"And the little item that gives it even greater importance now, Major?" Colonel Fraser said, and smiled knowingly.
"Yes, very much so," the other said grimly. Then he looked at Dawson, and tapped the picture of Colonel Frank Bowers. "This," he said. "Rather, that rat, Herr Baron, who posed as Colonel Frank Bowers. Both English and Yank Intelligence have been able to find out that the man called Herr Baron was directly connected with whatever is taking place in these suddenly double guarded factories. Don't ask me, Herr Baron who, because I don't know. Nobody seems to know. Not even in Germany, or the occupied countries, where he seems to be feared as much as Himmler, if not more so. Obviously he is a skilled actor, and an expert quick change and make-up artist. Also, he is clever, and has a heart of stone. But that's about all we know. At least, all that Yank Intelligence knows. Perhaps, Colonel, you can add to—"
But Major Crandall didn't get the chance right then to finish the question. The side door opened, and Lieutenant Wilson came hurrying in. In one hand he held the little black book. And in the other he held two sheets of paper, and Dawson could see that they were both filled with closely typewritten lines. And Dawson could also see that Lieutenant Wilson was striving hard to be typically English, and not let his wild excitement show on his face.
[CHAPTER EIGHT]
Sixteen Kholerstrasse
As Lieutenant Wilson quickly crossed over to the desk Colonel Fraser turned his head and looked at him in mild surprise.
"What is it, Wilson?" he asked. Then catching his breath, "Good grief, you've done it so soon, man?"
"Yes sir," Wilson replied. "A very simple numbers code. Matter of fact, sir, I fancy it's one he made up for his own use. I've decoded and typed out everything, sir. Mostly personal notes for his own use. It seems like the chap didn't care to trust to memory, so put it all down in code. But most, most interesting, sir!"
"Thank you, Wilson, and jolly quick work," Colonel Fraser said, as he took the little black book, and the two sheets of typewritten lines. Then, with an apologetic smile at Major Crandall, and Dawson, and Farmer, he murmured, "Excuse me, Gentlemen, while I glance through this stuff, will you?"
All three replied that that was all right, but even though they had shouted, "No!" in a loud chorus it wouldn't have made any difference, for the colonel was already giving his concentrated attention to the reading matter. Dawson tried to be polite and not stare at the man, but when Colonel Fraser suddenly gasped sharply, muttered something under his breath, and a look of angry bewilderment flooded his face, neither Dawson or the other two could possibly keep their eyes off him. It was almost comical, the picture. Major Fraser, Dawson and Freddy Farmer were like three eager dogs who were having the dickens of a time controlling themselves until they received the signal.