There was no answer.
“Don’t you speak English?” Biff asked.
“I’m afraid they don’t,” a voice said behind him.
Biff whirled. It was the stewardess. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“No,” Biff said lamely. “I was just—er—just going to get a glass of water.”
The stewardess moved on. Biff downed the glass of water which he didn’t need and started back to his seat. As he came to the side where the Chinese were sitting, he decided to try a little trick.
He bent toward the floor of the plane.
“Is that your glasses case on the floor?” he asked.
The Chinese in the outside seat bent forward. His hand reached down, feeling by his feet. Then, quickly realizing he had given himself away, he sat up straight, and stared ahead.
A big smile of satisfaction decorated Biff’s face as he settled himself in his seat. He knew one thing about them at least. They understood English—but good! And they could have taken another airline from Chicago to San Francisco.