The senior officer turned from the window and looked straight at him.
"You can, and I'll tell you," he said. "Each envelope contained the route the President's plane is to fly, the exact time schedule, and the codes to be used in case the aircraft runs into trouble, or danger, and all that sort of thing. In short, as I told you in Washington, the Nazis would give almost anything to get hold of one of those sealed envelopes. With that information in their possession, they could have delivered a terrible blow to the United Nations. Think of it! The death of the President and members of the American High Command! It would be like setting our war effort back to the day of Pearl Harbor!"
The horrible thought made Dawson shiver in spite of himself, and he thanked God that Freddy and he had destroyed their letters before von Steuben had smashed them both to the ground. The President's death would have been loss enough, but to have added the loss of the great leaders of our military, naval, and air forces would have been world shaking indeed.
"And now, sir?" Dawson asked after several moments of silence. "Now another plan is to be carried out?"
Colonel Welsh didn't answer for a moment. He stared down at his two hands folded on the edge of the little table, and the expression on his thin face seemed to show a reluctance to answer that question. Presently, though, he lifted his head and looked straight at the two youthful air aces.
"We are now headed for Casablanca," he began quietly. "With the extra tanks of fuel we have aboard, we can make it easily. If we reach Casablanca without any trouble, I will be as sure as a man can be that the enemy has not learned anything of the President's plan to fly there himself. If we don't—"
The Chief of all U. S. Intelligence let the rest trail off into thin air and made a little gesture with one hand. Dawson frowned and looked at him earnestly.
"I don't think I get what you mean, sir," he said slowly.
"And neither do I, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up.
For a moment the colonel held his lips pressed together in a thin, grim line, and a hard light glittered in his eyes.