He went on: "I can pick some men out of the crowd by the way they walk,
and others by their eyes. That fellow has it written all over him."

The red-headed man came nearer through the crowd. Because of the
warmth, he had stuffed his soft hat into a back pocket, and now the
light from a window shone steadily on his hair and made a fire of it, a
danger signal. He encountered the searching glances of the two officers
and answered with cold, measuring eyes, like the gaze of a prize
fighter who waits for a blow. The sergeant turned to his superior with
a grunt.

"You're right," he nodded.

"Trail him," said the captain, "and take a man with you. If that fellow
gets into trouble, you may need help."

He stepped into his automobile and the sergeant beckoned to a nearby
policeman.

"Akana," he said, "we have a man-sized job tonight. Are you feeling
fit?"

The Kanaka smiled without enthusiasm.

"The man of the red hair?"

The sergeant nodded, and Akana tightened his belt. He had eaten fish
baked in ti leaves that evening.

He suggested: "Morley has little to do. His beat is quiet. Shall I tell