bills to the hockey tickets and walked away. The two soldiers gaped down at the two tickets and the two dollars.

"What's the matter with that guy; is he touched?" one of them mumbled. "And did you hear him, Fuzzy? He didn't even speak English!"

"Who cares?" Fuzzy asked as he came out of his trance. "Two four-buck-forty hockey tickets, and two bucks in cash! Who cares if the guy is touched? He's okay by me!"

"Well, well!" Dawson chuckled when Freddy joined him. "Darned if the kid didn't at that! And even let go of two bucks."

"All I had on me," Freddy said with a smile. "So that makes you the one to pay for our meal, see?"

"Oh, yeah?" Dawson jeered. "Well, don't look right now, but standing in your shoes is a guy who's heading for a lot of dish washing in the Biltmore kitchen!"

CHAPTER TWO

Just in Case

"Well?" Freddy Farmer demanded as he leaned across the dining table toward Dawson. "Did I have a pipe dream, or not? Did you see who just came in and sat down?"

"Yeah," Dawson grunted, and buttered a roll. "Your pal in gray. I wonder what's the big idea?"

"So do I!" Freddy echoed instantly. "And I've half a mind to go over right now and ask him. The beggar is beginning to give me the creeps. He doesn't look foreign, though."

"Hey, come out of your spin, pal!" Dawson chuckled. "What do you think this is, Gestapo stuff?"

Freddy Farmer looked at Dawson and smiled slowly.

"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.

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."

With a grim nod Freddy Farmer stepped past Dawson and walked over toward the man in gray who was just leaving the dining room. Dawson impulsively swung around and followed him. The man in gray acted as though he did not see Freddy, but the English youth stopped in front of him, barring his way.

"Have you been wishing to speak to me, sir?" Freddy asked quietly. "Is that why you've been following me all over town all day?"

The man in gray looked blank for a moment. Then he shrugged and gave Freddy a friendly smile.

"It has been rather obvious, hasn't it, Captain Farmer?" he said as both Freddy and Dawson stared at him, dumbfounded. "But you went to a lot of places where I couldn't help but show myself. I guess you've had enough experience to guess when you're being trailed. The name is Carter, Captain."

As the man in gray introduced himself, he slipped something out of his pocket and held it cupped in his hand so both youths could see it. They took a good look at the gold F.B.I. badge and quickly raised their eyes to the man's face.

"The F.B.I. no less!" Dawson breathed. "What's up? Is Farmer wanted by the F.B.I.—I hope?"

The man chuckled and shook his head.

"No," he said. "Neither of you are, in fact. The two of us just had orders to keep an eye on you both."

"'Two of us'?" Dave echoed sharply. "You mean—" He let the rest go as the F.B.I. agent nodded.

"That's right, Captain Dawson," he said quietly, and made a faint gesture toward the other side of the lobby. "My partner has been looking after you, while I tried to keep up with Captain Farmer here. If Captain Farmer hadn't returned to the dining room, I'd have taken on the job of sticking with you, and my partner would have tackled Captain Farmer. Frankly, I would have enjoyed the change. But now—"

The F.B.I. agent grinned and shrugged.

"But now that the cat's out of the bag," he said, "suppose we stop playing cops and robbers and make it a foursome? My partner got tickets right behind your seats for the hockey game tonight. We're also staying at your hotel. Or would you rather be alone? Now don't be afraid that