As the officer left, Dawson looked at Freddy and arched an eyebrow.
"Now what?" he grunted. "I thought that neither the major nor Colonel Fraser were going to come down here to see us leave. But maybe there's something he forgot to tell us."
Freddy shook his head and looked at the rain-spattered window of the mess lounge of a certain R.A.F.-Yank Eighth Air Force airdrome located on England's east coast.
"I doubt that," he said. "Up there in London they both told us as much about Duisburg as any two men could possibly know. And there isn't a map or a photo of the place that we didn't see. No, it just can't possibly be that he has anything to add. Most likely he's become a trifle worried about you, and has come down here to see if you'd rather stay behind while I carried out the job alone. And after all, that would be one thing less I'd have to hinder me."
"Listen to the guy rave!" Dave jeered. "Go it alone when he's often admitted that he's been afraid of the dark all his life? Fat chance! Come, little fellow! Take my hand and I'll lead you through the nice rain. And don't fret. There'll be other lights just as soon as we reach the C.O.'s office!"
Freddy made an appropriate face, and drew back his right foot. Dawson frowned sternly, and waggled his finger in warning. But just the same he went out the mess lounge door well in front of his flying pal.
They found Major Crandall alone in the field commandant's office, and the Intelligence officer gave them both a keen, searching look as they entered. He seemed to like what he saw, for his face immediately relaxed in a smile.
"Surprise, surprise!" he said. "But it's not because I was nervous, and just had to see you take-off. Something a darn sight more important to you two than that. Two hours ago I received contact word from one of my agents in the Duisburg area. One that I was afraid was gone for good. True, word that he's still alive was a good ten days in reaching me. And a lot of things can happen to an agent in enemy territory in ten days. There was no message. Just that he was alive and still on the job, but using a different address. Whether that means that Nazi counter-espionage agents got their eye on him, and are watching his old address, I don't know. It may mean that he was captured but managed to escape before he could be tried and shot. However, he is the only one that Colonel Fraser or I have heard from in weeks. So I flew down here in a hurry to tell you, just in case it develops that he can help you."
The major paused for a moment, then moved a step closer to the two air aces, as though he feared that the very walls had ears.
"The address," he said in little more than a whisper, "is Number One-Five-Six Kholerstrasse. Yes, the very same street. He goes by the name of Heinrich Weiden. I can't tell you how he looks now, but he was a big man. A six footer, with straw hair and blue eyes. The fourth finger of the left hand is missing at the first joint. But he may be wearing a fake fingertip. I'd try to get word to him to expect you, but it's too much of a risk. Only the colonel and I know of your mission, and it's safest to keep it that way."