CHAPTER SIX

_When England Stood Alone!_

A thousand little demons romping through Dave Dawson's head with sharp pointed spears gradually dragged the Yank air ace back to consciousness. He opened his eyes, and then instantly closed them as the sun itself seemed to be perched on the end of his nose. He groaned and sucked air into his aching lungs.

"Steady, Dave, old fellow," he heard Freddy Farmer say. "You got bashed a good one that time. Anybody else's head would have been caved right in. But just take it easy. Everything's all right now."

"Yeah, everything's just dandy!" Dawson heard his own voice mutter. "What happened? Did I jump without my 'chute, or--Hold everything!"

Dawson choked out the rest, opened his eyes, and forced them to stay open until the so-called sun perched on his nose didn't bother him any more. It was then he found himself stretched out on one of the twin beds, with the ceiling light directly overhead. Freddy Farmer, whose uniform looked as if it had been passed through a meat chopper in a terrible hurry, was seated on the edge of the bed with a damp towel in his hands. Dawson started to sit up, but Freddy pushed him on the chest to force him back, and then put the damp towel across his forehead.

"Stay put, Dave," he said. "I guess you didn't hear me tell you to keep low."

"Sure I did," Dawson grunted as the cool towel on his forehead seemed to drive most of the little demons from his brain. "But some guy was keeping even lower, and he let me have it. But, look, I'm okay. I've got to sit up. That ceiling light is burning holes in my face. No, Freddy. I'm really okay. I'll feel better if I just sit up. Gosh, I wonder what that lug used, a sledge hammer?"

Despite Freddy Farmer's disapproving look, and his restraining gesture, Dawson sat up on the bed, and struggled silently for a moment until the room stopped going around. Then when he could see clearly he looked at his flying pal.

"Okay, what's the story?" he said. "And what bunch of cats did that clawing job on your uniform? Boy, you sure look like you'd been through something!"

"More than I could handle, blast it all!" Freddy Farmer said, as a red flush started up his neck. "I had just made my phone call to British Intelligence at the War Office when I saw that bathroom door move. I yelled and told whoever was there to come out, or I'd fire. Silly, of course, but the blasted words just popped off my tongue."

Young Farmer paused for a moment for breath. The redness was in his face by now.

"Of course, whoever it was didn't oblige," he continued bitterly. "I heard scraping noises beyond the door, and leaped over to it gun in hand, and all that sort of cinema hero stuff. I kicked open the door just in time to see some chap's hand disappear from the bathroom window sill. I pulled the door shut to cut off the light in here, and scrambled out the window myself. Nothing happened for a bit, and then I heard two voices whispering. Couldn't make out what they said, or in what language they were saying it. I leaped in that direction and bumped square into a blasted chimney. Then I heard running feet to my right. Rather than bother calling out I just gave a snap shot in the general direction. I hit one of them, because I heard a yelp of pain. And--"

"And that was just about the time I reached the roof," Dave Dawson said as Freddy ran out of breath. "One of them fired at me. Then you called out. And then, bingo! One of them must have circled around to my side somehow, and let me have it on the head. Then what?"

"Then the very unsatisfactory ending," Freddy Farmer said gloomily. "I heard them both at the rear of the roof. I went toward there as silently, and as fast as I could. I bumped into you. While I was trying to find out if you were dead, both of the blighters went down the fire escape and lost themselves. The only thing for me to do then was to get you back through the window and in here where I could have a look at you. And that took some doing. You weigh a ton, Dave. I sincerely recommend a strict diet. Lord, but you're heavy when you're unconscious."

But Dawson wasn't listening. He was scowling at his scratched and dirty hands, and at his own uniform that was almost as badly torn as Freddy's.

"I wonder who they were?" he presently said aloud. "You didn't get a look at either of them?"

"Only that one chap's hand," Freddy replied. "The rest was just moving shadows. It was my fault for making a mess of it, Dave. I shouldn't have let that chap get out the bathroom window. How--?"

The fuzzy note of the front door buzzer stopped the rest of Freddy Farmer's sentence. Both boys looked at each other, and then got up off the bed in a hurry.

"The guys from British Intelligence!" Dawson said, and headed for the living room door. "From the time it took them to get here, this joint must be up in Scotland!"

"Well, we'll soon know where it is, anyway, thank heaven!" Freddy Farmer breathed as he followed Dawson through the door into the living room. "I certainly--_oof!_"

Young Farmer's lungs were emptied of air as he plowed face first into Dawson, who had pulled up to an abrupt stop. With an effort Freddy held his balance and stared past Dawson.

"What--?" he began. Then, with a gasp, "I say, Dave, what did you do with them?"

"I didn't!" Dawson mumbled, and stared popeyed at the completely vacant living room. "I--They--I mean, one was dead, and the other two were trussed up for keeps. But they _aren't here_, Freddy! They've gone! Doggone it! That guy, Erich, was dead, I tell you. But he's upped and walked away. Away where?"

The door buzzer rang again, more insistently this time, but neither of the youths paid any attention to it. Like men struck dumb they gaped at the living room floor where the figures of three Nazis should have been, but where actually there were only some bloodstains to mark where they had once been.

"I think I'm going nuts!" Dave mumbled, and drew a hand across his forehead. "Stark raving nuts. Now you see it, and now you don't. I--Hey! The buzzer!"

With a yelp Dawson snapped out of his trance, raced to the foyer door, went through it and hurried to the front door and unlocked it. And just in time, too. A British colonel out in the hallway was just stepping back, service revolver in hand, preparatory to shooting out the lock. The officer lowered his gun the instant he saw Dawson, but his eyes widened at what he saw.

"What the devil's going on, Captain?" he demanded. "We traced a phone call from this apartment. We're British Intelligence."

The officer nodded to a captain and a lieutenant standing just behind him. Dawson swung the door open wider and stepped to one side.

"Yes, sir, I know," he said. "And plenty's happened. You'd better come in, sir."

"Quite," the colonel grunted, and walked into the foyer, followed by his two junior officers. "Where to now?"

"This way, sir," Dave said as he led the way toward the living room. "But I guess there's some explaining to do first."

Dawson was continuing talking, but decided not to and led the way into the living room. Marked relief showed on Freddy Farmer's face as he saw the snappy British uniforms. He stiffened and clicked his heels, but did not salute as he did not have his hat on. Then suddenly his dirtied face cracked in a glad and welcoming smile.

"_You_, sir!" he cried. "Did you take my call, sir? But it's so long, sir, that of course I wouldn't have recognized your voice."

"What's that?" the colonel said sharply. Then his jaw dropped and his face lighted up. He looked from Farmer to Dave Dawson, all smiles. "Well, bless me!" he cried. "It has been years and years, hasn't it? And what you've two done for the cause since then!"

As the colonel grasped Freddy Farmer's outstretched hand Dave looked at him in puzzled amazement. Then memory came rushing back in a hurry.

"Well, knock me for a--!" he gulped, and then checked himself. "Colonel Fraser, Chief of British Intelligence! Gee, sir, but it's good to see you. Why--why, it was way back in Forty that you sent us on that show at Antwerp, wasn't it?"

"Absolutely, Dawson!" the colonel said as he shook hands. "And a splendid job you two did. My word! Fancy meeting you two. I heard you were with the Yanks and going great guns. But let me introduce my officers. Captain Small and Lieutenant Faintor, I want you to meet two chaps who did an awful lot for England back in the dark days. Captains Farmer, and Dawson."

There was hand shaking all around, and then Colonel Fraser got right down to cases again.

"But what's all this?" he demanded, and waved a hand at their torn uniforms. "What happened? You said something on the wire about catching three Nazi agents, and needing help at once. We came hopping it across London, but the blasted blackout, and the detours, took time. Now, what's it all about?"

"That's the sad part of the story, sir," Dawson said, making a wry face. "But we'll give all of it to you that we can."

Some ten minutes later Dawson and Freddy Farmer had finished their combined word picture of their crazy adventure. Colonel Fraser and his two junior officers listened in wide-eyed silence. By the time the two U. S. Army Air Forces aces finished speaking a strange look had come into Colonel Fraser's eyes, and his face was noticeably paler and more strained than it had been when he arrived. He stared at them for a moment without speaking, then put out his hand to Dawson.

"Mind letting me see those papers you say you took from them?" he said.

"Sure, of course, sir," Dave replied, and fished them from his torn tunic pocket and handed them over.

Colonel Fraser spent a good five minutes going through them while the other four in the room waited with mounting impatience plainly stamped on their faces. Finally, Colonel Fraser stacked them all together and stuck the lot in his pocket.

"The rotters!" he said in a withering voice. "The dirty rotters. But that Herr Baron is a clever devil, blast his black heart. I'd give my crown and pips to lay that one low. And you had him right here all tied up? What rotten luck!"

"I could cut my throat for not making sure he was trussed up for keeps!" Dawson said bitterly. "But as a matter of fact I was so sure that he was there to stay put."

"Well, I feel even worse because I tied up the beggar," Freddy Farmer said. Then, with a little gesture of one hand, he added, "But I wonder?"

"Wonder what?" Colonel Fraser asked when the English youth didn't continue.

"I wonder if he did get loose by himself?" Freddy said with a frown. "After all, we know that there were two more of them on the roof. Perhaps there were others. Others who sneaked in here and freed the two live ones, and helped cart the dead one away."

"No soap on that, I'd say," Dawson said slowly. "I mean, I don't think they'd have lighted out without finishing us off first."

"No, I think you're wrong there, Dawson, old chap," Captain Small said with an apologetic side glance at his superior. "I don't think they bothered about you two because they knew the jig was up. I mean, you see, they knew that Farmer had phoned us, and that we were on the way. I fancy that their first thought was to get away from here as soon as possible."

"But why take the dead man?" Dave argued.

Captain Small shrugged and smiled.

"You have me there, old chap," he said. "But no doubt, it was so that we wouldn't be able to obtain positive identification of the beggar."

"But how they did it, and where they went, is really the important part," Freddy Farmer said with a frown. Then, looking at Colonel Fraser, he said, "If I may make a suggestion, sir, why not have this whole building searched? There's no telling what you might gather up."

"Ahead of you there, Farmer," the senior officer said. "I have men doing that very thing right now. They are going from floor to floor, and checking up on everybody. They'll be up here to report before long, I expect."

"Do you mind a direct question, sir?" Dawson suddenly asked him.

"Why, no, not at all. Fire away, Dawson."

"About this Karl Stoltz, and Paul von Heimmer, sir," Dave said. "Do you know if your department has ever heard of either of them?"

The colonel smiled broadly, and nodded.

"I've been waiting for that question," he said. "Yes. We know all about Herr Karl Stoltz and Herr Paul von Heimmer. They arrived in England about six months ago. By parachute from a German night reconnaissance plane. But they didn't get very far because we had been informed by one of our own agents in Germany of their coming. They were given a military trial, and shot. Unfortunately, though, we were unable to learn anything of the work they planned to do in England. However, it undoubtedly was to have something to do with the American Air Forces, because they were both dressed as captain pilots when we gathered them in."

Colonel Fraser paused, and a slow smile curled his lips.

"And you need not ask the next question," he said. "I'll answer it for you now. Stoltz and von Heimmer bore a very startling resemblance to you two. I can quite readily see how Herr Baron and his two henchmen mistook you for them."

There was a moment of stunned silence; then Dave burst out laughing and looked at Freddy Farmer.

"Well, what do you know!" he chuckled. "Here I've been palling around all these years with a guy who has a mug like a Nazi's. No wonder my best friends wouldn't tell me! And me worrying because I was afraid it was B.O.!"

"Very, very funny!" Freddy snapped, and then looked at Colonel Fraser. "Von Heimmer was rather a good-looking chap, wasn't he, sir? And Stoltz had a face like a jammed bomb bay door?"

The senior officer looked puzzled for a moment, and then raised both hands in protest, and shook his head.

"Now, none of that, Farmer!" he said with a laugh. "I can see that you two haven't changed much in that respect. Oh, no! I'm jolly well not going to let you drag me into this thing. Fact is, I've quite forgotten what either of them looked like. So don't either of you try to trap me into being on your side."

"Speaking seriously for a moment, sir," Dawson said, "what about this Herr Baron? You spoke as though you knew quite a bit about him, too."

"I know a lot about that cunning devil!" the colonel said as his face darkened. "But how much is truth, and how much is fiction, I must confess that I do not know. I do not even know what his real name is. No doubt it is one of the dozen or more that we have in his file at the office. But which one I don't know. However--"

The sound of the door buzzer interrupted the colonel. Everybody looked startled for an instant; then Colonel Fraser nodded at Captain Small.

"Haines, no doubt," he said. "Answer it, will you, Small?"

"Yes, sir," the captain said, and went out into the foyer.

He was back in a moment or two with a slightly disappointed frown on his face.

"It's Haines reporting, sir," he said to the colonel. "Save for this apartment the entire building is vacant. They forced entrance into all of them. Not so much as a stick of furniture, sir. They found a Daimler in the garage, and Haines has detailed a man to watch it. The rear door was open, and there's an alley that leads to the street in the next block. No doubt our little friends made their exit that way, and there was a car waiting."

"Of course," Colonel Fraser nodded gloomily. "Too late, again. But I'll lay that blighter by the heels some day soon. Very well, Small. Tell Haines to keep searching around. Might come across something that will help us. I think you'd better lend a hand. I'll be at the office if you want me."

"Very good, sir," Captain Small said, and went out again.

As the man closed the door behind him, Dawson glanced at his wrist watch, and started. The hands showed that the time was well after midnight.

"Migosh!" he gasped. "We've been here for hours. We'll never make that Kingston train, Freddy."

"Don't worry about the Kingston train," Colonel Fraser said, before Freddy Farmer could open his mouth. "I want you two with me for a spell. I'll phone your C.O. and explain. Right now we're going down to my office. There's a chap whom I want to hear your story. All right, let's be off, eh?"

Some five minutes later Dawson, Farmer, Lieutenant Faintor, and Colonel Fraser were out in front of the building on the sidewalk. Dawson looked back up at the place where death had whispered by so close, and then looked up and down the blacked out street in a half-hearted effort to determine what part of London they were in. He saw nothing but shadowy outlines and silhouettes that didn't tell him a thing.

"Just where is this place, sir?" he asked the colonel as Lieutenant Faintor slid in behind the wheel of a car at the curb.

"Out Golders Green way," the senior officer replied. "Get into the car, you two."

"Golders Green?" Freddy Farmer gasped as he climbed in back. "The start of the Midlands Road? Lord! They did give us a ride, didn't they?"

"Well, this night has spared me one thing, at least," Dave Dawson grunted, as he sank down on the leather cushion beside Freddy.

"What, I'd like to know?" the English-born air ace demanded.

Dawson looked at him and grinned in the blackout.

"I don't have to worry about explaining the jokes in that show to you now," he said gently.

Freddy Farmer didn't even comment. He simply kicked Dawson in the ankle as though it were accidental, but omitted an apology.