"That is true, Herr Leutnant," the soldier gulped. "But I had nothing to do with it. I am stationed at the western barracks. I was called out to help in the hunt. I do not know the details, Herr Leutnant, only that he escaped."
"So?" Dave snapped and fixed the soldier with a scornful eye. "So the first Belgian you meet, you decide he is the one, eh?"
The soldier swallowed hastily a couple of times, and a look of worry crept into his eyes.
"We were given a complete description, Herr Leutnant!" he said. "This boy wears the same clothes. I was sure that he was the one, the way he was slinking along. And I clubbed him to the sidewalk, Herr Leutnant, because he tried to run away from me."
"Yes, that is true," Dave said gravely, and nodded his head. "I saw him try to run away. But these Belgian fools frighten easily, like rabbits. You, there! Get up on your feet! What is your name?"
As Dave barked the last, he glared down at Freddy. The English youth got tremblingly to his feet, clutching his cap between his fingers.
"My name is Henri Duval," Freddy said in hesitant French.
"So?" Dave growled. "And why did you try to escape? Did you want to be shot? Why did you try to escape, eh?"
Dave put a lot of emphasis into his words and looked hard at Freddy. The other R.A.F. pilot stared back blankly for a moment, then played up to Dave's lead.
"I did not escape from any place, Herr Leutnant," he said.