I've never heard of it. Otherwise, Chahda
wouldn't have known about it."

"Unless it was a place Bradley had told him about," Scotty said.

"That's possible. At any rate, we've nothing to lose by separating for a
while. I'll go see the consul and find out what he knows. You two start
asking questions and I'll meet you in an hour right here ... no, better
still, since we'll want to eat here, I'll meet you in front of
Whiteaway-Laidlaw's Department Store. It's only a few blocks from here
and there's a good restaurant close by."

Rick's memory rang a bell. "Isn't Whiteaway-Laidlaw in Bombay?"

"Yes. But it's also here, and in most major English cities in the Far
East." The big scientist smiled. "I picked it because I was sure you'd
remember the name. I wasn't so sure you'd remember Huan Yuan See's
Restaurant."

"You were right," Scotty replied with a grin. "Well, let's get going. I
see a bank across the street. We can get our money changed there."

It took only a few moments to exchange some of their American currency
for Hong Kong dollars. The boys folded the bills, which like all English
paper money were bigger than American bills, and tucked them into their
wallets. Zircon started for the consulate with a wave of the hand and a
reminder that they would get together in an hour.

"Now what?" Scotty asked.

"Now we start asking questions," Rick told him. They had paused at the
entrance to the bank and the guard was standing near by. His turban and
neatly curled beard proclaimed him to be a Sikh, a member of the warrior
Indian caste that is scattered throughout the Far East.

"We're looking for something called the Golden Mouse," Rick said. "Can
you tell us where it is?"

The Sikh considered. Then he shook his head. "Not know of that one, sir.
Not hear."

"Maybe one of the bank officers would know," Scotty suggested. They
stepped back inside the bank and approached a thin young Britisher who
wore tweeds in spite of the heat of the day.

Rick put the question to him. The Englishman looked blank. "Golden
Mouse, you say? Dashed if I ever heard of it. Is it supposed to be a
tourist place do you know?"

"We don't know," Rick answered. "We've no idea."

The young man's face expanded in a pleased smile. "Don't suppose you'd
consider substituting a pink rabbit? We have a restaurant of that name.
Haw!"

Rick hid a grin. "Very kind of you," he said. "I'm afraid my friend and
I are allergic to rabbit fur."

With