Von Till stared across the table at Teri. His face had set like stone, and his voice turned to ice. "I would like to be alone with the major for a little while, my dear. Why don't you wait in the study, we will be along shortly."

Teri acted surprised. She shuddered faintly, gripping the edge of the table before she answered him. "Please, Uncle Bruno, it's too early. Can't you wait and have your little talk with Dirk later?"

Von Till shot her a withering look. "Do as your uncle says. I have a few important matters I would like to discuss with Major Pitt. I am sure he will not leave before seeing you."

Pitt found himself becoming angry. Why the sudden family crisis? he wondered. He took a long breath, sensing something very wrong. An odd prickle crept up his back; that old familiar feeling of danger. Like an old and trusted friend, it always tapped him on the shoulder and warned him when a nasty situation was brewing. Unseen, Pitt slipped a paring knife off the plate of fruits and pushed it under his pant leg and into his sock.

Teri looked at Pitt, her face paling. "Please excuse me, Dirk. I don't mean to be a ninny."

He smiled. "Don't worry. I have a weakness for pretty ninnies."

"You never seem to fail to say the right thing," she murmured.

He squeezed her hand. "I'll join you as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting." Suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears and she turned away and ran up the stairway.

"I am sorry for speaking so harshly to Teri," the old German apologized. "I had to talk to you privately and she rarely appreciates my desire to converse without feminine interruption. It is often necessary to become firm with women. Do you agree?"

Pitt nodded. He could think of nothing worthwhile to say.

Von Till inserted a cigarette in a long ivory holder and lit it. "I am extremely interested in hearing about the attack yesterday on Brady Field. My information from that section of the island tells me it was a very old and unknown type of airplane that struck your facility."

"Old maybe," said Pitt, "but not unknown."

"Are you saying you have determined the make of airplane?"

Pitt studied von Till's face. Silently he dawdled with a fork, then slowly laid it back on the tablecloth. "The aircraft was positively identified as an Albatros D-3."

"And the pilot?" The words came slowly from von Till's tight mouth. "Do you know the identity of the pilot?"

"Not yet, but we will shortly."

"You seem confident of an early capture."

Pitt took his time about answering. He slowly and methodically lit a cigarette. "Why not? It shouldn't be difficult to trace a sixty-year-old yellow antique aircraft to its owner."