ave to line them
up in a sentence that made sense. He caught a word here and there,
however, and presently the grin faded from his face. He heard the name,
_Holland_, and _Belgium_. He heard _Nazi cows_. He heard _Maginot Line_,
and _Siegfried Line_. And a whole lot of the girlish looking clerk's
personal opinions of Hitler, and Goering, and Hess, and Goebbels, and
everybody else in Nazi Germany.

He did not hear a lot, but he heard enough, and his eyes widened, and
his heart began to thump against his ribs in wild excitement. He banged
on the desk and shouted at the clerk, but he might just as well have
shouted at the moon. The clerk was far, far too busy trying to swim down
the telephone cord.

Dave started to yell even louder but at that moment a hand took hold of
his arm and swung him around. He found himself staring into the flushed,
good looking face of Lieutenant Defoe. The French officer was breathing
hard and there was a strange look in his eyes that checked the happy
greeting on Dave's lips.

"Hey, what's wrong, Lieutenant?" he asked instead. "That clerk acts like
he's going nuts. And, say, Dad isn't in his room. Not even any of his
things."

"I know, _mon Capitaine_," Lieutenant Defoe said and held onto his arm.
"Come. First we shall have some breakfast, and then I will explain all."

The fact that Defoe was there, and that the French officer had called
him by the kidding title of My Captain soothed the tiny worry that was
beginning to grow inside Dave.

"Okay, Lieutenant, I am starved at that," he said as the officer led the
way to the breakfast room. "But, that clerk. He was shouting something
about the Germans in Holland and Belgium, and.... Hey, my gosh! Has
Hitler invaded the Lowlands?"

"Early this morning," Defoe said gravely. "Another of his promises
broken, but we expected it, of course. Yes, _mon Capitaine_, now France
will truly go to war. Here, sit there. Let me order. They are perhaps
excited a little this morning, and I will get better results."

Dave waited until the French officer had ordered for them both and put
the fear of the devil in the lumbering and thoroughly flustered
waitress. Then he leaned forward on the table.

"What about Dad, Lieutenant?" he asked. "Is anything wrong? I mean, is
he all right?"

The French officer nodded and wiped beads of sweat from his face with a
huge colored handkerchief. It was then Dave saw how tired and weary the
man looked. His eyes were draw