The city was wide awake and getting up steam for a new day of war when Dave finally turned off the main waterfront drive into a winding, shadow-filled lane that was marked Rue Chartres. He paused at the corner and stared hard into the shadows, searching for Number Sixteen. His heart was pounding with excitement, and the blood was throbbing through his veins. Rue Chartres! The end of one trail, and the beginning of another—the air trail that led back to England!

The trip across the occupied city had been absolutely uneventful. He had met groups of Nazi soldiers and had not been stopped once. As a matter of fact, every soldier he met had saluted smartly as Dave walked by. Haughty-eyed, he had returned every salute but inwardly, he was nearly bursting with laughter. It had given him quite a kick at first to receive the salute of Hitler's troops, but after a while it had become tiresome. From that point on he had played the stiff-necked German officer to the limit. He had simply given passing soldiers a curt nod as a reply to their salutes.

That was all ancient history now. Here he was at last at Rue Chartres, and somewhere up that shadowy lane was Number Sixteen and Pierre Deschaud. He took a step forward and then hesitated again as the words of Freddy Farmer flashed by in memory. Was Pierre Deschaud still alive? It was for that reason that he stopped short and hesitated. Up that street lay the success or the failure of his dangerous mission, and for a moment he was almost too afraid to move forward and find out which it was.

Thought of the possibility that failure might be the answer seemed to hold him in an iron grip and refused to let him move his feet. Then suddenly a voice cried out harshly off to his right and along the main waterfront thoroughfare. He turned to see a German soldier leap out of a doorway and pounce upon a Belgian slinking past. The Belgian tried to break away, but the soldier tripped him up and then hit him with the barrel of his rifle as the figure fell to the ground.

In that split second the whole world seemed to explode inside Dave's head. A red film dropped down over his eyes, and his whole body trembled with berserk rage. The sprawled figure whom the German now covered with his rifle was none other than Freddy Farmer!

Dave's first impulse was to race forward and hurl himself at the soldier, but he managed to check the crazy urge in the nick of time. Though his heart was trying to crash right out through his ribs, he slowly turned and sauntered calmly up the street. As he walked along, he shot quick glances in all directions, and heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that there was nobody else about. He quickened his pace slightly and came to a stop a couple of feet from the soldier who was standing straddle-legged with his back to him.

"What's all this?" Dave demanded in harsh German.

The soldier jumped as though he had been stuck with a pin, and wheeled around. When he saw Dave's uniform he clicked his heels and saluted with his rifle, then quickly brought the gun to bear again on the prostrate Freddy Farmer.

"I have captured a missing prisoner, Herr Leutnant," the soldier said. "He escaped from the Central Detention Prison. All night long patrols have been searching the city."

Dave grunted and stared down at Freddy. The English youth opened his eyes. They stared blankly back at Dave for a moment, then swift recognition streaked through them. Dave frowned as Freddy unconsciously started to open his mouth. Quickly Freddy closed it and let a look of terror and fright spread across his dirty and sleepy-eyed face. Dave grunted again, and looked at the soldier.

"The Central Detention Prison, eh?" he growled. "Why did he escape? Who let him escape? There are guards there."

"That is true, Herr Leutnant," the soldier gulped. "But I had nothing to do with it. I am stationed at the western barracks. I was called out to help in the hunt. I do not know the details, Herr Leutnant, only that he escaped."

"So?" Dave snapped and fixed the soldier with a scornful eye. "So the first Belgian you meet, you decide he is the one, eh?"

The soldier swallowed hastily a couple of times, and a look of worry crept into his eyes.

"We were given a complete description, Herr Leutnant!" he said. "This boy wears the same clothes. I was sure that he was the one, the way he was slinking along. And I clubbed him to the sidewalk, Herr Leutnant, because he tried to run away from me."

"Yes, that is true," Dave said gravely, and nodded his head. "I saw him try to run away. But these Belgian fools frighten easily, like rabbits. You, there! Get up on your feet! What is your name?"

As Dave barked the last, he glared down at Freddy. The English youth got tremblingly to his feet, clutching his cap between his fingers.

"My name is Henri Duval," Freddy said in hesitant French.

"So?" Dave growled. "And why did you try to escape? Did you want to be shot? Why did you try to escape, eh?"

Dave put a lot of emphasis into his words and looked hard at Freddy. The other R.A.F. pilot stared back blankly for a moment, then played up to Dave's lead.

"I did not escape from any place, Herr Leutnant," he said.

"You live here in Antwerp, of course?" Dave demanded, and made just the slightest sign of a nod with his head.

Freddy caught onto the tip instantly.

"But of course!" he cried. "I live on the other side of the city, on the Rue Troyes. I was on my way home when the soldier stopped me. I came down here early to see if I could buy a little fish. We have not much food at our house."

While Freddy talked, Dave had been watching the German soldier out of the corner of his eye. The man had scowled at first, but little by little a puzzled look had come into his eyes. By the time Freddy had finished, the soldier was wearing a worried look, and was obviously afraid he had made a mistake. Dave turned and gave him a hard stare.

"It looks like your prisoner who escaped has yet to be found," Dave said sternly.

"But perhaps he lies!" the soldier protested weakly. "Perhaps he does not live on Rue Troyes at all."

Dave could have hugged the German for saying those words. They played right into his hand.

"That is quite possible," he said. "Naturally I shall find out if he is lying. I will take him in my own car and go to his house. Give me your name, and the name of your company commander. If this boy tells the truth, we will forget about this little incident. If he has lied, and is the escaped prisoner, I will see that he is returned to the prison. And I shall also see that your Kommandant hears of the part you played in recapturing him."

The soldier hesitated a brief instant, but the fear that he might be wrong was too much for him. He didn't dare insist that he accompany this officer.

"Very well, Herr Leutnant," he said, and gave Dave his name, and the name of his commanding officer.

Dave nodded gravely, then repeated the names aloud to indicate that he was making sure he would not forget them. Then he took hold of Freddy's arm.

"Come along with me!" he said sharply. "My car is in the other block. We shall soon find out if you lied to us or not!"

"On my word of honor, I did not lie, Herr Leutnant!" Freddy whimpered, and let Dave pull him along.

As they walked along toward the next corner, it was all Dave could do to stop from looking back to see if the soldier was following. He checked the impulse to do so and walked stiff and straight, keeping a tight grip on Freddy's arm.

"You're breaking the blinking thing in two!" he heard Freddy whisper under his breath. "But God bless you, Dave Dawson! That was a jolly close shave."

"Think nothing of it, my little man," Dave shot out of the corner of his mouth. "Any time you get in a jam, just give me a buzz. I'll always be glad to help out a pal. Now, around this corner. Then hold it while I take a look to see if the boy friend is tagging along."

They wheeled around the corner and stopped dead. Dave flattened himself against the building wall and gingerly stuck one eye around the corner and looked back. The soldier had stopped looking after them, and was turning around to head off in the other direction. Dave let out the air in his lungs and turned to grin at Freddy.

"The boy friend is gone," he said. "Now, we've got to do something about you, pal. We've got to find some place where we can hide out for a spell."

"What do you mean, do something about me?" Freddy asked with a frown. "I—"

"Use your bean!" Dave reprimanded him, and plucked at Freddy's peasant clothes. "In that get-up you'd advertise yourself as much as though you had a brass band following you around. A peasant did escape, see? It was me. But we can't stand here and talk. We've got to duck in some place and get you fixed up some how. Darn! I wish I knew this section."

"Oh, you just want a place to hide, eh?" Freddy said in a voice of superior scorn. "Why didn't you say so? Come along. Follow me. And mind those big feet of yours!"

Dave opened his mouth to ask questions, but Freddy had started moving along the narrow street. He traveled half a block, then darted down into an alley still untouched by the light of dawn. It was so dark that Dave plowed straight into Freddy's back before he realized that his friend had stopped.

"Clumsy ox, I must say you are!" Freddy grunted, and then softened it with a chuckle. "Here, give me your hand. The going's a bit tricky from here on."

"Hey!" Dave whispered. "Where in—"

"Shut up!" Freddy whispered. "Everything's all right. I know what I'm doing."

Dave checked all other questions and grasped Freddy's hand in the dark. After some ten minutes of climbing over things, and climbing down the other side, and turning this way and that, Dave suddenly found himself in the bare room of a house. Freddy let go of his hand, closed the door through which they had entered, and made a little apologetic gesture with his hands.

"Sorry, sir, there's no furniture," he said. "But I only took the place night before last, you see. And I haven't had time to send a van for my furniture. Now, if you'll just try the floor, sir."

"Cut the comedy!" Dave said gruffly, and squatted down on the dusty floor. "How come, anyway? What happened to you? And what have you been doing? And how the dickens did you find this place?"

Freddy raised his hand for silence.

"If you'll just close that big mouth of yours, I'll explain," he said. "And though I don't think anybody can hear us here, as the whole place is deserted, let's not shout, anyway."

"You've got something there," Dave said in a much lower tone of voice. "My error. But, gee, it's good to see you again, Freddy! Boy, oh boy, I'll say it is!"

"Rather pleasant meeting you, too," Freddy said, but his ear to ear grin spoke far more than his tongue. "I can jolly well tell you I've been in a fine funk worrying about what could have happened to you. In prison, you say? Not that that isn't a good place for you sometimes. But what in the world happened to you?"

Dave started to ask for Freddy's story first, but he checked himself. He told of his experiences since the moment he had stepped out of the Wellington right up to the present time. He skipped some of the details, but gave a fairly complete account of his movements.

"And now, what about you?" he finished up. "You weren't stopped at all coming through that forbidden area they've got around the city? That sure was something I hadn't even guessed or dreamed about. A neat way to keep a check on people going in and out of the city by land, anyway."

"Typical of German thoroughness," Freddy said dryly. "It didn't even occur to me, either. Fortunately, though, I was luckier than you. I spotted one of the patrols before they spotted me. Besides, it was dark. I came down in a field about two miles from the outskirts of the city. I hid my stuff and started out at once. I slipped through the forbidden area under the cover of darkness. As I said, I spotted the roaming patrol first, and hid under some house steps until they had gone by. It was even more ticklish business getting over here to the waterfront. I fancy I must have ducked in to hide while patrols passed by a couple of hundred times at least. It was just after dawn when I reached the entrance to Rue Chartres."

"And?" Dave questioned eagerly as Freddy paused for breath. "Then what?"

"Then I did some heavy thinking, as you would say," Freddy said calmly. "Not knowing whether or not Number Sixteen was a trap, I decided to take a good look around. Then, too, I wanted to wait and team up with you before tackling the place. Well, I nosed around as much as I could. I walked past Number Sixteen several times, but you can't see anything through the windows or doors. I don't think they've been cleaned in years."

"But is anybody living there?" Dave asked. "Could you tell? Could you see anybody? Deschaud?"

"Yes, there's somebody there," Freddy nodded. "An old man who looks like Pierre Deschaud, and an old woman. I suppose she's his wife. I've seen them several times. Well, all day yesterday I nosed around as much as I dared. Several times, when you still failed to show up, I was almost tempted to go into Number Sixteen. I thought that perhaps you were already there, and that I had missed you somehow. But I didn't go in. There were quite a few troops about yesterday. They came across the river in boats and were streaming through this section of the city all day long. They were Bavarian troops, and there were thousands and thousands of them. I tell you, Dave, something important must be afoot for all those troops to be around. And they all had full war kit, too."

"Boy, my hat's off to you!" Dave grinned. "I get grabbed by the first Germans I meet, but you wander around among thousands of them! You're good, pal, you're good."

"Rot!" Freddy scoffed, but his face lighted up with pleasure. "I was just lucky enough to slip through the forbidden section at the start. Once you're inside the city, it isn't so hard."

"It's plenty hard, now, for guys in peasant clothes!" Dave said grimly. "But go on. Then what?"

"Well, I hung around close to Number Sixteen as much as I dared, but it was just no go trying to slip inside," Freddy said. "Then when they turned the light out last night, and probably went to bed, I gave it up. I came back here and decided that I'd go in there first thing this morning and take my chances. I was on my way there when that blasted beggar jumped on my neck. Man, was I glad when I opened my eyes to see your homely mug glaring down at me!"

"For that crack I should have walked away and left you to your fate!" Dave growled. Then, with a frown: "The old fellow looks like Pierre Deschaud, huh? Did you see anybody else go in there?"

"Not a soul," Freddy said. "And that's what makes me think that we may be in luck—I mean, that Pierre Deschaud is really alive. I didn't see a single German, or Belgian, so much as glance at the place. Anyway, we've got to take a chance, Dave. We've got to contact Deschaud as soon as we can. I'm worried about seeing all those troops yesterday. And maybe you didn't have the chance to notice, but I did. The harbor is filled with all kinds of barges and strange-looking boats."

"For the invasion!" Dave breathed. "Ten to one they've been making them here."

"That's my guess, too," Freddy nodded solemnly. "They could fill them with those troops, and tugs could take them down the river in no time at all. Of course, we may be all wrong. But I can tell you I'm more than a little worried. We've got to get in touch with Pierre Deschaud as soon as possible. Wait a minute."

Freddy suddenly got to his feet and went over to one of the windows. He peered out a moment, and then turned and beckoned to Dave to come over. Dave went over, and Freddy pointed a finger.

"See between those two buildings?" he said. "See the front of that little shop on the opposite side of that street? The one that has a window with a broken pane of glass?"

Dave pressed his face to the glass and stared in the direction Freddy pointed. He looked across some courts at the rear of the buildings on both blocks and down a short alley to the next street. On the opposite side of the street he could see the doorway, and a part of the front of a small shop that hadn't felt a paint brush in a long time. The windows were so dirty from the weather that he couldn't see inside. Some paper or a strip of canvas covered a space where the window glass was three quarters missing.

"Sure, I see it," he said.

"That's Number Sixteen Rue Chartres," Freddy said. "Another bit of luck for me. This place, I mean. When scrounging around early yesterday morning, I noticed that this place was all tumbled down, and not a soul living here. I decided to find a good place to hide in case I had to. Imagine how good I felt when I discovered that if I wished, I could sit here all day and keep an eye on Number Sixteen!"

"Luck, my eye!" Dave grinned, and patted Freddy on the back. "It was using the old bean, and you know it. I bet you'd already spotted that alley going off Rue Chartres and came around on this street to see what was what."

"Well, I was lucky to find this place like it is, anyway," Freddy said with a shrug. "And—Look, somebody has just put on a light over there! He keeps it burning all day long. An oil lamp, I fancy. With the windows that dirty, I fancy he jolly well has to have some sort of a light inside. He's up and about now, Dave! Shall we—"

"Nix!" Dave cut him off short. "Not we! Just me!"

"I say, Dave—!"

Dave grinned and put up both hands for silence.

"Keep your shirt on, Freddy!" he said. "You're still forgetting about those duds you're wearing. You might not get ten feet before they'd have you by the scruff of the neck. I'll go and—No!"

Freddy blinked and looked startled.

"What's the matter, Dave?" he asked.

Dave didn't answer right away. He scowled and went through the pockets of his uniform. Suddenly his face lighted up with a grin as he pulled out a German one mark piece.

"I guess I was getting a little selfish for a minute, Freddy," he said. "After all, we're in this thing together. Tell you what. We'll toss this coin. Heads you go, tails I go. This uniform will fit either of us."

"Wait a minute," Freddy cut in. "Perhaps we can find some other clothes for me, and then we can both go. I think the two of us should go together, Dave, in case there's trouble."

"Maybe you've got something there," Dave said with a frown. "But I don't know. Maybe it would be best the other way. If the two of us should get caught, that would be bad. The Nazis would darn well see that there wasn't any more escaping. Now, if just one of us goes, then the other fellow can watch from the window here. If something happens, he'll still be free. See what I mean? No, I really think it's bad dope for both of us to contact Deschaud the first time, don't you?"

Freddy pursed his lips in thoughtful silence for a moment, then nodded abruptly.

"Yes, you're right, Dave," he said. "I'll stay here and watch. If you get into trouble, I'll try and figure a way to get you out of it. No, no arguments, now. You found that uniform, and you're already dressed in it. Besides, you look and act just like a Nazi officer. You really do, Dave."

Dave scowled and gave him a searching look. Freddy grinned impishly.

"Oh, I do, do I?" Dave growled. Then, grinning himself: "Okay, Mr. Wise-cracker, I'll take a whirl at it, if you insist."