The Wolf watched him. Then "Well?" he said again in his low,
cutting voice.

The Weasel stopped. "Your pardon, Excellency. It is so amusing!
That Colonel, he must be a man forty-five years old. He treated
those small boys, those Boy Scouts, like equals. He talked it
over with them as though they were men. He told them--"

"That will do," said the Wolf. "I don't want to hear any more."

And with those words, the Wolf, murderer and German spy, sealed
his doom.

"Now come here," he said. "You, Adolph, you have done good work.
That formula will mean victory for the Fatherland. Did I but
dare, I would at once take it myself out of the country. But I
have my orders. We must know all things about that concentration
camp at the fairgrounds. Yes, you have done well, Adolph." The
thick-set man smiled a queer, twisted smile with a crooked lip
that always seemed to grin.

The Wolf continued. "From now on our task grows more difficult.
You, Weasel, will go to the aviation school at Ithaca. You
already understand planes. Get their models; find out the
methods of their management. Cripple all the machines you can.
Report to me here when I call you. Send me a name and address
that will reach you. And, remember, no drinking or flirtations,
Weasel. Don't forget my long arm and heavy hand."

The Weasel shuddered. "No, Excellency," he said shortly.