"Why, yes, of course!" he exclaimed. "The night we met Soo Wong Kai, the Chinese Minister of War. That meeting certainly resulted in something, didn't it!"[1]
"Yeah, and how!" Dawson murmured. Then a shadow seemed to pass across his sun- and wind-bronzed face as he added, "Right now I'd like to be feeling as contented with things as I felt that night."
Freddy Farmer stopped a piece of muffin halfway to his mouth and looked at his flying mate and dearest pal in marked astonishment.
"You mean you don't?" he ejaculated. "Good grief, why not? Why, everything's much better for the United Nations now than it was then, and— say, Dave, old thing, what's up with you? Ever since we arrived you've acted like you were attending a blasted funeral, or something. Don't you feel all right?"
Dawson scowled, and then forced his lips to stretch into a smile.
"Sorry, kid, my error," he said. "I'm a heel to spoil your visit to London. Sure, I feel swell. It's—Oh, skip it, huh?"
"Not by half, I won't!" Freddy said quickly. "Tell it to Pater, old thing. Just what is bothering you?"
Dawson toyed with his fork for a moment before replying.
"I don't know," he said. Then, with a little shake of his head, he added quickly, "I mean, I don't know just how to put it in words. I've just got a funny hunch, that's all."
"Praise be, then!" Freddy Farmer breathed in relief. "For a moment I thought it was something serious. Just another one of your hunches, eh? But pardon me for interrupting, my good man. What's the bad, bad hunch about this time?"