"I wouldn't know, old thing," he said. "You see, this isn't England, so I wouldn't know for sure what kind of funny business was afoot."
"Ouch!" Dawson yipped softly, and flung up an arm in front of his face. "Right in the eye, that time. You're improving each day with your snappy come-back, my young friend. Keep it up, and you'll be the life of the party some day. Well, I guess that's all the fodder I want right now. How's for a stroll around in the beautiful January snow, huh? But it's probably slush by now, and—Hey! I almost forgot! You think I'm paying for your meal, don't you? Well—"
"Of course not!" Freddy Farmer cut in quickly. "And just to show my heart's in the right place, I'll even pay for both of us."
"I wonder if there's a doctor in the house?" Dawson murmured, and stared hard at the English youth. "Sure you feel all right, Freddy?"
"Never felt better," the other replied. "Wait just a moment, will you, old thing? I'll be right back."
Before Dawson could ask questions, Freddy got up from his chair and walked quickly across the dining room and down the broad flight of carpeted steps to the lobby. Dawson blinked, then took a sip of water, and glanced over at the man in gray. The mysterious stranger was looking toward the lobby, and was in the act of pushing himself up out of his chair. He seemed to change his mind, however. He shot a quick look over Dawson's way, then settled back in his chair and went to work on a piece of pie the waiter had placed in front of him.
"That bird sure is plenty interested in Freddy," Dawson muttered to himself, and frowned. "I wonder what the heck's cooking around here, anyway?"
He played with that thought for two or three minutes, but was unable to get any place. And then as he happened to glance toward the dining-room lobby entrance, he saw Freddy Farmer standing there and beckoning to him urgently. Dawson raised questioning eyebrows, took a look toward the man in gray, got up from his chair, and started to leave the table. He had taken but two steps when the waiter appeared at his elbow.
"The check, Captain," the waiter said politely.
"Oh, yeah," Dawson murmured absently, and glanced at the total. He pulled some money from his pocket and gave it to the waiter. "There you are," he murmured again, and hurried over to the lobby entrance to the dining room where Freddy was waiting.