"More loss of sleep," Dawson flung at him, "because of more useless talk at three in the morning from a certain nit-wit. And, I do mean you!"
"And the same to you, sir!" Freddy came right back at him, and made a face. "But I am still wondering what's going to happen next?"
"Who cares, so long at it's action against those dirty Nazis," Dawson said.
"Quite!" the English youth murmured. "But you're a very tired little fellow. Go on back to sleep. I'll tell you about it in the morning. That'll be time enough. Good night, Dave. Or rather, good morning."
Freddy reached a hand toward the table lamp between the twin beds, but Dave grabbed hold of it in time.
"Nix!" he said. "That look on your face makes me suspicious, young fellow. You've got something important on your mind. I can tell. Come on, now. Let's have it, pal."
"Oh, I fancy it will keep until morning," Freddy Farmer said with a wicked grin. "Go get your beauty sleep. After all, it arrived after you had gone to sleep. So what's the difference?"
By now Dawson was wide awake, and as he swung his legs out from under the covers there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Stop right there, pal!" he grunted, and leveled a finger. "What came after I'd gone to sleep? Do you tell me, or do I toss you through that window, blackout curtains and all?"
"Oh no you don't!" the English youth cried as he leaped out of bed on the far side. "Calm down, young fellow, and I'll tell you. Stay put, or not a word will I tell you!"