But the side door opened to admit a rather tired-eyed lieutenant, and the colonel didn't continue. He turned and handed the little black book to the officer.
"Get everything out of this, Wilson," he said. "Put two or three on it, if you have to. I want it as soon as possible. By the way, anything yet on the other business?"
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant said. "I was about to ring you when you buzzed. Henderson just called in. Both John Dobbler and Harold Cabot are listed in Records as having been killed during the blitz. Neither has been seen at the address given since then, sir. Fact is, sir, Henderson says Dobbler's block was completely destroyed, and nothing's been put up there as yet."
"Thank you, Wilson," Colonel Fraser said with a nod of dismissal. "Now, get right at that thing, there's a good chap."
"Quite, sir," the junior officer said, and hurried out of the office.
Colonel Fraser turned to the other and clenched his fists in a helpless gesture.
"If only we could devise some means of civilian identification that couldn't be stolen by Nazi scoundrels!" he said bitterly. "No doubt that Hans and that Erich have been walking around London bold as brass and posing as poor Dobbler and Cabot ever since the Blitz! It's enough to make a man weep."
"I wonder how they got hold of the papers." Dawson murmured.
"A hundred different ways," Colonel Fraser said. "Took 'em off the poor devils as they lay dead in the bomb rubble. Or when they were in a casualty station, or a hospital. Things were very much in a stew during blitz nights, you know. Everybody was helping everybody else, and nobody was asking the next chap why he was there, or what he was doing. There wasn't any time for that, or any need. London was in a desperate state, and little things didn't matter at all. No, they simply got hold of the papers somehow, and then steered clear of those addresses. Civilians carried no pictures on their papers for identification, you know. That is, save an important few in charge of Air Raid Defense work."
"Well, that's one satisfaction, at least," Freddy Farmer said grimly. "That beggar, Erich, will steal no more papers. We sent that blighter where he belongs."