Some five minutes later Dawson, Farmer, Lieutenant Faintor, and Colonel Fraser were out in front of the building on the sidewalk. Dawson looked back up at the place where death had whispered by so close, and then looked up and down the blacked out street in a half-hearted effort to determine what part of London they were in. He saw nothing but shadowy outlines and silhouettes that didn't tell him a thing. "Just where is this place, sir?" he asked the colonel as Lieutenant Faintor slid in behind the wheel of a car at the curb. "Out Golders Green way," the senior officer replied. "Get into the car, you two." "Golders Green?" Freddy Farmer gasped as he climbed in back. "The start of the Midlands Road? Lord! They did give us a ride, didn't they?" "Well, this night has spared me one thing, at least," Dave Dawson grunted, as he sank down on the leather cushion beside Freddy. "What, I'd like to know?" the English-born air ace demanded. Dawson looked at him and grinned in the blackout. "I don't have to worry about explaining the jokes in that show to you now," he said gently. Freddy Farmer didn't even comment. He simply kicked Dawson in the ankle as though it were accidental, but omitted an apology. CHAPTER SEVEN _Uncle Sam Steps In_ The long ride back to the War Office Building was made more or less in silence. And when Colonel Fraser ordered Lieutenant Faintor to put the car away, and led Dawson and Freddy Farmer up to his huge office, he simply waved them to comfortable chairs and promptly disappeared into an adjoining office. Dawson looked at his own uniform and then at Freddy's. "Boy, I hope he's gone to call a tailor!" he said. "Come the light of day and we'll be picked up by the first M.P. who spots us." "Frankly, I hope he's gone to get us something to eat," Freddy replied. "I'm absolutely famished." "You always are!" Dawson grunted. "Even at the time you're just paying the check. But that reminds me, Freddy. Remember the funny hunch I had at dinner tonight? Maybe the old feeling wasn't so far off at that, eh? Me, I must be psychic, huh?" "Perhaps!" Freddy snapped. "But you're also a whole lot of other things that we won't bother to mention here." "I'll ignore that crack, and simply take it from whence it comes," Dawson said loftily. "But would you like to make a bet, my little man?" "A bet about what?" "Never mind about what," Dawson said. "You want to bet?" "No!" Freddy said firmly. "I'm too tired to be roped into anything by you. By the way, though, how is that cast-iron head of yours? You're certainly acting chipper enough." "We Dawsons can take it," Dave grinned. "But lay off unpleasant memories, will you? So you won't bet, huh? Well, just the same, I'll bet you anything you like that we don't go on to Kingston from here. Or back to the Squadron, either. Now, what do you think of that?" "I think you're balmy!" Freddy snorted.