have acted plenty suspicious. I'm taking you to
the London office. We'll have to check this call you just made and get
you identified."

"I can't waste all that time," Stan protested. "I have to get out to my
outfit."

The officer smiled. "I think I've landed one of the boys we're after. We
have had a tip that the Germans have planted a group of the smoothest
men they have over here. So far we haven't been able to put a hand on a
single man of them. But you fit the picture neatly."

"Why?" Stan asked.

"Well, you are an escaped pilot. That's the way they have been coming
in. They are always able to slip through because they know all about the
outfit they were supposed to have been with. They're even supposed to
look exactly like the officers lost over Germany." The officer laughed.
"The more I look at you, the more convinced I am that we've landed one
of them at last. Come along."

Stan walked beside the officer. He felt like kicking himself for
bungling. If the time were not so short everything could be
straightened out. But he was sure the first waves of the giant air
attack were about due to start, possibly before midnight. Allison had
said Minter was not around. He and O'Malley might not be able to locate
the spy.

"Here's my car," the secret-service man said.

Stan paused beside the sleek roadster. The officer opened the door. Stan
stepped inside. The officer walked around the car. Stan leaned over the
side.

"Aren't you going to do anything about this flat tire?" he asked.

"Another flat?" the officer said in disgust. "That's the third one this
week. It's about time I had some new tires." He got out and started
around the car.

Stan reached over and flipped on the switch. He slid under the wheel and
stepped on the starter. The engine hit at once and Stan slammed the
gears into mesh. The roadster leaped ahead, then stalled. Stan opened
the choke and the car leaped again, its tires showering the agent with
gravel.

"Stop or I'll fire!" the officer shouted.

Stan bent down and hit a near-by corner. He did not want to have a real
blowout. He wanted to get as near headquarters as he could before the
British police headed him off. The car careened around the corner and
headed down a tree-lined street. Dusk was beginning to settle and Stan
switched on the lights. He was disgusted to see that the lights were
hooded for blackout driving.

Stan knew exactly how to get where he was going, but he avoided th