“I don’t believe I shall like China,” Dan declared prophetically.
Now that the road was clear, “Burnt-face” crossed the street. He did not go to the Café de Paris, but stepped up in front of a drug store, where he halted and turned around.
In passing, Dave and Dan managed, without staring, to get a good look at the yellow face. In addition to the purple mark under the right eye, “Burnt-face,” with his lips parted, displayed one incisor tooth, the lower end of which had been broken off. At the left side of his chin was a mark such as might have been made by a knife or a bullet.
“He’s an ugly-looking customer,” Dan muttered, when he and his chum had passed a few yards beyond the drug store.
“That face carries a history,” guessed Darrin. “Nor do I believe that it is a very savory history.”
“I believe that the only real pirates left in the world,” observed Dan, “are the Black Flags that every now and then infest Chinese waters. I wonder if ‘Burnt-face’ were ever apprenticed to the Black Flags.”
“Don’t talk about him any more,” murmured Dave, after a backward glance. “The Chinaman is now returning our late courtesies by following us.”
Attracted by the window display of a shop that dealt in Hindu curios, the two young naval officers went inside.
“I want to buy something pretty with which to surprise Belle,” Dave explained, as the chums roamed through the shop, inspecting the hundreds of quaint and artistic articles offered for sale.
“You expect her to reach Manila the 26th of the month, don’t you?” Dan asked.