"Oh, no, Jim. Thanks a lot, but—you got to stick. This ain't no time f'r individjuls to fuss an' argue. We got a war to win, an' wherever a man's needed he's got to stay."
"But how about you, Hank?"
"I'll find somethin' else to do. When we're through eatin' I got to go back to the plant an' pick up whut belongs to me, then I'll mosey along."
I sighed.
"Well, all right, chum. If that's the way it is—"
That, he assured me, was the way it was. So we went back to the plant about 8:30 p.m. And that's where the final insult was added to injury. For after we had passed the gate a slim, forbidding figure stepped from the shadows to halt us with a challenge.
"Just a moment! Who goes there?"
I started, then I grinned impudently. It was friend Grimper, in person, and not an effigy. I said, "Just a brace of Nazi spies, pal. Don't shoot till you see the yellow down our backs."
The government man edged forward austerely.
"And what are you two doing back this time of night? Blakeson, you have no right to be here after six o'clock, and your friend has no right here at any hour!"