That started the two R.A.F. youths off, and by the time they woke up to realize they hadn't asked Captain Smith-Standers a single other question about their status, they had landed at Washington, and were on their way by car to the British Embassy. There they met the Ambassador, and even had lunch with him and his subordinates. It was a very wonderful luncheon, and the conversation was highly interesting to them both. They were treated almost like returning heroes--rather, visiting ones. However, not one word was dropped that gave them so much as an inkling as to why they were in Washington. And although they were both fairly exploding inside with questions, they had sense enough to keep their mouths shut, and wait. They had to wait until late in the afternoon. Then Captain Smith-Standers escorted them out of the Embassy and into a waiting car. It whizzed them halfway across Washington to a building that was perhaps the most unimposing of all the heaps of Government marble and stone in the whole city. He got out of the car with them, and walked with them up the flight of stone steps as far as the door. There he stopped, and extended his hand. "Well, I fancy we part for good now, chaps," he said, and smiled at them out of eyes that held just a trace of awe and admiration. "Been wonderful meeting you, and all that sort of thing. Good luck, and worlds of it to you both." "Sure, thanks," Dave gulped. "And the same to you. But look--what's this place, anyway? And what do we do now? I've seen better jails than this." "Quite!" Freddy Farmer breathed. "Did we do something wrong at the Embassy? I say, can't you tell us anything?" "Sorry," the British captain said with a smile and a shake of his head. "Fact is, there isn't anything I could tell you. I've been here before, though, and it's no jail. Wish the devil I was in your shoes. Well, I must trot. Go inside. You're expected. And--and good luck!" Captain Smith-Standers shook hands with them again, saluted, though he still wore civies, turned on his heel and went down the steps to the car. Dave and Freddy watched the car drive away, then turned and stared at each other. "Have you ever been cockeyed drunk, Freddy?" Dave suddenly blurted out. "No, never," the English youth replied. "Have you?" "No," Dave grunted. "Then why do you ask?" Freddy demanded. "Just wondering," Dave murmured, and reached for the handle of the door. "Just wondering if it makes you feel the way I do now. In sixteen million pieces, and every doggone thing upside down. Well, I suppose this is our next move, eh?" "Fancy it is," Freddy replied with a shrug and a frown. "So open the blasted door, and let's go in." CHAPTER THREE _Special Assignment_