A moment or so later he started to move away from his hiding place, but on second thought he checked himself. The uniform he wore would of course serve as a certain amount of protection, but he would be foolish to stretch his luck. After all, Antwerp was well patrolled at night. There was a curfew law for the civilians, and there was a good chance there was a curfew law for German soldiers and officers, too—for all troops save those assigned to night patrol duty.
"Hold it, pal!" he told himself. "Daylight is your best bet. Then nobody will give you a second look. The streets will be full of troops and officers, then. Right! What's a few more hours of waiting? They might mean the difference between success and a Luger bullet. No, fellow, hold your horses. Play it absolutely safe from here in."
It was hard to slip back in among the parked cars and sit down on a running board, but he forced himself to do it. He'd been receiving too many lucky breaks lately, and he was afraid it would all come to an abrupt end if he didn't watch his step. And so, while every part of him screamed to get into action, he resolutely and doggedly stayed put and waited for dawn.
Just a few hours to wait, but Dave lived his whole life over a hundred times. He thought of everything he had ever done, and recalled hundreds of minor incidents in his life that he was sure he had completely forgotten. He thought of Freddy, and of the R.A.F., and of his friends and relatives back in the States. He thought of everything possible, and played a million games with himself to kill time. But when eventually the light of dawn came oozing up out of the east and the shadows fled westward, and the rooftops of Antwerp began to take definite shape and meaning, his nerves were dangerously close to the breaking point. And it was all he could do to stop himself from leaping to his feet and screaming at the top of his voice, just to do something to let off pent up emotional steam locked within him.
Finally he couldn't stand it any longer. It was still early dawn, but the light was growing brighter all the time. And when he paused and listened intently, he could hear the sounds of the Nazi-occupied city coming to life. He got up off the running board and smoothed out his uniform as best he could. Then he walked nonchalantly out of the parking area and along a street that would lead him in the direction of the river front.
"Here I come again, Pierre Deschaud!" he whispered softly. "And this time I hope it counts!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
Quick Thinking
The city was wide awake and getting up steam for a new day of war when Dave finally turned off the main waterfront drive into a winding, shadow-filled lane that was marked Rue Chartres. He paused at the corner and stared hard into the shadows, searching for Number Sixteen. His heart was pounding with excitement, and the blood was throbbing through his veins. Rue Chartres! The end of one trail, and the beginning of another—the air trail that led back to England!