"That's all right," the man suddenly said with a chuckle. "I've had this face all my life, so I'm used to it. Don't worry, I won't bite you."
Dave flushed to the roots of his hair and heartily wished there were a hole in the floor into which he could jump.
"I'm sorry, sir," he managed to stammer. "You see—well, Farmer and I have been going around in circles ever since we left England. And—well, it's sort of caught us off balance, if you know what I mean."
"I understand perfectly," the U. S. Intelligence chief said kindly. "Coming here must make a fellow feel he is acting out one of those crazy pulp paper thrillers. You know: secret doors, and special code-words. Well, we're not as bad as that. However, we find it does help to play just a little on the mysterious side. These are the offices we use when we have work to do. Those over in the War Department Building are just for show. Fact is, I personally would go crazy with all the silly trimmings they have over there. But pardon me. I want you to meet my comrades in this daffy business."
Colonel Welsh turned and led them over to a desk so big that it could have easily been cut up into five desks of the usual size. Three men were seated at the desk, and they pushed up from their chairs as the Colonel and the two youths approached.
"Captain Lamb," the Colonel said, pointing to a chunky redhead. "Next to him, Captain Stacey. And that chap who's as thin as I am is Lieutenant Caldwell, our coding expert. Gentlemen, Flight Lieutenants Dawson and Farmer."
Dave and Freddy shook hands with the other officers, and then dropped into chairs the Colonel pulled up. It was not until then that Dave had an opportunity to take a good look about him, and what he saw set his blood to tingling through his veins, and his heart to pounding against his ribs. He had often been inside the inner offices of British Intelligence, and on each occasion he had been stunned by the number of gadgets of all sorts, and the vast array of equipment they were used to operate. But the stuff he stared at now put the British equipment in the shade. There was every conceivable piece of equipment from ultra-ray flashlights to giant X-ray machines. One whole wall was lined with telephones and short wave radios for both sending and receiving. And along another wall was a row of file cabinets that operated electrically. One had only to push a file button, and the correct drawer slid open and the exact file folder shot up out of its clamps. In truth, Dave believed that Colonel Welsh had at his fingertips complete information of everyone of importance in the war, and that within a matter of seconds he could establish contact with any one of his agents, no matter in what part of the globe he might be. And those two items were but two of the many, many things that could be made possible with the equipment in that huge room. It was like the mechanical wizardry of Scotland Yard and the F.B.I. all set up in the same room.
"Interesting stuff, isn't it, Dawson?"
Dave turned his head to see Colonel Welsh grinning at him. He blushed slightly, and nodded.
"It certainly is, sir," he said politely. "A fellow could have some fun in this place."