"Eh?" the English youth grunted, and shot Dave a hostile look. "Sound off, you say?"
Soo Wong Kai laughed softly and leaned toward Freddy.
"The American way of saying, throwing the bull, Captain Farmer," he said. "Or, as you English would have it, swinging the gate. In China we have an expression which, when translated, means, counting the locusts. There are billions and billions of locusts in China, you see. So to say that one is counting the locusts is to mean that one is simply talking to hear oneself. Or sounding off. Or throwing the bull. Or swinging the gate. You see?"
"I've got a hunch you've kind of been around here and there, eh, Mr. Kai?" Dave grinned at him. "And—oh, my gosh! Pardon me, sir!"
The Chinese looked at Dave and raised his thin brows in innocent puzzlement.
"For what, may I ask, Captain Dawson?" he said. "For what reason should you exclaim and ask my pardon? I fear I do not quite understand."
Dawson swallowed, and licked his lower lip quickly.
"I suddenly remembered seeing your picture in the London Times, and reading about you, sir," Dave presently said. "You're Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek's new Minister of War, aren't you? And the head of the Military Mission that recently arrived in England?"
"That's true." The Chinese nodded and smiled. "But I still fail to see why you must beg my pardon."
"Well, for being sort of flip with my talk, sir," Dave said. "You're a high government official, and—well, after all—"