However, his flash of silent anger died as various thoughts concerning the utterly incredible business began to pass through his brain. Utterly incredible, maybe, but a very definite reality just the same. That it was a case of mistaken identity was as plain as the nose on anybody's face. But that the two kidnappers were obviously Nazi agents right there in London was something you just couldn't laugh off. Nor could he laugh off the fact that Freddy and he had stumbled into something that was deadly serious. The reasons, and what have you, were completely beyond him. He believed that they were being taken to someone known as Herr Baron. But from there on it was all just a lot of blanks that no amount of imagination could possibly fill in. He checked his rambling thoughts as he felt Freddy Farmer stir, and then heard him groan and mumble. "Blast the dirty blighter!" young Farmer got out. "Good gosh, my head!" "Take it easy, Freddy," Dave murmured. "You got clipped good. But if you can talk, it can't be too bad. Just try--" The two heavy booted feet clumping down made Dawson feel for an instant that his spine had been snapped. "Silence, dogs!" a harsh voice said. "You will have your chance to talk later!" Dawson cut short the blistering retort that rose to his lips. Then, after he had got full control of the seething anger within himself, he inched one hand over until he could feel Freddy Farmer's right leg. Then, using a short jab of a finger for a dot, and a longer jab for a dash, he signalled his pal in International Morse code.... "Chin up, pal. It's all very screwy, but we can't do a thing about it yet. Just play dumb, and wait for the break." A couple of moments passed, and then Dawson felt Freddy Farmer signalling a reply message. "Right you are. But when and if the break does come, I'm going to give it to the dirty beggars. I think they are Nazi agents." "You can say that again!" Dawson signalled. "And a couple of tough eggs, too. So watch it. Play it their way until we find out what's what." Young Farmer signalled back that he would do just that. And then the two air aces stopped their silent signalling, and grimly waited for further developments. However, they had to wait quite a while. A good forty-five minutes passed before the car's speed was slackened. Then it turned sharp right, bumped over something, and went down a steep incline, after which it traveled a short distance on the level before it finally came to a full stop. From the movements of the car Dawson was pretty sure that they had turned off a main street into a short inclined driveway that ended at a garage. And when a moment later he heard the sound of doors rolling shut he knew that he had figured correctly. And then a switch was snapped, and the interior of the car was filled with yellow light.