"I will be the one to take the rifle," the policeman said.
Rick wondered at the strange flavor of the phrase. But he was to hear it many times while in the Philippines. "I will be the one...." It was a literal translation from the Spanish.
"I will be the one to take the names," the second policeman said, opening his notebook. "You will have to make charges."
"No use," Tony replied. "Let's forget the whole thing. We'll never catch up with the man, whoever he was."
Nevertheless, the police insisted on names and histories, and it was ten minutes before the Spindrifters made their way back to the hotel. In the main dining room they talked over cups of hot chocolate, ignoring the curious stares of late supper guests who obviously wondered about Rick and Scotty's disheveled condition.
Since the boys had not wanted to discuss their personal business in front of Lazada's chauffeur there had been no chance to tell Tony about Chahda. Now they did so, and Rick ticked off points on his fingers.
"Item One: The man on the boat who tried to chop you. Either an Igorot or Ifugao. Item Two: Chahda checks out of the hotel and appears as a Sikh guard at Lazada's."
"You forgot Item Three," Scotty added. "Colonel Felix Rojas. Asked us what good is hay to a dead horse, and knew we were having dinner at Lazada's." He described the incident to Tony.
"Item Four," Rick continued. "We find a prowler in your room. He had a rifle cached in the walled city and waited around to use it on us. He was either an Igorot or Ifugao." He spread his hands. "Do we need anything more? Something is in the wind. But what?"
"A golden skull," Scotty said.