"Sahib Brant plenty smart to make this," Chahda intoned. "Poor native boy salutes mighty scientist!" He ducked Rick's return swing. Dr. Zircon had gone to his own suitcase. He returned with his pocket-size wire recorder and handed it to Chahda. "I brought this to record conversations in other languages. I think you might stimulate more interesting talk than we could, Chahda. It will record for an hour on a single spool." Chahda took the gadget and checked its operation. Rick was amused to see that the "poor native boy" figured it out in something less than a minute, and put it casually in his coat pocket. "We meet in Davao," Chahda said. He shook hands all around, then paused at the door. "Please, you good friends. I see you worry plenty. We find Tony and Dr. Shannon. You see." He opened the door and was gone. Rick breathed a sigh of relief. "I feel better," he stated. "Just seeing him again makes me feel good." "I agree," Zircon said, "and so does Scotty. Now, we will do a little sight-seeing. I haven't been in downtown Manila for twenty years. We'll only worry and fret if we stay in this hotel room, so let's go." The three taxied through the old walled city, then across the Pasig River and into Manila proper. They inspected the Escolta, principal street in the shopping area, then headed for Quiapo Square to see the great cathedral and the shops. Traffic was heavy, so they paid the taxi driver and got out and walked. As they crossed a pedestrian overpass by the cathedral, Scotty said quietly, "In case you were feeling neglected, you can stop. We're being tailed." Rick and Zircon were too experienced to pause or show interest. Scotty added, "There's quite a mob on the sidewalk once we get down from this bridge. Push right into it. I'll drop out and intercept him. If we're being tailed, we want to know why." The plan was executed smoothly. Rick was never sure when Scotty melted into a convenient doorway. After a moment he stopped and looked around. He was in time to see Scotty step from the doorway and confront a small, poorly dressed man who wore a red fez. Rick and Zircon were at Scotty's side in an instant. The man in the red fez reached for a pocket, and Rick tensed to swing if necessary. But the man only drew out a cardboard pillbox. "Plenty bargain for Americans," he announced. "Me Moro from Sulu. My cousin best pearl diver in Jolo. He get real pearl, I sell. You look." He opened the pillbox. Rick saw a half dozen pearls of assorted sizes. "We're not interested," Zircon said flatly. "Sorry. Come on, boys." They walked away, leaving the Moro staring after them. Zircon chuckled. "A common thing, as I recall it. I also seem to remember that most of the pearl-selling Moros in Manila are not genuine. They're Visayans from Cebu trying to sell phony pearls to tourists." "But he was trailing us," Scotty insisted.