see how they could
possibly have found out. I'd stake my life that only we three know the
contents of those sealed envelopes."

"If I may say so, sir," Freddy Farmer spoke up, "I have a feeling that
Dawson has come very close to the truth, if he hasn't hit it exactly.
Frankly, sir, it was just too perfect for the Nazis to have planned it
this way. There--there just wasn't enough time, I'd say."

"What do you mean by that last?" the colonel asked him.

"I mean that if we had been attacked by a land-based plane, we could
take it that the Nazis had got wind of the truth and had come after us,"
the English youth started to explain. "But that aircraft was from a
surface ship--a surface ship that was _directly_ in our path. Tell me
this, sir, if you will. On the way down, what did you plan to do when
you reached Trinidad?"

"Eh?" the senior officer grunted. "Why, see you two, of course, and find
out what had happened, if anything. After I had heard what you had to
say, I'd decide what to do next. Why?"

"Well, there you are, sir!" young Farmer cried. "That proves that
Dawson's idea must be right. Don't you see? Even _you_ weren't sure as
to where this aircraft would go next. You didn't even give the pilot his
course instructions until the very start of the take-off. So how could
the Nazis possibly have found out and radioed that surface vessel to
sail to a point _directly in our path_ in the time it took us to fly out
here from Trinidad? It's--it's silly, if you'll forgive me, sir."

The colonel said nothing for a moment. Then he gave a long-drawn-out
sigh.

"Yes, I guess you're right, both of you," he said. "The secret of the
President's trip must still be as safe as ever. Yes, it must be that
way. We just happened to bump into something that any plane flying this
route would have bumped into."

"I sure hated to see that sea raider get away!" Dawson grumbled. "Talk
about lucky shots! That first blast got the radio set cold, unless the
radio man can fix it up, sir? I saw the shambles it was as I dived by
the navigator's nook."

"No, no such luck," Colonel Welsh replied. "I asked him quite a while
back, and he said it was hopeless. The navigator, of course, has a
record of the exact position at the time, so we can report it when we
reach Casablanca."

"How's the pilot, sir?" Dawson asked. "Were there any other casualties
besides that poor co-pilot?"

"The pilot will pull through," Colonel Welsh replied. "The only