CHAPTER TWO
Night Attack
It was all Freddy Farmer could do not to snatch the letter from Dave's extended hand. He took it, settled back in his chair, and bent his eyes on the typed words. Stunned amazement spread all over his wind- and sun-bronzed face as he read the two paragraphs.
"Upon receiving this you will leave your hotel and proceed to Six Hundred and Ninety-Seven (697) River Street.
"The route you will follow to this address is as follows. Walk from your hotel south to Cort Street. Go west along Cort Street to Tenth Avenue. Then south to River Street, and east to Number 697. There ring the bell under the name, Brown. Be sure to follow these route directions exactly.
"X-Fifteen"
Freddy read it through twice, and then raised his eyes to meet Dave's.
"X-Fifteen?" he murmured softly. "That's one of the code identifications that Colonel Welsh uses! So he must be here in New York, and not in Washington."
"Could be," Dave grunted, and started to push back his chair. "The Colonel gets around a lot, you know. Well, I guess that's us, pal. Certainly screwy orders. That's quite a walk from here. But maybe after you've had Commando training you're a sissy if you take a cab. So—Well, what do you know?"
"Eh?" Freddy Farmer ejaculated. "What do I know?"
Dave stood up and half nodded his head at the other side of the dining room.
"Our rough tough-looking friends have vanished in thin air," he said. "They aren't around any more. Must have got sick of giving us the eye, and pulled out."