a perfectly straight face, Scotty added, "Haw!"

The young Englishman shook with laughter. "You know, that's really very
good," he said. "Allergic to rabbit fur! Very good! I'm sorry, fellows,
but I'm afraid I can't help locate your Golden Mouse. Why not try a
bobby?"

"Bobby sox or bobby pin?" Scotty asked.

The bank officer's eyebrows went up, then he smiled. "Oh, I see what you
mean. No, it's not a joke this time. Bobby is what we call policemen.
You know?"

"Thank you very much," Rick said.

"Not a bit. By the way, I can make a few inquiries of the chaps who have
been here for some time. They may know. If you have no luck, drop back."
He offered his hand. "My name is Keaton-Yeats. Ronald Keaton-Yeats."

Rick and Scotty offered their names in exchange. "We'll come back if we
can't locate it," Rick assured him.

Outside, Scotty laughed. "Haw!" he said.

Rick grinned. "That's the famous English sense of humor, I guess. He's a
good scout."

Scotty nodded his agreement. "Funny thing about these English. They do
things that seem silly to us, like wearing tweeds in bathing-suit
weather and cracking bad jokes. But when the chips are down, they can
fight like wildcats." Suddenly he pointed. "There's a policeman."

"Let's tackle him," Rick said, and led the way across the street.

The officer was evidently a lieutenant or something of the sort, because
he had impressive-looking shoulder tabs on his uniform. As they came up,
he was inspecting the papers of a small, hard-bitten character who wore
greasy dungarees and a cap black with grease and grime. Evidently the
papers were in order, for he handed them back and said curtly, "All
right, my man. But remember we'll have no doings from you or your like
in Hong Kong. If you're smart, you'll stick close to your ship."

The man muttered, "Aye aye, Orficer. That I will." He moved away.

The officer was a tall, erect man with a cropped, gray military
mustache. He saw the two boys and nodded. "Can I help you, lads?"

"Perhaps you can, sir," Rick said. "We're looking for something called
the Golden Mouse."

The officer's eyes narrowed. "Are you now?" he inquired. "And what would
you want with the Golden Mouse, if I may inquire?"

"We're to meet a friend there," Scotty said.

The tone of the officer's voice told Rick that something was wrong. He
asked, "Is something wrong with the Golden Mouse? We don't even know
what it is."

"A good thing for you not to know," th