Believing that he had said more than enough, and that to so much as open his mouth would invite sudden disaster, Dawson ignored the worried, questioning eyes fixed upon him, and let his own gaze wander about the room. The first thing he noted was that there were windows on two sides. Windows that had steel shutters for blackout curtains. They were so fitted into the sash frame that when drawn they kept out both light and air. And bullets too, no doubt. But apart from the windows the room wasn't any different from scores of London apartment living rooms that he had seen. But no! There was one big, big difference. Hanging on the wall to his right was a framed photograph of the lowest form of life ever to be born. A framed photograph of Adolf (Slaughter the women and children, too) Hitler. Just to see the photograph made Dave Dawson sick to his stomach, and he quickly took his eyes from it. And then the side door opened and the thick-set man came into the room. "In a few minutes, dog traitors!" he rasped at the two prisoners. "In a few minutes Herr Baron will be here." "And after that where will _you_ be, I wonder!" Dawson couldn't keep himself from saying. The thick-set man blinked, frowned, and turned to his partner. Hans frowned, too, and his voice sounded definitely worried as he spoke. "The swine is trying to make us believe it is all a mistake, Erich," he said. "But there is no mistake, no?" The man called Erich switched his beady eyes back to Dawson's face again. It seemed as though he had a moment of doubt; then it was gone as his lips slid back in a cruel smile. "No, there is no mistake!" he said harshly. "Too long were we together in Herr Himmler's training school not to recognize you at once, even though you have changed a lot. No, Hans. Do not let what the dog says worry you. Come, Hans. Let us enjoy some schnapps before Herr Baron arrives. Keep your eye on them. I will get the bottle and the glasses." Smiling and rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the drink, the man called Erich moved across the room to a little wall cabinet and pulled open the door. Dawson saw Hans' eyes follow the movements, and he impulsively steeled himself for a leap toward the Luger that was now pointing not at him but at the floor. At that instant, though, two things happened simultaneously. Freddy Farmer's knee bumped against his in a sign of caution, and Hans' eyes and Luger returned their attention to him. Dawson slowly let the clamped air out of his lungs and stared absent-eyed up at the ceiling above Hans' head. The Nazi smirked and then reached out with his free hand to accept the glass of schnapps that Erich of the bullet head held out. Together they raised their glasses, gave Hitler the usual Heil, and drank noisily. "To the Fuehrer's secret weapon, Hans!" Erich said hoarsely, and refilled their glasses. "_Ja, ja!_" Hans echoed loudly. "To the Fuehrer's secret weapon, and death to all enemies of the Third Reich!"