re trouble for us. You are a very capable
man, Lieutenant Wilson."

"You flatter me," Stan said smoothly. "But how are you going to get back
to Germany?"

"Don't try to stall for time. I have killed your pals, Allison and
O'Malley, the idiotic Irishman. Now it is your turn. I shall break a
container of Herr Domber's gas in this room before I lock you in."

"Is that the way you killed Allison and O'Malley?" Stan asked. A
dangerous light had begun to flicker in his eyes.

"It is and I will go back to the hut where I left them. I have a radio
there and will send a message. Two hours later I will be crossing the
channel on a British patrol boat. You know we have captured a few."
Minter smiled. He could not help gloating over his victims.

"You Nazis have very nice habits," Stan remarked.

"Yes, we are efficient." Minter laughed. "This hut is made of corrugated
iron, the floor is cement, the windows are steel with such small panes.
You will die like rats!"

"Interesting, but I prefer to be shot!" As he spoke Stan dived in a
lightning-like leap, straight at Minter. The Nazi's gun flamed and Stan
felt a blow like the smashing of a big fist against his chest. The gun
flamed again, its fire searing Stan's neck, then he had closed with the
German and had forced his gun arm down. Splinters had dived in and hit
the Nazi around the knees. They went down in a twisting, writhing mass
with Stan's blood spattering over all three.

Splinters got the gun and brought its butt down on Minter's head. He
slumped down and rolled free of Stan. Splinters stood up.

"You're hit bad," he said.

"I'm all right. Get some water and bring him around. We have to locate
his hut and the radio. He must have others helping him." Stan steadied
himself with an effort. He was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.

Splinters got water and doused the Nazi, while Stan tore open his shirt
and began plugging an ugly wound in his shoulder. He had to sink down on
a bunk to do it. But he refused to give in. He had to get to the death
hut and rescue O'Malley and Allison. The medics might be able to save
them.

Minter opened his eyes slowly. He groaned and pulled himself to a
sitting posture.

"Take that container away from him," Stan ordered. Minter had pulled a
square glass container from under his coat. It was attached there by a
leather strap with a snap on it. Splinters grabbed the container and
unsnapped it.

"No, you don't," he growled.

"We