"So?" a deep voice growled. "You would try to escape us?" For a moment Dawson stood like a man struck to stone, his eyes popping, and his mouth sagging. It had stunned him to see the two shadowy figures appear out of thin night-black air. And it stunned him to feel the firm pressure of a gun muzzle against his ribs. But what stunned him most was to hear the voice _speaking German_! "What, what?" he finally blurted out in English. "Hey! What's the big idea? Is this a stick-up?" "Silence, dogs, both of you!" the voice hissed. "You are fools to try to make jokes. We have followed you all the way from the hotel. We _know_! You are stupid to think you could escape us!" "But see here, you're altogether balmy!" Freddy Farmer spoke the first words that came to his lips. "We're not trying to escape anybody. We're lost, and--" A sharp hard slap cut off the rest of Freddy Farmer's words. Dawson started to leap forward instinctively, but an arm was hooked about his neck, and the gun muzzle was practically snapping one of his ribs in two. For a brief instant colored light spun around in front of his eyes, and blind rage tempted him to risk a bullet from the gun as he attempted a Commando trick to rid himself of his attacker. But in the darkness he couldn't see how Freddy was making out, and there was the chance that Freddy might pay for the trick with his life. And so he let his coiled muscles relax, and stood perfectly still. A moment later the hooked arm was removed from about his neck, but the pressure of the gun muzzle remained the same. "That is good," the voice growled in his ear. "My orders are not to kill you unless I am forced to. So do not be foolish, as I do not feel patient tonight." Dawson ignored the man's words and strained his eyes to see the spot where Freddy Farmer and the other shadowy figure were standing so close together they looked like the form of one very fat man. "You okay, pal?" he asked, keeping his voice steady. "Quite, old thing," Freddy Farmer replied calmly. But to Dawson Freddy's voice sounded very muffled. "Silence!" Dawson's "playmate" rasped, still speaking in German. "Not a word, or a sound, you swine. I warn you. Hans! Make your dog silent so that he will not trouble me! And then go back and get the car. Hurry." A cry of instinctive alarm rose to Dawson's lips, but before he could let it out it was all over. There was blurred lightning-like movement, then a sickening _thud_, and Freddy Farmer slowly sank to the sidewalk. Blazing rage flared up in Dawson, but cold, common sense held him in rigid check. This was no moment to be a blockheaded hero. The odds were far too great against him. And so he continued to remain perfectly still as the second shadowy figure faded away to become instantly lost in the darkness.