"What else do you know about our defenses?" the Secretary asked. Phil told them. He knew how big the atomic stockpiles were, where the bombs were, and how they were to be used. He knew everything about the ICBM rocket program and where the launching sites were. He knew where every ship in the Navy was and what sort of armament it carried. He told them where the secret airbases were hidden and how many bombers were at each. * * * * * As he continued, the officials became more and more nervous. They fidgeted as each new piece of information was disclosed, and the flow of information seemed endless. At last the Secretary of Defense said: "That's enough!" His face was white. He turned to the others. "Gentlemen, I think we can say without doubt that we have captured the most cunning, clever, and dangerous spy in the world. The question is: What shall we do with him?" "How did you get this information?" one of the generals asked. "I don't know," Phil said truthfully. "It just came to me." "He won't talk," said an admiral. "Who do you work for?" asked another. "I used to work for Starr & Son, but they fired me three weeks ago." "I mean, what country?" "I don't work for _anybody_!" The Secretary of Defense looked up at the FBI man. "I want everything on this man--_everything_! He has to be investigated as no other man has ever been. If possible, we want to know what this man has been doing every second of his life ever since he was born!" The FBI man nodded. "I'll have to check with the Chief, of course, but I'm sure we can put every man in the Bureau on this job." The Secretary nodded. "A few kidnap cases and things like that will have to wait, but that's nothing compared to this." The FBI man left, and the other men began grilling Phil Merriwether again. It went on for hours. * * * * * Phil Merriwether sat in the deepest, most secluded cell of the United States Government's greatest security prison. He sat and thought, his brain working more furiously than it had ever worked before. He was tired and haggard from loss of sleep, and worn out from hours of questioning. But that wasn't the worst of it. The entire top brass of the government was in a stew over what they should do with Philip Merriwether. The FBI could get no evidence on him; there was nothing to prove he was a spy. And even if there had been, the case could never be brought to court. Phil knew too much. "Good heavens," he moaned, "how did I ever get into a fix like this?" "You're a blabbermouth," he answered himself. "If you hadn't told them all that stuff, you'd never have been in this jam!" But how did he know all the information about the U.S. Government's most top secret plans? It must have had something to do with that fainting spell. How did that explain it? "Well," he said to himself, "you've got a lot of information--use it!"