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After a while Stan was convinced Domber was so sure he would never live to repeat what he had heard that he felt no need to be careful about what he told the Yank. "I have had many guests, Dutch, Norwegian, British and now an American." Domber beamed. "I have enjoyed each of them, and I am sure they never complained of my hospitality."
Looking past the boy Stan saw Swen. Swen began shaking his head as Stan looked at the water pail. Stan pretended not to see him, though Swen was squarely in front of him. Reaching down he took the tin cup, filled it, and drank deeply. He had a second drink, then tossed the cup to the boy. As he did so, he shot a side glance at Herr Domber and almost burst out laughing.
Back of the genial manner Stan felt the cold threat of death lurking in the way the traitor looked at him. Domber was very sure of himself and of his power. Stan resolved that he was going to be one guest who fooled the Dutch Quisling. After dinner Domber showed Stan his collection of war trophies and his laboratory and workshop. The laboratory was far more elaborate than the workshop.
That did not look dangerous and Stan was very thirsty. He turned his back and climbed into the cockpit again. He was down inside, working on a repaired cable. Close to his face was the hole where the shell had ripped through and severed the cable. Suddenly Stan heard someone whispering. It was the voice of Herr Domber.
An expanse of smooth turf lay between the window and the sidewalk. Stan turned back to Domber, who had seated himself at a desk. The office had nothing military about it. There were no war maps on the wall. The only picture was one of Hitler, hung back of the desk. There was an adding machine, two sets of files, several large cabinets with steel doors, and a desk with a typewriter on it.
Other parts were stacked on a table. "Know anything about one of these gadgets?" Stan asked Swen. "Gadget?" Swen repeated in a British accent. "Yank word for machine," Stan explained. "No, I have never seen one before," Swen replied. Herr Domber stood around for a little while, then made off. Stan grinned at Swen. He had decided to work upon the kid. There might be a chance to do something.
"I must have a look at the machine," Domber said. He walked to the bench and spent a half-hour studying the supercharger. Finally he turned to Stan. "How much testing will be required to adjust it?" "It can only be adjusted by running the motor," Stan said and did not smile. "I should say the plane could be ready for flight by afternoon." "You will run it that long?"
She turned over slowly, fired twice, idled, then fired again. Sweat broke out over Stan's forehead. Below him the faces of Domber and his men blurred. The engine kept on rumbling and sputtering. Stan relaxed as he pretended to be working on the gas adjustment. He gave the valve a turn and the Allison smoothed considerably. Leaving it that way he looked down at Hans, a deep frown on his face.
Turning about he entered the house. Herman appeared at once and bowed. Stan followed him into Domber's library. A table had been set before an open fire. Domber was seated in an easy chair, puffing on a cigar. "Have a pleasant stroll in the garden?" he asked. "You certainly requisitioned a nice place for yourself," Stan remarked. "Oh, I have owned this for years," Domber said. "This is my home."
"My experts could do this, but it might take several weeks and we do not have that much time. We have such a ship as this one. All we need is a supercharger to make it the best ship in the world. Naturally I am anxious and do not wish to lose any time." "I'll need an English-speaking helper. I may have to have parts made and I do not run a lathe," Stan said. Herr Domber called a man over to him.
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