The English-born air ace greeted him with a grin like a Cheshire cat.
"And let that be a lesson to you, my good fellow," Freddy said with an emphatic nod of his head.
"Says which?" Dawson grunted, and gave him a blank look.
Freddy Farmer patted his stomach and licked his lips.
"A delicious meal, quite!" he breathed. "I hope you gave the waiter a decent tip. But, knowing you, I doubt it."
Dawson started violently, and his jaw dropped.
"Well, you little I-don't-know-what!" he eventually exploded. "Stuck me for the meal, didn't you? I knew darn well you must have had something in mind when you gave your last two bucks to those soldiers. You play the big-hearted big shot to them, and I get stuck for your two bucks' worth of food!"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Freddy Farmer chuckled. "Just say it's your share in the lease-lend agreement between America and England. I'll pay you back some day, too."
"Yeah!" Dawson sneered. "When I'm a hundred and six and have lost all my teeth. When I can eat only soup instead of a thick steak like I just bought for you. But you just wait, my little bowlegged pet! I'll—Oh-oh! The man in gray, eh?" Dawson added the last because of the flinty look that had suddenly leaped into Farmer's eyes.
"Quite!" Freddy murmured. "And I'm jolly well sick of this hide-and-seek business. I'm going to find out what the blighter's up to. I detest shadows, excepting my own."