The German made a movement with his hand as though brushing the words to one side.
"Enough of that!" he said. "This is a serious business. I am not saying that you collected the information about our advance units I find here on this map. Perhaps you were only taking it to somebody else. Yes, perhaps you did not even know you were being used for such work. Let us say that is the truth. We Germans do not make war with boys, but.... But this information was found on you, and that is most serious. Answer the questions I ask you, and I promise that you will not be treated as spies. I also promise you that you will be made comfortable until arrangements can be made to send you home. Now!"
"What are the questions?" Freddy asked.
The stern look fled the German's face, and he smiled.
"Ah, that is better!" he said and spread the map on the desk. "Now, here you have marked a line showing the route you traveled from Paris. Each town you passed through is marked. Those towns are French troop and equipment garrisons. This town here, close to the Belgian border, what did you see there? French troops? British troops? And what was their equipment? Tanks? Big ones, or small ones? Were there motorized anti-aircraft batteries? Were...?"
The German suddenly stopped and looked up from the map.
"You are not listening?" he said softly.
Freddy's face seemed actually to grow thin as Dave looked at him. The English boy licked his lips just once and then put his shoulders back a little more.
"Certainly I'm listening," he said. "But I won't answer a single one of your questions even though you do shoot me!"
Dave felt like throwing his arms about young Farmer and hugging him. Here was the kind of cool, calm courage for which the British were famous the world over. Instead, Dave turned his head and looked at the German.