"We turn right," Dawson grunted, and picked up the shilling. "And I'll just keep this as a little souvenir of the night's travels. Of all the--!" "I'm sorry, Dave, blast it all!" Freddy Farmer groaned. "I guess the London streets aren't what they used to be." "In more ways than one, pal!" Dave murmured. "But dry your tears, little fellow. It's okay. Maybe we'll bump into a taxi at the next corner, or one of your London Bobbies who can give us a bearing and put us on the beam." If the two air aces had turned left at that cross street they would have met a patrolling Bobbie within the next two hundred yards. But they turned right, and in so doing walked straight into the beginning of their greatest battle with Death, and Satan's forces of evil and ruthless destruction! CHAPTER THREE _The Dead Can't Breathe_ It was no doubt their imagination, but as Freddy Farmer and Dave Dawson walked along the street to the right they both felt as though it was even more blacked out. They could hardly see a dozen steps in front of them. On both sides the street was lined by a solid row of four or five story city dwellings, not one of which showed so much as a tiny pin point of light. Perhaps they were filled with men, women, and children, but as far as Freddy and Dave could tell they might well have been lost in the very heart of a completely dead city. They didn't even meet anybody on the sidewalk. In fact, they didn't meet anything but darkness, and more darkness. Clouds had crawled across the face of the sky, so it was only by straining their eyes that they were able to make out the silhouettes of the building tops. And to add to all that, the street seemed to go on and on, with not one single intersection. Finally Dave drew to a halt, and made sounds in his throat. "Well, I guess we're even now, kid," he said with a groan. "Because if you didn't lose us before, I sure have lost us now. This doggone street is like a subway tunnel with no end." "Quite!" Freddy murmured. "I almost wish the Luftwaffe would come over, so we could have some light and maybe see something. This is definitely a mess." "With all the trimmings," Dawson added. "Look. Let's put it that that shilling gave us a bum steer. Let's go back and try the other way for a while. We're not going to meet anything this way, that's a cinch." "Right-o with me," young Farmer said. Then suddenly he grabbed Dawson's arm. "Wait a minute!" "For what?" Dave grunted. "You got to sneeze?" "Shut up!" Freddy snapped, and exerted pressure with his fingers. "I thought I heard footsteps back there, coming our way." They both listened intently and heard nothing but their own breathing. "You and your big ears!" Dave finally growled. "Footsteps on this street, my eye! There can't be two _other_ dopes in London tonight. Let's go, and--" But Dawson never finished the sentence. At that instant two shadowy figures seemed to appear by magic right out of the darkness.