"We're not saying a thing!" he shouted. "I demand that we be permitted to see the nearest American Consul!"
The German officer ignored Dave's outburst as though he had not spoken. He looked steadily at Freddy for a moment and then sighed heavily and raised both hands in a gesture of despair.
"Very well," he said. "That is all for now. I will give you until tomorrow morning to think it over ... and change your mind. Guard!"
The side door popped open and in popped the guard. Colonel Stohl pointed a finger.
"Take them back," he said, "and stand guard outside the door. If either of them attempts to escape ... shoot!"
The Colonel gave them an angry stare and a curt nod, and then busied himself with some papers on the desk. Two minutes later the boys were back in their prison room. The door was closed and bolted, and they could hear the boots of the guard pacing up and down the hallway outside. Freddy sat down on a cot and started to shiver violently. Dave went over to him instantly and put a friendly arm about his shoulders.
"Steady, Freddy!" he whispered. "We'll get out somehow. He was only bluffing. He wouldn't dare shoot us. I'll make him let me see the nearest American Consul. I'll ... I'll make him let me telephone the American Ambassador in Brussels."
"I hope you do for your sake, Dave," Freddy whispered. "But England is at war, and I'm an Englishman. And, Dave ... that map was mine. I used it and marked my route until it got too dark."
Fingers of ice clutched at Dave's heart and pressed hard. He sucked air sharply into his lungs.
"Holy smokes!" he breathed. "Then you did put down all that stuff he was talking about?"