"But the B-Twenty-Five must indicate to them that—!" the English youth managed to say before Dawson interrupted.
"Sure, but so what? That bomber can mean one of two things to them. That it brought over a full crew to do something. Or that a couple of guys flew it over to take others back. And if the Gestapo is mixed up in this, they must feel sure that the B-Twenty-Five is here to take others back."
"Which is just about the truth," the English youth grunted gloomily.
"So that's just why we've got to step in and make them change their minds!" Dawson shot at him. "We've got to make them think that only two of us came over, and, finding out that our plans were shot high wide and handsome because the bomber was captured, that we called off the deal and lit out for home as fast as we could. See?"
"I most certainly don't see!" Freddy Farmer growled, and scowled. "What kind of raving is this, anyway?"
"Too bad I haven't got a pencil!" Dawson grated. "I could draw you a picture. Stop thinking of food, and concentrate, will you, pal?"
"I'll take you up on that remark later!" Freddy snapped. "Of course I'm concentrating. But are you talking sense?"
"I'll try to put it in words of no more than five letters," Dave sighed. "Now, here it is. We must make them think that only two people came over in that B-Twenty-Five. Two guys, who planned to make a secret landing at night and pick up—well, pick up one, or two, or half a dozen other people on this side. The Nazis can pick their own number from one to ten. Okay. The bomber is captured by them, so we've got to make them think we got scared, called off what we had hoped to accomplish, and beat it back to the safety of the Russian front. Got it, so far?"
"Yes, I think so," Freddy replied. "So far. But how do you propose to make them think we've given up and gone back? And just how do you plan for us to go back?"
Dawson jerked a thumb off to the right.