ose we stop
playing cops and robbers and make it a foursome? My partner got tickets
right behind your seats for the hockey game tonight. We're also staying
at your hotel. Or would you rather be alone? Now don't be afraid that
you'll hurt my feelings. I'll understand. After all, a couple of fellows
on leave have their rights, you know."

"Yeah, sure, of course," Dawson mumbled absently, not quite sure if he
was in the middle of a dream or not. "Sure, sure it's okay by Freddy and
me. But--but look, sir. I mean, what's all the big idea? Why should the
F.B.I. want to follow us around? I don't get it."

"To be perfectly frank, neither do I," Agent Carter made the amazing
reply. "All I know is that two days ago we were given orders to come up
from Washington, register at your hotel, and keep an eye on you two."

"But for what?" Freddy Farmer asked. "You mean you were to guard us
from harm, or some such silly rot?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it silly rot, Captain," the F.B.I. man said
gravely. "After all, you two are marked men, in a way. I mean by that,
you've been thorns in the side of Axis Intelligence more than once since
this Second World War started. Not that personal revenge by enemy agents
in this country is to be expected. Yet, on the other hand, there's no
sense in regarding it as impossible."

"Well, I'll be darned!" Dawson gulped. "But that's just plain screwy.
Why, I can name several dozen famous soldiers in this war that the Axis
would love to get a million times more than they'd want to get us. Do
you mean that everybody who's got in a few pokes at the Axis has an
F.B.I. escort when he goes on leave?"

"Hardly," Agent Carter said with a smile. "Let's say that you two happen
to be special cases. Why, you can search me. Lots of times we're given
orders, and we have no idea what's behind them. Let's go over and meet
my partner. Or is my suggestion of a moment ago out?"

"No," Dawson replied. "I told you it was okay by us. Besides, maybe your
partner can tell us things."

"If he can, he won't," Agent Carter said. "You can count on that, I'm
afraid. His name is Hickson, and it so happens that he's a rabid Ranger
fan. He comes from this town. Let's go over."

Still not quite sure that he wasn't being made the goat of some crazy
gag, Dawson walked with Agent Carter and Freddy Farmer across the lobby
to where a thin, almost sickly-looking man of uncertain years was seated
in a chair reading a newspaper. He put