"Seven meals per day?" Freddy Farmer echoed, and looked puzzled.
Dawson nodded at the collection of empty dishes in front of where the English youth had been sitting.
"And if that lay-out didn't total up to eight full meals, then I don't know my groceries," he said. "So come along, before the head waiter hails a cop to haul you in for busting the law so soon!"
"Blast if I wouldn't stay here and wait for him," Freddy said with a long sigh, "if I only knew that the food in your American jails was as good as this!"
[CHAPTER NINE]
White TNT
After the blaze of lights, the countless intricate neon signs, and the thousand and one other things that made New York night life famous the world around, the dimout condition was a strange thing indeed to witness. Strange, and interesting, and so utterly unreal to a native Yank who had seen the city so many times before Hitler drew his bloody butcher's sword.
Yes, strange, and interesting, and quite unreal. But not to Dave Dawson. Nor to Freddy Farmer, for that matter. For the very simple reason that they were two youths with a great big absorbing problem on their minds. Rather, it was a great big question mark, that neither of them could begin to figure out. And so they could very easily have strolled through the streets of the New York World Fair and not paid much attention to what they saw.
And as they walked up Broadway, and over to Fifth Avenue, and on down around the Grand Central section, it was all Dawson could do to refrain from blurting out the one and obvious question in his mind. In short, what in thunderation was this second sealed envelope all about? Just as the first one had done, this second envelope was practically burning holes in his tunic pocket. It was the same overall size as the other one, but it was considerably fatter than the first. By fingering it he could guess that there were several folded sheets of paper inside. And stiff paper, too, he imagined. This second envelope didn't "give" so much with the movements of his body. Fact was, whenever he bent over quickly a corner of it would stick into his ribs.
And, as had happened once before, his thoughts were all on a certain sealed envelope in his inside tunic pocket when suddenly Colonel Welsh's voice broke right through his train of thought.