"Fools, stupid dogs!" he went right on roaring. "I order something, and I get nothing but words by courier! Well, we shall see about that. We shall see. There'll be a few swine heads fall before this day is done. And they will not all belong to our enemies. The—"
Words failed the big fat German Field Marshal. He dropped back into his desk chair mumbling and gurgling sounds that didn't make any sense. Dave noticed that von Gault was watching von Staube closely, but there was just a shade of worry in the Luftwaffe Marshal's cruel eyes. Perhaps von Gault had gone through this thing before, with disastrous results to himself. After all, von Staube was Number One. Anyway, the Luftwaffe Marshal was watching his partner in world wide crime closely, and was not looking at all happy.
Suddenly, though, as if a completely different person had sat down in Field Marshal von Staube's chair, the red rage faded from the German's face. He picked up the scattered papers and gave them another look. He scowled, tugged at his lower lip, and massaged his fat chin a little. Then he raised his eyes to von Gault's face.
"Perhaps it will not alter things much," he said. "Von Alder is not one to depend on, anyway. We will use the Sixth, Tenth, and Fourteenth, instead. All seasoned troops. They will probably do the job much better, anyway. But that von Alder. That one! How he will hear of this!"
The German Field Marshal checked himself as though suddenly realizing that Dave and Freddy were still standing there. He turned and gave them a curt nod.
"Return to your regiment!" he growled.
Dave started to salute and turn to leave, suddenly thankful of the chance to get out of there, and fast. But he didn't go all the way around. First he saw Freddy Farmer still standing at stiff attention. And next he saw the Nazi Captain's black eyes fixed steadfastly and questioningly on the English youth. It was then Dave remembered Freddy's crazy remark to the Captain. His heart stood still, and he impulsively moved his hand a little so that he could get at his pocketed gun that much quicker. Was this the show-down? Was Freddy going to make this the show-down? Would both of them have to blaze away in cold murder—Nazi style?
It seemed to Dave that he lived a thousand years standing there half turned to go out the door. Then von Staube's booming voice exploded through the silence.
"Didn't you hear my orders?" he thundered at the motionless Freddy. "Return to your regiment!"
"Your pardon, Herr Field Marshal," the English youth spoke up bold as brass, while ice formed about Dave's heart. "I have a report of my own. It has nothing to do with this other thing. May I ask, Herr Field Marshal, if your pilots have reported to you?"