At almost the exact moment the Lockheed Hudson bomber cleared the runway at Croydon Airport, and went nosing up into the night-shrouded sky, a man entered the lobby door of a certain hotel in the West End section of London, and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. There he got off, turned to the right, and walked along the corridor until he reached the sixth door on the left. He faced it, and hesitated a moment while he shot a sharp piercing glance back along the corridor. Satisfied that he was alone, he reached out a bony forefinger and stabbed the hotel suite button four times in rapid succession.

Thirty seconds ticked by, and then the door was opened a scant inch. There was no light to be seen through the door opening, only pitch darkness. And then a voice inside grunted, and the door was swung open wider.

"Come in quickly, please!" a soft, hissing voice commanded out of the darkness.

The man passed through into the darkness, and moved a little to the side so that the door could be closed. He heard the latch click. And then at a second click light flooded the suite sitting-room in which he stood. He turned his head and met the eyes of the man who had opened the door. He smiled coldly, and the corners of his mouth were a little drawn and tight.

"You are nervous tonight, Herr Kyoto?" he muttered thickly.

The one addressed as Herr Kyoto smiled broadly, but only with his lips.

"It is better to be nervous than to be a fool, my friend," he said in his soft hissing voice. "A fool dies soon. And a dead fool is of no use to his country, be he Japanese or German. You agree, yes?"

The man who had entered the hotel suite shrugged his massive shoulders, slipped out of his heavy coat and threw it over a chair as he let his big frame drop into another one.

"Perhaps yes, and perhaps no," he grunted, and watched the other glide across the rug and settle like a butterfly in a chair that would comfortably have held three of his half-pint size. "I cannot speak for you Japanese, only for Nazis. And a man who can be a fool cannot be a Nazi. At least, he can merely be one in name only. But I speak just words. You may have a reason for your seeming nervousness? It is possible that you are not so safe in London as you would like to believe, eh?"

The Japanese smiled again, and once again it was only with his lips. His eyes were still like those of a cobra on ice. He reached out his thin right hand and rubbed the ball of his thumb back and forth across the ends of his other four fingers.

"During my stay of twelve years here in England, my true German friend," he said, "I have spent much money so that all would be well when the day arrived. My money, my lips, and my hands have done all that was necessary to prove that I am Japanese only by birth. It is known, and believed, by all those of importance in England that instant death awaits me should I ever return to Japan. That is as I wished, and planned it to be. True, yes, I am often stopped on the street. I am often politely conducted to the nearest police station by some fool English official. But my papers are all in order. They have been so for years. And so it is always an apology and my continued freedom in less than five minutes. However, perhaps being nervous yourself causes you to think that I am? Perhaps that is what you mean?"

The German's face became hard and brutal. He thrust out his right arm to its full length, with his fingers extended.

"So!" he said harshly. "You don't see any trembling or quivering of the fingers, do you? No, and naturally so. I have no time to be nervous—about anything. I have time only to serve Der Fuehrer, and the Fatherland."

"As in like manner I serve my Heaven-born Emperor, and Japan!" the half-pint breathed out. "However, you and I need have no worry about the other. Nor was this meeting arranged so that we might discuss such impossible things. It was arranged for you to make a report to me, yes? And you have a report to make, please?"

The Nazi lowered his head for a moment, and a look of angry contempt glowed in his eyes. However, when he raised his head again his twinkling eyes matched the smile on his lips.

"Yes, and a most interesting report, Herr Kyoto," he said. Then, after a quick glance at his wrist watch, he went on, "At this moment the airplane is in the air and flying westward. They are both aboard. And one of them must carry the document that was delivered to the commandant of the Croydon Airport. My agent also told me over the telephone that this commandant walked out to the airplane with them. He saw the commandant hand something to one of them, to the one named Dawson, so he believes. But because of the distance, and the bad light, my agent could not tell which of them received what the commandant gave. However, that is unimportant. We know, now, that one of them carries a certain document."

"It would seem so, yes, Herr Miller," the Jap murmured, and gave a short nod of his head. "Forgive me, please, but we do not know if this be truth. Your agent saw something change hands, but he did not see what changed hands."

"Perhaps I should have instructed him to run out to them and ask?" the Nazi sneered.

"It would have been foolish to do so," Kyoto replied, as though the remark had sailed right over his head. "But I was only pointing out a possibility, my friend. Like you, I am sure that the one called Dawson, or the one called Farmer, carries the document. Had they not dined with Soo Wong Kai I would wonder. But they did, and so I do not wonder."

The Japanese emphasized his words with a faint nod of his billiard ball-shaped head. And for a moment or two the suite sitting-room was filled with silence. Presently, though, the little brown rat of the Rising Sun made chuckling sounds in his throat, and gave a little twist of his head.

"These enemies we must fight and crush are strange people, indeed!" he grunted. "They let two mere children, two young boys, perform a task that belongs to grown men. It is difficult not to laugh in their faces when I hear of them doing such things. No wonder they prove so weak, and so stupid!"

"And lucky!" the German echoed savagely. "Those two, I mean. I had two brothers, two of our greatest aces. This Dawson, and this Farmer, shot them down. One over France. The other in Libya. It was over a year ago. My brothers were killed. That American and that English swine have probably forgotten all about those two air battles. They probably do not know to this day the names of those they killed. But I know of them. And I will never forget. It will be the greatest joy of my life to let them know the truth—just before I destroy them as they destroyed my two brothers."

"When all is accomplished, may that joy be yours threefold, my friend," the Japanese said softly. "But not until all is accomplished. Personal desires must wait. There is something else a thousand times more important. You agree with me, of course?"

The Nazi's face tightened, and he locked eyes with the Japanese. Being of the "Master Race," he was filled with the sudden animal urge to curl his thick fingers about the little brown man's neck and snap it as one might snap a toothpick. His sense of treacherous cunning refused to permit him the joy of doing that, however. These monkey men of the Far East were of some use to Der Fuehrer in carrying out his great and wonderful plan for the world. So it was better to soothe and salve them along until they, too, should be made slaves to serve the Fatherland.

And so Herr Miller presently relaxed, smiled and nodded his bullet-shaped head.

"But of course, Herr Kyoto!" he exclaimed. "You need not have any fears. We Germans win the battle first, and enjoy ourselves afterward. No, have no fear. A certain document will never reach Washington D. C. That is my promise. With my own hands I will turn it over to you. Der Fuehrer himself has so ordered. Nothing, then, shall stop me from obeying that order."

The Japanese nodded politely, but a glint of worry came into his slanted brown eyes.

"Yes, the true soldier always obeys," he purred. "But, speaking of the little arrangement just between us two, the money is even now waiting for the moment when you place that document in my hands. No one else will know. However, I do not think that it can be earned with words, words that we speak to each other here and now. There is an airplane carrying that document westward at this moment—while you are here, honoring me with your company. Time is short, and the distance from you to that airplane grows longer and longer. But then, it may be that you are a master of magic, yes?"

Herr Miller laughed, and there was both amusement and scorn in the tone.

"So you are the nervous one, eh?" he echoed. "You worry that I let those two little swine and their precious document slip through my fingers? Ah! I am afraid that you do not truly understand us Nazis, Herr Kyoto. We plan for everything. We make sure that there will be no failure, even before we start. Mein Gott! You have only to look at all that we have accomplished in two short years to believe for the truth what I say. Yes, time grows short, and the distance grows longer. But that matters little to me."

The German paused to puff out his chest, and set his jaw at an arrogant angle. These stupid little brown men of the Far East! What swine to think they could suggest things to Germans! But aloud, he said:

"In a few moments I will leave you, Herr Kyoto. I will go to a certain spot not many miles from here. Yes! Close to the shadow of London itself. A German plane and a German pilot will be waiting for me. He will take me far out to sea. The plane is very fast; so much faster than this airplane that has the document aboard. Also, certain of our U-boats well posted about the North Atlantic are keeping track of that British airplane's journey. I will contact them by radio, and will meet the one nearest to that airplane's course. By parachute I will go down to the water's surface. The U-boat I select will pick me up. A short time later it will be light. Then we will go to the surface and watch for this aircraft. And when we sight this airplane?"

The German paused again, rubbed his hands together, and shook with silent laughter.

"Then, Herr Kyoto," he continued, "will be the beginning of a most enjoyable little experience. And by the following day, at the latest, you can expect me here in this room—with your precious document! It will all be so very simple."

As the Nazi finished the Japanese rose from his chair, clasped his two hands in front of him and bowed low from the waist.

"I salute you and bid you good fortune, Herr Miller," he said in his soft hissing tone. "I will await with joy and confidence for your return. When the document of which we speak is in my hands, it will be the same as the winning of a score of major battles. May good fortune go with you, and the deep joy of your personal revenge be yours after you have accomplished the main part of your mission."

The Nazi smiled and turned toward the door, but there was a look of icy contempt in his eyes that the Japanese did not see. However, perhaps it was not necessary for the Japanese to see that look of cold contempt, for when the door had closed behind the Nazi the little brown rat from the Far East curled his lips back in a snarl, lifted one hand and sliced it edgewise through the air.

"When you return with the document," he hissed out in his native tongue, "then we shall see who is of the master race!"