On impulse Dawson made a quick decision not to press his point. He had a feeling that he was perhaps skating on very thin ice, and that it would be best to "test" out the ice a bit before really getting tough with Herr Krumpstadt. And so, instead, he asked a question that had been on the tip of his tongue since shortly after he had regained complete consciousness. "Did you see any of my comrades come down with their parachutes?" Herr Krumpstadt frowned as though deep in thought. A moment later he shook his head. "No, _Herr Leutnant_, you were the only one I saw," he said. Then he swung around and snarled at the others. "How about you? Did any of you see one of _Herr Leutnant's_ brave comrades come down by his parachute? Well? Have you tongues? Speak up!" Almost everybody shook their heads, but Dawson thought he saw a tall Frenchman start to open his mouth as though to speak, then snap it shut and start at Herr Krumpstadt unwinkingly. The double-chinned German turned back to Dawson and shook his head. "No others were seen, _Herr Leutnant_," he said. "Only you. And now, can I be of further service? You wish me to drive you to the nearest Luftwaffe field? I would invite you to use the phone, only--only all the phones have been taken out. An order of the Ministry of War Production. But perhaps I can do something for you?" "Yes!" Dawson snapped, and jerked his head. "Get these others out of here. Is there no work to be performed in this place? Do you all drop your tools, and stare, simply because a Luftwaffe officer comes down with his parachute?" Herr Krumpstadt shook his head so violently that some of the little beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead flew off like fine rain. "Oh, no, not at all, _Herr Leutnant_!" he gasped. "But we were all here at a conference when we saw you descend in your parachute. I will dismiss them at once." The German played the factory big shot to the hilt. He swung around on the others, and stabbed a thick finger at the door. "Get out!" he shouted. "We will talk of that matter later. Now I am busy. Get out! Heil Hitler!" He received a mumbled reply to this vocal salute, and then Germans and Frenchmen alike shuffled out of the office, the last one to leave softly shutting the door. Dawson didn't watch them go. Instead he spread his feet apart a little, hooked his thumbs in his uniform belt, and stared fixedly at the back of Herr Krumpstadt's head. The German presently turned around, a boot-licking, oily smile on his fat lips. But when his eyes met Dawson's steady stare his smile faded, and a worried look crept into his face. "There is something, _Herr Leutnant_?" he asked in a strained voice, and swallowed hard. Dawson nodded coldly. "Yes, Herr Kurt Krumpstadt, there is something," he said.