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<p class="center"><span class="ss">A BIFF BREWSTER
<br/>MYSTERY ADVENTURE</span></p>
<h1>MYSTERY <br/>OF THE <br/>CHINESE <br/>RING</h1>
<h1 title=""><span class="ss">MYSTERY OF THE CHINESE RING</span></h1>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</div>
<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">CHAPTER 1</span> <br/>A Mysterious Gift</h2>
<p>Biff Brewster was suddenly awake—wide
awake. The gray light of dawn outlined the window
of his first-floor bedroom. Something—or someone—was
outside. He felt sure of it. Something had
prodded him out of his deep sleep with startling suddenness.</p>
<p>For a moment he lay still, eyes on the window, his
ears sharply tuned for the slightest sound. He knew,
of course, that he might have been awakened by a
stray dog, or a night-prowling cat. But he didn’t think
so.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</div>
<p>Very carefully, Biff slipped out of his bed. Bare-footed,
he padded noiselessly toward the window, taking
care to remain outside the dim shaft of early light
coming through. He moved to one side of the window
and peered out cautiously. He detected a slight
movement beneath a gnarled apple tree about thirty
feet away. Then suddenly, swiftly, a figure emerged
from behind the protection of the tree’s drooping
limbs. The figure came at a run toward the window. It
was a man, small and slight of build. He was wearing
blue jeans and a sweat shirt. On the shirt’s front there
was an athletic letter—Biff couldn’t make it out—cut
from luminous cloth, making it glow faintly in the
dawn’s light.</p>
<p>Biff drew back, pressing his body against the wall.
A moment later a white object, the size of a baseball,
came hurtling into the room, tearing a hole in the
screen. It fell with a dull plop on Biff’s pillow. Biff
held his breath, waiting. The man was leaving the
yard on the run. At the sidewalk, he slowed to a casual
saunter. Apparently he did not want to risk attracting
the attention of some early riser.</p>
<p>Biff waited. He counted slowly to a hundred, to
make sure his strange visitor was gone. Once more he
looked out the window. Nothing moved in the eerie
light of the dawn. Biff turned away. Had he waited
a few seconds longer, he would have seen two men
leave the shadows of a corner tree and stealthily follow
the hurler of the object.</p>
<p>Biff snapped on the reading light by his bed and
picked up the object that had been tossed through his
window. It was a round white rock, one of those
used to outline his mother’s herb garden. More interesting
was the heavy piece of twine tied tightly
around it. At the other end of the twine was a ring. It
was a man’s heavy ring, set with a square-cut green
stone. Biff examined it carefully. The stone was dull,
not glittering. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was
jade. He looked at the ring more closely. On its face
there was an intricately etched marking. “A design?”
he wondered. “No, it looks more like Chinese writing.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</div>
<div class="fig"> <ANTIMG src="images/p01.jpg" alt="" width-obs="500" height-obs="703" /> <p class="caption"><i>Nothing moved in the eerie light of dawn</i></p> </div>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</div>
<p>Twisted into a knot around the ring was a small
piece of paper. Biff unfolded it carefully and
smoothed it out.</p>
<p>“<i>Fortune shines upon, and the gods protect, the
wearer of this ring</i>,” he read.</p>
<p>“‘Protect!’” Biff thought angrily. “Why, that rock
could have conked me but good if I hadn’t left my
bed.”</p>
<p>Biff reread the printed message. “Now what, just
what,” he thought, “has this got to do with me?” He
stretched out on his bed, cupping his hands behind his
head, and stared at the ceiling. Unable to read any
sense into the message, or the mysterious manner in
which the ring had come to him, Biff jumped out of
bed and made for the shower.</p>
<p>Under the pelting needlelike spray, he threw back
his broad shoulders and let the water sting his face
and soak his light-brown hair. Afterward he toweled
himself vigorously, dressed quickly, and placed the
ring on his key chain. He knew his father would be
up, even though it was only six-thirty. Maybe his father
would have some ideas about this or, at least, a
couple of good guesses.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</div>
<p>Biff bounded into the kitchen.</p>
<p>“Morning, Dad. Say, what do you think happened—”
He stopped short as he saw his mother
come out of the pantry. He didn’t want to mention
the ring incident in front of her. Not yet, anyway.
Not until he had discussed it with his father. He knew
his mother already was worried enough about his impending
trip to far-off Rangoon. Tomorrow was the
day he was leaving.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Biff,” his father greeted him.
“What were you saying?”</p>
<p>“Er—I was just saying it so happens I’m hungry
enough to eat a crocodile. Good morning, Mother.
What’s for breakfast?”</p>
<p>“Certainly not crocodile,” Mrs. Brewster replied.
“Even if you and your father do say crocodile steaks
are delicious. Ugh!” She gave a quick shudder.</p>
<p>Father and son looked at one another and smiled.
They had had to eat crocodile on their Brazilian adventure
when their food supplies had run short.</p>
<p>“What’s on the program this nice bright Saturday
morning?” Biff’s mother asked, putting large portions
of scrambled eggs and bacon before Biff and his
father.</p>
<p>Before a reply could be made, Biff’s brother and
sister, Ted and Monica, eleven-year-old twins, burst
into the room.</p>
<p>“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” they shouted together.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</div>
<p>“Gee, Biff, just think, tomorrow you’ll be on your
way to Rangoon in Burma, to visit Uncle Charlie,”
Ted said enviously.</p>
<p>“Wish I could go, too,” Monica chimed in.</p>
<p>“You! Why, you’re a girl,” Ted said derisively.</p>
<p>“Now, no arguments, you two,” Mrs. Brewster
said. “Drink your orange juice. I’ll start your eggs.”</p>
<p>“How far from Indianapolis is it to Rangoon?”
Monica asked.</p>
<p>“Quite a way. Six or seven thousand miles at least,”
Mr. Brewster replied.</p>
<p>“You ever been there, Dad?” Ted asked.</p>
<p>“No. I envy Biff. Rangoon is one of the places in
this world I’ve missed so far.”</p>
<p>“And about the only one, Dad, isn’t it?” Biff asked.</p>
<p>“There are a few others,” his father replied.
“Maybe if I had started out as young as you are, I’d
have made them, too. For a sixteen-year-old, you’ve
been about this world of ours quite a bit, me boy-o.
Well, I’m all for it.”</p>
<p>“I am too, Dad,” Biff agreed. “Remember the time
in Brazil, when we—”</p>
<p>“Hold it!” Mrs. Brewster interrupted, laughing.
“Don’t you two get started talking about your adventures.
There’s just this one more day before Biff
leaves, and my goodness, what a lot has to be done!”</p>
<p>Biff smiled. He knew there was hardly anything
left to be done. His mother had finished packing for
him the day before.</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</div>
<p>Just as Mrs. Brewster brought the twins their eggs,
the telephone rang. Monica started to get up. She answered
every phone call.</p>
<p>“You sit still and eat those eggs while they’re hot,
young lady. I’ll take the call,” Mrs. Brewster said.</p>
<p>Biff and his father saw a puzzled look come over
her face as she answered the telephone.</p>
<p>“Yes? I understand. This morning? All right, I’ll
tell them.”</p>
<p>When she returned to the breakfast table she said,
“That was Charlie’s friend, that Chinese merchant,
Mr. Ling. Ling Tang, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Why, yes. What did he want?” Tom Brewster
asked.</p>
<p>“He said it is most urgent that you and Biff see him
before Biff leaves for Rangoon.”</p>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</div>
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