"Why bother?" he grunted. "Let him find out for himself."
Freddy pursed his lips, half turned and gave von Khole an accusing look.
"I say, let's stop playing with this stupid game," Freddy said. "I jolly well fancy you know all about it. Good grief, man, you must know if you're as clever as they say you are."
"I think you are talking in riddles," the Nazi said in a wary tone. "And I do not like riddles. What is this interesting thing you feel positive I should know?"
Freddy gave an exasperated shake of his head.
"The convoy, of course!" he snapped. "Its arrival! What else, my dear fellow?"
"Arrival?" von Khole echoed in a harsh voice.
"Certainly!" Freddy snapped at him again. "It docked at English ports early last night. All this business is simply an attempt to remove your wonder raider and her school of tin fish out of this blasted war once and for all."
"You little lying swine!" the German hissed as his eyes clouded up with thunder heads of berserk rage. "Do you think I'd believe that for an instant? No, my little boy. Your precious convoy has not made port, yet. And it never will! I can see that you have learned some things from your American friend, Dawson, here. He has taught you how to bluff. But I am one you cannot bluff."
"Okay, have it your way," Dave said, catching on to Freddy's effort to stall for time, and keep stalling. "You know your own codes, don't you? Your aircraft codes?"