“And you mean?” Freddy Farmer prompted when the Yank air ace lapsed into silence and didn’t continue. “Go on, finish it.”
“We’ve at least got them worried,” Dave finally said, and nodded for grim emphasis. “Colonel Welsh’s faked message to Washington H.Q. has got them standing on their ears. They think we know something mighty important, when in truth we don’t know a darn thing. And that little fact has me standing on my ear, if you must know.”
“I’m with you there,” Freddy sighed, and gave a little shake of his head. “And if you must know, I’m more than a little worried. I mean, things have happened, but—well, not a thing to our advantage.”
“We’re still alive and kicking,” Dave reminded him. “You could class that as an advantage.”
“Oh, I do!” Freddy said instantly. “Quite! But apart from still being alive, what have we gained? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And to get down to brass tacks, as you Yanks say, what have we ahead?”
“Who knows?” Dave grunted, and shrugged. “We’ll just have to stay in and pitch, and hope for a break. But there is Second Lieutenant Marble with the Ninety-Sixth Attack Squadron. He’s our ace card, you know. All this business just leads up to him. You might say that now we’re just running the gantlet of enemy agents, who are trying to cut us down. But Marble is at the end, and when we get to him—”
Dave finished the rest by winking and snapping his fingers. Freddy Farmer nodded, but the expression on his face indicated that he was not very much impressed.
“Yes, quite so,” he murmured. “But, supposing Marble can’t help us any? Supposing he doesn’t know a thing about what poor Tracey was working on? What then?”
“Then we know for sure we’ve got to start from scratch,” Dave said quietly. “And, Freddy, I’ve been thinking.”
“Good lad,” the English youth said with a smile. “Splendid! You’ll be surprised in how many ways it will improve you!”