"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?" "Okay, I can take it." Dave grinned at him. But the grin quickly faded. "Maybe it isn't a hunch," he said. "Maybe it's just me. But I'm wondering if Old Man Jinx isn't catching up to us, Freddy?" "Rubbish!" the British-born air ace snorted. "Positively ridiculous. Just because I had a little trouble with that Lightning, and brought it in for a terrible landing? Why--" "And my crate couldn't fly for beans!" Dawson interrupted. "Plus the fact that it took us years to finally get away from North Africa. Plus the fact that we almost cashed in our chips in that pea soup fog. Plus--Oh nuts! Don't pay any attention to me. I've just turned into a wet smack of late. Call me Old Woman Dawson, pal." "I'd call you a lot of things, only there are ladies at the next table!" Freddy Farmer said, and gave him the stern eye. "You're just wound up a bit, Dave. Relax, old thing. Lord knows that's what you've told me enough times. Look, I've got a surprise, Dave!" "Hold it!" Dawson cried, and raised both hands in protest. "If you think you're going to drag me halfway across London to see some weather-beaten joint where one of your famous kings stopped for tea and crumpets, you're--" "The Holborn!" Freddy stopped him. "It's a theatre, and there's a very funny show playing there. Part American cast, too. I got the tickets this afternoon without saying anything to you. Well, what about it? Shall we go, or just sit here and mope about your blasted hunches?" "Part American cast?" Dawson echoed. "Yes, but they don't spoil the show too much, I hear!" Freddy snapped at him. "Well, is it a go?" "On one condition," Dave said, and gave Farmer a very grave look. "And that is?" the English youth walked into the trap. "That you wait until it's over before you ask me to explain the jokes and tag lines!" Dawson said with a chuckle. Then quickly, "Now, now, little man! Food's scarce in England. Put down that plate!"