? Go north, north, cold, savvy?"

"Ow!" exclaimed the Chinaman, scratching his head.

"Wo Cheng!" said Johnny solemnly, "long time my see you. Allatime, my
see you. Not speak American Major; not speak Japanese police."

Wo Cheng shivered.

"Now," said Johnny, "my come buy."

"Ow!" grunted Wo Cheng, ducking from sight and reappearing quickly with
a great coat of real seal, trimmed with sea otter, a trifle which had
cost some noble of other days a king's ransom.

"No wanchee," Johnny shook his head.

"Ow!" Wo Cheng shook his head incredulously. This was his rarest
offering. "You