"Let's see it!" cried Jack.
"I'll bet it's a mental photograph!" Jimmie went on. "That is the only kind Ned carries."
"What does he look like?" asked Frank.
"Yes; tell us. We may see him first!" urged Jimmie.
"He's short, and very broad across the shoulders, with one shoulder lower than the other. He is quite bald, and there is a cicatrice on his left cheek where a Malay cut him. There is a squint in one of his eyes, and there is a scar along the ball of his right thumb."
"Quit your kiddin'!" said Jimmie. "You never saw him."
"Pat saw him," was the reply, "and French and some of the military people at Manila saw him. He left with the man whose acquaintance I want to make, or just before him."
"Seems like looking for a needle in a haymow," Frank said, "but I'll wager my hat against a swipe in the jaw that we find him."
"'We!'" repeated Jimmie, with due scorn.
"For instance," Frank said, "what do you think of the fellow over there talking with the man in the kimono and the derby hat of the vintage of 1880?"