Right after the Consolidated Catalina flying boat had settled on the surface of the mooring basin Dave went forward and explained their plan to Featherstone, though he didn't mention Steffins by name.

"So you and the crew go ashore, Featherstone," he finished up, "and Farmer and I will wait here a spell and then slip ashore: Just make believe that you are returning from a patrol, and sat down because you were running out of gas. I'll explain to Squadron Leader Hays when I see him."

"Right you are," the Catalina's captain said. Then after a moment's hesitation, "Sure there isn't something I can do to help catch the chap, wherever he is? I think I'd rather like to bash him one on the snoot, myself. I'm sure I would when I think of that torpedo that just missed us."

"Nix, nothing doing," Dave said with a grin. "If there's any slugging to be done Freddy and I will take care of it."

"And in tip-top order, too, I can tell you!" Freddy said over Dave's shoulder. "But thanks for everything you've done, Featherstone."

The Catalina's captain laughed.

"You've got that sentence the wrong way round, my lad," he said. "I'll remember you chaps in my prayers for the rest of my life. Well, we'll be off. Good luck, and if you do catch that murdering blighter, at least bash him one for me."

"A promise, pal," Dave assured him.

Dave and Freddy forced themselves to wait twenty minutes after Featherstone and his crew had gone ashore. That was as long as they could wait, however. Another minute of sticking there in the plane with countless thoughts, surmises, and speculations whirling around in their heads and they would have just naturally up and exploded. And so at the end of twenty minutes they sneaked ashore unseen and made their way to Squadron Leader Hays' office by a round about route. It was Dave who slid into the office first. But once he was inside he pulled up so short at what he saw that Freddy close at his heels banged right into him.

Automatically Dave regained his balance and continued to stare pop eyed at the officer seated behind the desk. It was the last man in the world he expected to see at that moment. In short, it was Air Marshal Manners.

"I say, you, sir?" Dave heard Freddy gasp behind him.

The Adastral House high ranker nodded, flashed them a quick smile of greeting and motioned with one hand.

"Come in, you two, and shut that door," he said. "I've been having a bad case of heart failure waiting for you. Isn't that 'Cat' boat out in the basin the one that picked you up? I didn't see you leave it with the pilot and crew. Fact is, I was just about to hunt them out and ask questions."

"We were on it, sir," Dave said, finding his voice. "But we stayed aboard as part of a plan. Look, sir, there's a Jerry spy here at this station. We know him by the name of Steffins. A few hours ago he took up a Fairey Swordfish, Number two-six-nine-seven. He shot us down, sir, and we have a hunch he returned here."

Dave stopped talking and his hopes sank as he saw Air Marshal Manners shake his head.

"No, he didn't," the Air Ministry official said. "That Swordfish plane was assigned to one Flight Lieutenant Barker who has been at this Base for the last six months. His mechanic told Squadron Leader Hays and myself that he was to take it up for testing this morning. The mechanic saw the plane take off and believed Barker was in the pit. Barker wasn't. Two hours ago they found Barker's body hidden in an old fuselage in the hangar. He had been stabbed through the heart. Murdered!"

Dave and Freddy stood there in stunned silence for a moment. Then the words fairly leaped off Dave's lips.

"And no replacement by the name of Steffins has joined this squadron today?" he asked.

"No one," Manners replied. "Nor has that Fairey Swordfish returned. It's long overdue right now, as regards fuel. So I think there's just one answer to that. After he shot you down he probably headed for the coast of occupied France. But enough of that for the moment. Sit down, you two, and tell me everything that happened. I know a little of it from a radio message the commander of the Tornado sent me. That's one of the reasons why I flew down here from London at once. And I can guess a little of the rest. However, I want to hear it all from you two. Go ahead, and don't leave out a single thing no matter how unimportant it may seem to you. Better start with the moment you left my office at Adastral House."

Some fifteen minutes later Dave and Freddy had given a detailed account of every minute of the time since they had left the Air Ministry in London. As ordered they didn't leave out a thing. They even related their own conversations, word for word as near as they could remember. Air Marshal Manners listened in silence right through to the end. He didn't interrupt once. He didn't even nod or make any kind of a gesture. He simply sat in the chair moving his steel blue eyes from one face to the other.

"And that's all of it, sir," Dave ended the narration for both of them. "There's probably a hundred other things we should have done. And maybe we made ... I mean, I made a mess of that meeting with Steffins on the train. Perhaps we should have made some kind of a report to you. But...."

"Take it easy, Dawson," Air Marshal Manners finally spoke up. "And you, too, Farmer. You two don't have to apologize for a single thing. Great guns, your attempt to crash that U-boat deserves the Victoria Cross in my opinion. No, you don't have to feel badly about a single thing. Fact is, I'm the one to blame for things going all wrong. At any rate I'm taking the blame. As for that Steffins meeting, it perhaps really didn't mean a thing. There's lots of lads who like to go around posing as officers. He may have been one of them. Then, too, he may have been Baron von Khole."

Both Dave and Freddy sat up straight in their chairs.

"Baron von Khole, sir?" Dave finally asked. "Is he a Nazi agent?"

Air Marshal Manners nodded and a look of smouldering anger came into his eyes.

"The best, and most deadly one in Hitler's pay," he said presently. "And a mystery man if there ever was one. What we know of the man you could write down on a piece of paper the size of a postage stamp. As a matter of fact, British Intelligence isn't even sure that von Khole is his right name. And nobody outside of a few in Germany so much as knows what he looks like. One of the reasons he has been so difficult to catch is his expert knowledge of make-up and disguise. He can make himself up to pass for a youth of seventeen or an old man of seventy. He speaks, reads, and writes a dozen different languages, and what he doesn't know about Hitler's method of waging unrestricted war isn't worth knowing."

Air Marshal Manners stopped talking and stared flint eyed off into space. There were a dozen questions hovering on Dave Dawson's lips, but he refrained from giving them voice. He sat with Freddy waiting patiently for the chief of the newly formed Emergency Command to continue.

"And unless I'm all wrong, and not even worth my salt to my country," the senior officer finally continued, "this Baron von Khole is behind all that has happened. I even fancy that he was the one who shot you down. He is an expert pilot and was in command of the Luftwaffe in the Polish campaign. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'd better go back to the beginning and start there."

The Air Marshal paused and lighted a cigarette.

"Shortly before I was put in charge of the Emergency Command," he said, "they had a bit of a spy scare at Air Ministry. As a matter of fact it was quite serious. Plans for two new types of plane were stolen, and also the plans for a new aerial machine gun. In addition to that, considerable information as to R.A.F. operations in England and in the Middle East got into the hands of the Germans. In other words it was discovered that there was a mighty big leak at Air Ministry. Well, to make the story short, British Air and Army Intelligence got to work like beavers. Wires were tapped, every bit of incoming and outgoing mail was censored, and everybody from the Chief Air Marshal down was watched like a hawk day and night. The result was positive proof and the arrest of three German agents actually in the Royal Air Force and assigned to duty at Air Ministry. They were tried and shot in short order."

Air Marshal Manners emphasized the last with a curt nod, and then puffed on his cigarette for a moment or two before continuing.

"Of course the activities of this mysterious Baron von Khole were well known to us long before this last round-up of agents," he went on. "Facts and what-not showed that he was the supreme head of all Nazi agents in England. It was also quite evident that since Dunkirk he and his gang had been concentrating on the Royal Air Force. Let me say right here that most of our airplane crashes in England during the last year were not accidents due to the fault of the pilots or the planes. They were due to deliberate acts of sabotage. And, of course, all on the order of this Baron von Khole.

"Well, when the Nazi agents working in Air Ministry were caught Intelligence gained information which it was believed would lead them directly to von Khole. It did, but in a round about way, and too late!"

"Too late, sir?" Freddy Farmer encouraged as the senior officer paused again.

"It is incredible, but the truth!" Air Marshal Manners continued as though he hadn't stopped. "There was a fourth spy serving as a Personnel Sergeant at Air Ministry. Intelligence didn't catch him in their round-up of the other three. And yesterday we gained definite knowledge that he was, and still is, Baron von Khole. Now, wait a minute before you ask questions. He was known as Sergeant Kinney, but there used to be a real Sergeant Kinney. The real Sergeant Kinney had been in the service for years. He lived alone in a flat out Golder's Green way, and had very few friends. Naturally, we'll never know the real truth until we catch von Khole and he tells us, which he probably never would. However, several months ago von Khole, probably after studying Kinney's mode of life, his way of doing things, and a million and one things about him, murdered him and took his place at Air Ministry. And he has been there ever since working side by side with the whole lot of us. But working for Hitler instead of for the King!"

"Boy, what a smooth artist he must be!" Dave breathed. "And even if he is a Nazi he's sure got plenty of nerve and courage."

"Plenty of both, and a whole lot of other things," Air Marshal Manners said grimly. "Much as we'd like to believe it, all Germans are not nitwits like their Fuehrer, Goering, and a couple of others of the inner circle. No, von Khole is clever, a genius in his work. Fact is, the only bad thing I can say about the man is that he is a cold blooded, ruthless murderer. That is perhaps the only thing he has in common with his superiors."

The Air Ministry official made a little gesture with one hand as though dismissing the subject and lighted a fresh cigarette.

"But I'm wandering in my story," he said. "Let's get back to facts. And they are not pleasant ones for me. A week ago I took on some extra clerical help on my staff. Sergeant Kinney was one of those sent to me. Yes, none other than Baron von Khole went to work in my office. How he did it still remains his secret, but he discovered everything pertaining to the new Emergency Command. The very fact that you had your little adventure today proves that he knew the contents of your sealed orders before they even left my office. He must have learned their contents yesterday. Last night my private secretary ... a man I've known all my life, and whom I would trust with my own life ... was murdered in my office. An hour later Intelligence came in to arrest Sergeant Kinney. A tip had led them to his house. There they had found code books and a dozen other things used by Nazi agents."

"But they didn't get Kinney, or this von Khole who posed as Kinney?" Freddy Farmer asked.

Air Marshal Manners made a wiggling motion with his hand like an eel scurrying away.

"Not that slippery one!" he said harshly. "As usual, he was a couple of jumps ahead of us. My sealed orders had already gone out, so I didn't do anything about checking or stopping them. I simply took the chance that everything was all right. As we three know, now, everything wasn't all right regarding your secret assignment! My not countermanding those orders nearly cost the lives of two of the bravest R.A.F. pilots I ever had the good fortune to meet. And so, as I said, I alone am taking all the blame for things going wrong today. It was nobody else's fault but my own."

"And to think I had him square in my gun sights!" Dave murmured softly. "But, tell me this, sir. Was Sergeant Kinney on duty the night you talked to all of us? Or the next day?"

The Air Marshal looked thoughtful for a moment, then sat up straight with a jerk.

"By the gods, no!" he cried. "He was on thirty hours leave. And I know what's in back of your question, Dawson. That chap, Steffins! By George, I guess that Steffins was von Khole."

"But you said he had courage!" Freddy protested. "And Steffins was scared pink when that Jerry plane strafed the train."

"I'm wondering," Dave grunted.

"About what?" Freddy demanded. "Good grief, you think that was part of an act, too? But why?"

"This may be crazy reasoning," Dave said slowly. "But somehow it makes sense to me. He tried to pump us, and didn't learn a thing. I think he knew that we weren't telling him the truth. Maybe that made him a little suspicious of us. So maybe he pulled that yellow belly stunt so that we wouldn't bother about looking him up at the squadron, here. Or when we didn't see him again we'd just put it down that he was too yellow to carry on, and we'd just forget about him. And yet there's another angle that just occurred to me. Maybe just as screwy."

"Well, let's hear it anyway," Air Marshal Manners said as the Yank R.A.F. ace hesitated.

"That strafing plane," Dave said eventually. "It came down and seemed to blast away at the rear car of the train. Maybe it wasn't even aiming at it. Fact is, I forgot all about checking on that when we reached Plymouth. What I'm getting at is, why strafe just the rear car? Me, if I had a few slugs left to slap at a train, I start up at the engine and rake the whole works. That Focke-Wulf plane didn't. I'm wondering if its pilot knew that von Khole was on the train, and his strafing was some kind of a message that didn't please von Khole at all."

"Perhaps," Air Marshal Manners said gravely. "Perhaps either one of your ideas is the truth. It doesn't help us much, now. Nor does it help much being pretty sure that your friend Steffins was actually von Khole. That, like some other items, is all so much water under the bridge, now. We've taken our beatings and that's that. What we've got to concentrate on now is the future. Our next move in this game of death against the survival of England."

The Air Ministry official stopped talking and a tingling silence seemed to hover over the room. Dave and Freddy waited breathlessly for the senior officer to go on. Defeat was behind them, but it was not final defeat. They not only felt it, but they could see it in Manners' face. No, they were not yet washed-up with Emergency Command. They both knew that Manners had another assignment for them. Another tilt against the Nazis and death. And it was all they could do to refrain from breaking the silence and begging Manners to tell them of their new assignment. Finally Freddy Farmer just couldn't stand the suspense any longer. He cleared his throat nervously and spoke.

"We're ready for any job you want to give us, sir," he said. "And regardless of what happens, we'll do better next time."

"Check!" Dave echoed with feeling. "You can count on that, sir."

Air Marshal Manners smiled but before he could say anything the office door was pushed open and Squadron Leader Hays came inside. The Commanding Officer of Seventy-Four seemed not to see the two R.A.F. aces. He looked straight at Air Marshal Manners and gave a savage shake of his head.

"Couldn't unearth a single clue," he said, tight lipped. "I've questioned every mechanic and pilot here at the field, but not one of them remembers seeing Flight Lieutenant Barker after eight o'clock this morning. I looked in his hutment but not a thing has been touched. Honestly, sir, I can't understand it at all. Why should anybody kill Barker and then steal his plane? He was the best liked officer at the field."

"No clue, eh?" the Air Ministry official murmured. "Well, on my authorization you can order a special investigation. Call on Air Intelligence if you want to. We lose enough pilots in the air without having them murdered on the ground. Do everything you think necessary, Hays, and report to me the minute you discover anything important."

"Very good, sir, I'll do that," the Squadron Leader said. "I'll appoint an investigating board at once. And ... I say, where did you two come from?"

The Squadron Leader addressed the last to Dave and Freddy as he saw them for the first time. Dave opened his mouth to speak, but Air Marshal Manners beat him to the punch.

"They had no luck on their special mission," he said quietly. "Matter of fact they were forced down off shore and were luckily picked up by a Cat-Boat. I ordered their return here at once. They're flying up to London with me right away, and rejoining their old Fighter Squadron."

Squadron Leader Hays murmured something that might have been an expression of sympathy and regret, but Dave wasn't listening. The verbal bombshell that Air Marshal Manners had suddenly exploded was still scrambling his brains. Returning to their old Fighter Squadron? Then they really were all washed up with the Emergency Command? Though their failure had been through no fault of their own, Manners wasn't going to give them a second chance? Washed-up? Through? Finished?

Dave looked at Freddy and saw similar stunned grief in the English youth's eyes. He looked at Air Marshal Manners and hot blistering words rose to his lips. He was too good a soldier, however, to let them fly off. He choked them back, and spoke them instead with his eyes. Manners seemed completely blind to the look he received. He stared back at Dave, then made a short dismissal wave with one hand.

"There's a Staff Lockheed Hudson on the line I came down in," he said. "You and Farmer go out to it and wait. I'll be with you in a few minutes, and we'll be off. Oh yes, collect your personal belongings and put them aboard. That's all."

It was the hardest thing he ever did for Dave to get to his feet, click his heels and salute smartly. He wanted more than anything else right at the moment to jump over the desk and shout what was on his mind right square in the Air Marshal's face. Of course, though, he didn't even so much as make a move in that direction. Training and the instincts of a loyal soldier held him back.

"Very good, sir," he said.

Then he and Freddy did an about face and went outside with heads up and shoulders squared ... but with the whole wide world very much blurred before them. Never since their very first day in the R.A.F. had their hearts ached so much, or their spirits sunk so low.