The two flying aces exchanged looks, shrugged, and then followed the Sergeant up the stairs. On the landing of the third floor the Sergeant turned right along a hallway and finally came to a stop in front of the fifth door down on the right. He motioned politely for Dave and Freddy to wait, then knocked and went inside.
"I don't think I like this, Dave!" Freddy whispered when they were left alone. "You heard him say that Colonel Welsh wasn't here. What the devil do you suppose is up?"
"Your guess is as good as mine," Dawson replied with a scowl. "I'm beginning to suspect, though, that it's something very hush-hush. I still wish I hadn't left my service gun in the hotel. Here, Freddy. I'm probably acting silly, but you never can tell."
As Dave spoke the last he fished out one of the Commando knives and slipped it into Freddy Farmer's hand. The English youth took it without a word and let it slide into his pocket out of sight.
"Think we're foolish to wait here, Dave?" he breathed a moment later. "After what's happened tonight, we may be simply asking for more trouble. It's certainly a mixed up mess."
"Plenty screwy," Dave grunted with a nod. "But I'm a curious cuss. And I'm just sore enough to follow this whole cockeyed business through to the end. But keep on guard, Freddy. Back to back, pal, and so forth."
"Quite!" Freddy grated, and hunched his shoulders as though to get himself set to spring at a split second's notice.
Another minute, and the door opened and the Sergeant reappeared. He pulled the door wide, stood to one side and motioned for the two air aces to enter. They stepped through into a plainly furnished outer office. The Sergeant closed the door, walked past them and opened a door on the right.
"In there, sirs," he said. "Major Barber is waiting."
"And just who is Major Barber?" Freddy Farmer demanded, and didn't move.