The tall German’s face got redder. He growled something and moved away. Stan figured he was going to report he had been spotted.
“Now, Swen,” Stan said, “we’re going to be friends, you and I.”
Swen looked scared. “Heil Hitler,” he said. “I am not to be your friend.”
“You won’t get hurt,” Stan said softly. “Just tell them everything I tell you when they question you tonight.”
“They will kill you,” Swen said in a low voice. “Herr Domber poisoned the other one. He will do the same to you.”
“Tell me about it quickly. They won’t be leaving us alone without a spotter very long,” Stan said.
“I do not know how it was done. I heard the Gestapo men laughing about it. The British flier thought he was going to get away. He fixed up his plane and had gasoline enough for much testing. But after he had it running and they learned what they wanted to know about it, he just fell over dead.”
“That is quicker than working it out by themselves. Not much, but a few days,” Stan said grimly.
At that moment the tall German who had been working at the next bench came running up. He was out of breath when he halted before Stan.
“I am to be your helper.” He turned upon Swen. “Get out into the shop.”