One, two, three seconds ticked by as Dave kept his eyes locked with von Khole's. A conglomeration of expressions flitted across the man's face. Four, five, six seconds! Anger, wonder, suspicion, and scorn showed in the German's face. He made as though to move, checked himself, and remained where he was. Seven, eight, nine seconds!

And then Dave wanted to weep with rage. Von Khole smiled and shook his head.

"No, my little fools!" he said with a dry chuckle. "I am not as stupid as that. You would like to grab for this gun, eh, as I reached for the radio? Bah! I can see the desire in your faces. But that is not why I know you lie. You, my little Farmer! Your bluff was almost convincing. Perhaps it even would have convinced me if you had not made that slip of the tongue when you first saw that the raider was heading north. Ah, yes! You were about to say she was heading directly for the convoy, when you cut yourself off. Your radio? I shall have plenty of time to use it later. Right now it amuses me to see the misery and the defeat in your faces."

As the German stopped talking a strange sensation began to ripple through Dave. It was as though something were definitely wrong with the picture. It was as though von Khole were hesitating for some mysterious reason. As though he wanted to act but couldn't make up his mind whether to act or not. Dave knew that the Nazi intended to rid himself of them both. He was positive that von Khole had a bullet for each of them in that Luger held steady in his hand. Yet the man seemed in no hurry to shoot. Instead he was waiting. Why? Waiting for what? Dave stared hard at the Nazi's face but there was absolutely nothing there to give him an inkling of what was going on in the brain behind it.

Suddenly Dave thought of the two shots that had been fired in the dark back at the Lands End Base. Two shots that sounded as though they had come from a rifle fitted with a silencer. Had that been the case, or had shooting across water given him that impression? And, also, he and Freddy had found the hull door of the Catalina swung wide open. A split second later he was sure he knew the truth about that incident.

"You fired those shots at us from the mooring basin!" he blurted out. "You were already in this flying boat, and you fired from inside through the open hull door so that the flash would not be seen ashore!"

"Splendid, splendid!" von Khole cried. Then with an annoyed toss of his head, "And I am ashamed of myself. I am a perfect shot, but I was not last night. I missed you both completely. However, the darkness made accurate shooting impossible. Too bad I missed. It would have been quite a shock for your wonderful Air Marshal Manners to find you two dead, and this Catalina flying boat stolen anyway!"

"You certainly don't like that guy, do you?" Dave said to keep the Nazi talking.

"The swine has caused me much trouble!" von Khole bit off savagely. "But I will have plenty of time to deal with him when this little affair is finished."

As the German spoke the words his eyes left Dave's face for a brief instant and he shot a scowling glance at the radio panel. That glance made Dave's heart loop over. Was the radio the reason why von Khole was hesitating in pulling the Luger's trigger, and waiting? If so, why? Dave wracked his brain for an answer to that one, but there was none to be found.

"How the heck did you know we were going to use this Catalina?" he asked quickly as a sudden look of anger leaped into the Nazi's eyes. "And as far as that goes, how in thunder did you know we were at Lands End Base? Of course you were in that Messerschmitt that tried to trail us?"

"Yes, I was in that plane," von Khole said absently.

"But that was a Nazi plane!" Freddy exclaimed. "And.... Wait! I get it! You flew that Fairey Swordfish to occupied France and returned in a Messerschmitt to trail Air Marshal Manners down from London. You had got word he was heading for Plymouth?"

"Correct!" von Khole snapped. "I am informed of everything as soon as it happens. We intercepted your aircraft carrier's message to Manners saying that you two had been picked up. I decided to remove the real menace to my future plans, Air Marshal Manners! However, he reached Plymouth before I could meet him in the air. Too bad. However, there is tomorrow, and the next day, and lots of days after that. I have promised myself that Air Marshal Manners shall feel my bullets cutting into his swine hide. And I do not break, a promise to myself!"

"But I lost you cold as we were returning to London!" Dave said with a puzzled frown. "And, Mister, we darn near washed each other out in those clouds. Another foot the wrong way and it would have been curtains for the lot of us. Parachutes wouldn't have done any of us any good with those two ships smacking each other at that speed. But it wasn't until after that that Manners ordered me to head for Lands End. I said you maybe had cat's eyes, and you certainly must have had them then. Did you actually trail us to Lands End Base?"

The sudden beam of vanity that lighted up von Khole's face sent a warm glow of new hope surging through Dave. If he could only keep the Nazi talking for a little longer. If he only could! A wild, crazy plan had come into his head all of a sudden. There was just about one chance in six billion that he could carry it out successfully. But the odds against him didn't matter. It was a chance, and that was the all important thing. But he must keep von Khole talking on. Praise the dirty rat. Flatter him! Do anything just to keep him talking!

"No kidding?" Dave pressed his question in an awed tone. "Did you really and truly trail us down to Lands End Base?"

The German laughed softly and shook his head and gestured with his free hand, palm upward.

"No, because I didn't have to," he said. "I have brains, and so I simply used them. I realized that Manners must know I was in the Messerschmitt. I realized that he would of course change his course, and not head for London. Then where would he head? Back to Plymouth? No. Then where? It was obvious that he would head for another Coastal Command Base. That he would head in the opposite direction from London. And that would be? Toward Southampton, of course. So I flew in that direction, myself, and circled about until I saw your plane. And when I saw that you were heading west, the answer was simple. Where else but Lands End? So I went to Lands End, myself!"

"In a Nazi Messerschmitt?" Freddy Farmer gasped before he could check himself.

Von Khole gave him a reproachful look, and shook his head sadly from side to side.

"You stupid English!" he groaned. "You do not have the imagination of a fly. But of course not. I stayed in the clouds for a bit longer and worked back over land between Southampton and Lands End. Then I pointed my plane northward with the controls set for level flight, and jumped with my parachute. By the time I reached earth the Messerschmitt was many miles away. And a time bomb in it eventually blew it into a million pieces so that it would never be recognized for what it really was. Soldiers rushed me when I landed, but of course I carry identification papers that nobody would ever question. I told them that my plane had caught fire in the air and that I had been forced to jump. I even told them I was on a special courier mission, and...."

The German paused to laugh heartily.

"What stupid swine, the English!" he cried. "Be polite, be the gentleman, and they will believe anything you say. The soldiers took me to their commanding officer where I repeated my story. He believed me, also. And he actually loaned me his car in which to continue my journey. Himmel! After the war I shall write a book on the English. It will be the funniest thing ever written. Anyway, I abandoned the car just before I reached Lands End, and made the rest of the way on foot. The field guards saluted me as I walked past them, and that was all there was to it. And now...."

"Not quite all, von Khole," Dave spoke up quickly. "There's still the most mysterious part of it all that I can't figure. I mean, how in heck did you find out that Farmer and I were going to steal this plane? Or maybe you just watched us, and guessed, huh? That sure was a bit of smart guessing, is all I can say."

"Quite!" Freddy echoed. "It's almost unbelievable!"

The Nazi spy snorted in scorn.

"Guess?" he said sharply. "Of course not. I saw Manners talking to you on that strip of sandy beach. I simply listened to what he told you, and learned everything."

"You listened?" Dave cried. "Hey! Don't try to stuff that one down my throat. There wasn't anybody within two hundred yards of us. And don't say that Manners bellowed at us through a megaphone, because that's out, too. What do you mean, listened?"

"Not with my ears, with my eyes, my simple one!" the Nazi clipped at him. "For years I have been an expert lip reader. I hid in the shore grass a good quarter of a mile from where you sat, trained a powerful pair of binoculars on Manners' face and read every word he spoke to you. After that I simply watched you two every instant of the time. Himmel! It was child's play compared to lots of other tasks I have accomplished for my Fatherland."

"Well, I'll be cow-kicked!" Dave breathed in frank admiration. "Lip-read every word Air Marshal spoke! Boy oh boy! Did we have two strikes on us before we even got started!"

"What?" von Khole echoed with a puzzled frown. "Two strikes? You speak of labor trouble in the United States?"

"No," Dave said. Then with a grin, "Brooklyn Dodger trouble when Ernie White of the St. Louis Cards is pitching against them. But skip it. What happened to your face? Did you run into a door that wasn't shut?"

Baron von Khole scowled and impulsively reached up and touched his cut cheek with his free hand. It was not until then that Dave saw that the German had a beautiful goose egg on the left side of his head.

"I can thank you for that!" the German said sharply. "You and this cursed plane that bucks like a wild horse. About two hours after your take-off a movement of the plane hurled me out of my hiding place aft and I struck my head on one of the bracing girders, and a bolt end cut my cheek. But it is nothing."

A glimmer of truth suddenly flashed through Dave's brain.

"Yes, I remember that tough air pocket we smacked into," he said with an understanding nod. "It bounced Farmer and me around plenty, too. It was just before we sighted those signal lights of some craft down on the water."

The German seemed to look blank for the tiniest part of a split second. Then he nodded his head vigorously.

"Yes, it was shortly before then," he said. "But it's nothing. And now, my little boys, we have done enough talking, you and I. There is more for me to do, and unfortunately for you, you are in my way. I cannot waste any more time. What happens, must happen."

Dave looked blank, but his brain was clicking over at lightning like speed. The truth, and he was sure it was the truth, was as clear as high noon in his brain. Yes, he knew, now, why von Khole had hesitated using the Luger, and had waited, casting expectant glances at the radio every now and then. The reason was because the Nazi was worried. Worried about what messages Dave and Freddy had sent and received while Baron von Khole was out cold from the crack he received on his head. And the man had been knocked unconscious. Dave knew that for a certainty. He knew it, because he had lied about sighting signal lights from a boat below them. There hadn't been any signal lights! They hadn't even sighted a boat!

Yes, von Khole had delayed action because he was worried. Ten to one the man had only gained consciousness when the Catalina was climbing up out of the storm to make eye contact with the raider. He didn't know what had happened during the hours he was unconscious. He knew, of course, that radio contact had been made with the raider, but who else had Freddy contacted over the ether waves? British planes? British Navy ships? The Nazi didn't know. He had no way of knowing. So he had delayed and waited, hoping that the radio might start crackling, and he could snatch the phones from Freddy Farmer and perhaps gain an inkling of what had transpired during his unconscious hours.

However, the radio had remained silent, and the Nazi did not dare wait any longer. Whatever his next move was in his devilish game, he had to get on with it, and soon!

The blood began to pound at Dave's temples, and for one awful instant every muscle and nerve in his body seemed to turn into water. He wanted to look at Freddy, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Baron von Khole's face. Gone was the smirk, the scorn, and the look of delighted triumph from the German's face. It had become set, hard and cruel, and the light of a born killer glowed in his eyes. Dave knew that it was only a matter of split seconds. Perhaps not even that length of time. He tried to speak, but the horrible moment froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Then with desperate effort he tore his eyes from von Khole's face and shot a quick glance out the side compartment window.

"Planes coming!" he cried in a hoarse voice.

Von Khole stiffened and half turned his head. In that infinitesimal split second of time Dave Dawson staked his life, Freddy's life, and the success or complete failure of their mission, on a single lightning-like action. With every ounce of his strength he shoved forward the foot he had eased up to rest against the control column of the plane. The mighty effort rammed the column forward, and sent the craft lurching down by the nose. As a result the tail surged upward and the cat-walk practically fell away from under von Khole's feet.

The German half toppled over backwards and then seemed to rise right straight up in the air. A horrible curse of rage spilled from his lips, and the Luger in his hand barked three times. His backward movement however had tilted the gun barrel upward and all three bullets ripped harmlessly through the roof of the compartment. Then the German crashed the top of his head against the strong cross brace girder of the top section of the fuselage. Even above the howl of the engines Dave heard the sickening crunching sound. Baron von Khole's eyes went glassy. Then they closed shut, and he tumbled down on the cat-walk, limp and still as a wet dish rag.

"At him, Freddy!" Dave screamed and hurled himself backward out of his seat.