Dave plucked at his lower lip and screwed up his face in a gesture of deep thought.
"Comstadt?" he mumbled. "Comstadt? No. I can't say that I've heard of him. Who is he? Hitler's valet, or something?"
The German turned purple with rage, and for a second or two Dave feared that the man was actually going to explode in a shower of small pieces. It was a full minute before the Nazi seemed able to find his tongue. He jerked up a clenched fist, and Dave instantly set himself to duck. No blow was struck at him, however. Instead, Colonel Comstadt beat his fist against his own chest.
"I am Colonel Comstadt!" he thundered. "I am second in command of the Gestapo. In the hollow of my hand I hold the lives of thousands. I have but to close my hand, and they are no more. So, you have never heard of Colonel Comstadt, eh?"
"No, never," Dave lied with a straight face.
The German looked even more disappointed. He actually looked as if he were going to break down and cry. The expression on the man's face, however, struck no funny note in either Dave or Freddy. On the contrary it struck a very chilling note. It was like a file being drawn across their taut nerves. One thing was now definitely sure in their minds. Colonel Comstadt was a madman! He was absolutely insane. Clever, cunning, a great credit to Adolf Hitler, but definitely a crazy man.
"Well, then I will tell you about Colonel Comstadt," the Nazi suddenly said in a friendly and engaging voice. "He has done many great things for Der Fuehrer, and he will do many more. That is as sure as the stars that shine by night, and the sun that shines by day. How, you ask? How has Colonel Comstadt been able to do so much? It is simple. Very simple. I know many ways to make men talk. And when you make a man talk, you learn many things. You understand me, eh? I ask you a question, and you give me a foolish answer. Very well, then. There are many ways to make you talk. And not one of them will be pleasant for you!"
The Nazi finished talking with a curt nod of his head, and then smiled in cunning triumph.
"You see?" he murmured. "You understand perhaps now, eh? You are not men. You are mere babies. I could break you both with the fingers of one hand. Well?"
Dave looked at those big hands and gulped inwardly. He imagined them at his throat, or breaking off an arm, and gulped again.