"Oh no, not that!" the English youth said and shook his head vigorously. "I just penciled in the route I had taken until it got too dark. Besides, I lost my pencil when I tried to do it in the glow of the dash light. The rest of the things he must have marked in."
Dave gave a shake of his head and looked puzzled.
"I don't get it!" he murmured. "Why?"
"Don't you see?" Freddy said. "It's really very simple, Dave. They did it to frighten me, to make me answer their questions. They'll hold a military court and use that map as evidence. There'll be an awful row. They'll make one, hoping to scare me into talking. I knew a Jewish boy in England who escaped with his family from the German Gestapo and he told me about the tricks they play to scare you into telling them things. That's what he plans to do with me. But, I won't tell him a thing, not a thing! It's my map all right, but they're not going to frighten me into telling anything that would hurt the Allies. They can't make me!"
"You bet they can't, pal!" Dave said. "And they won't get anything out of me, either."
"I don't think he means any harm toward you, Dave," Freddy said after a long pause. "You just insist on seeing the American Consul and I think he'll let you. When you spoke of your father's trip to London he seemed surprised. You're an American, Dave. You'll be all right."
"But what about you, Freddy?" Dave exclaimed.
"I won't tell them a thing, no matter what they do," the English youth said determinedly. "Never!"
Dave started to speak, checked himself, and stepped back a pace.
"So that's the kind of a pal you are, huh?" he grunted. "You just up and let me down!"