Preface for a Reporter
Erin Locke
Payment of my IOU to my sister Miranda,
who jumped into the lake first in exchange for
a two-page story.
The additional 8 pages are the interest.
With a flourish, Tintin pulled his papers out of his briefcase and put them on the desk in his hotel room, as Snowy jumped up and sat on the bed. "Well Snowy, this is a real assignment! Undercover in a foreign country, to find out what's going on behind the scenes. We'll start bright and early tomorrow; I'm glad we caught that cart from the station, otherwise we would have had to walk to the hotel in the dark." With that, he put his briefcase next to the bed and sat down next to Snowy. Snowy panted happily as Tintin tousled his ears, until a knock at the door caused him to prick his ears up alertly.
"Hullo? Someone's knocking!" Tintin crept over to the door and carefully peeked out the peep-hole. "It's the cart driver! Now what could he want?" he said, and opened the door.
The cart driver took off his hat apologetically. "Herr Tintin? I think that your dog got into my grocery basket and ate half a fish I was bringing home. Will you pay for the damages so I can get a new one?"
Tintin frowned. "Snowy! I should've kept a closer eye on him. I'll go get your money."
He turned back into the room, and opened his briefcase while scolding Snowy, who whined. "Snowy, why did you behave so badly? And you don't even like..." He gasped. "Fish!" A chair crashed over his head, leaving him sprawling on the floor.
"Tintin!" barked Snowy, and ran over to attack the cart driver who held the remaining pieces of chair. The cart driver swung his stick at Snowy, knocking him against the wall. Snowy reeled, stunned.
"Mongrel!" growled the cart driver, tying up Tintin. He dragged him over to the window, and heaved him through to a shadowy figure on the other side. Then he closed and locked the window. Sneering at Snowy, he walked out of the door and locked it. Snowy barked and ran over to the door, scratching it. "Tintin! You beasts!"
Tintin came to in the back of a dark truck. He groaned, and sat up, rubbing his head, but promptly fell over again when the truck went over a big bump. "Ouch!" he yelped, striking his head against something cold and hard.
"Quiet, you!" barked a harsh voice.
"What? Where are you taking me?" demanded Tintin. He reached out his hand to feel in the darkness and grabbed something cold and cylindrical. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he blinked his eyes while they adjusted to the dark. He found that he was lying on the floor of a transport truck, next to benches seating three armed soldiers, one of them pointing his gun right at Tintin's face.
"I said quiet, and I won't say it again!" growled the voice.
Tintin gulped and just sat up. What have you gotten yourself into this time? he thought, listening to the rattle of the truck over the road.
They finally stopped, and the back of the truck was suddenly opened. A very large guard held the door as the first two guards got out, then Tintin, prodded by the rifle of the last guard. He found himself standing on bare ground, searchlights sweeping the area, revealing shabby buildings, barbed wire, and guards patrolling a fence with dogs. Snowy! thought Tintin. I hope he's okay-
"So, this is what a famous spy looks like." said the large guard, breaking in upon his thoughts.
"Spy?" said Tintin, confused. He wasn't only confused about being called a spy. He was mostly confused about the fact that the guard was so plainly delighted about it, as if he was meeting a famous actor, or celebrity.
"SCHULTZ!"
The person who barked this had strode up a second ago, holding a riding crop under his arm with a monicle screwed into his eye. His bald head was illuminated for a second under one of the searchlights.
"Müller!" gasped Tintin.
The man looked at him as if he was tired with people's stupidity. "I beg your pardon?" he said shortly.
"Oh!" Tintin took another look, "You're not Müller!"
"Of course not!" The man turned with a look of irritation on his face to the guard he had called Schultz. "Blabbermouth!" he snapped. "You're not supposed to reveal confidential information like that!"
"Commandant, I never said anything about who you were!"
"That's not what I meant! I meant about his being a spy!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Commandant! Is it a secret that he's a spy?"
"Yes, it was a secret, but it can hardly be called that now!"
Schultz looked confused. "So it's not a secret that he's a spy!"
"SCHULTZ! Keep your mouth shut or the only secret you'll know is what it feels like on the Eastern front!"
The guard's mouth snapped shut audibly.
Tintin, who had been listening to the conversation with increasing disbelief, jumped in. "But I'm not a spy!" he protested.
"Ah ha!" said the Commandant. "But you are a spy, and that proves it because that's exactly what a spy would say!"
"What?" cried Tintin. "That doesn't make any sense! I'm not a spy, and I'll-"
"The only thing that you'll be doing is staying in the cooler! I have better things to be doing than listening to nonsense all night! Schultz!"
The Commandant stalked away, and Tintin found himself being marched away by the guards and into a building where they shoved him into a cell and locked the door.
"Locked away with no way out!" said Tintin, sitting on the bed. "And poor Snowy! I suppose he's in the same predicament that I'm in!"
A figure dressed in black moved stealthily through the dark woods, slipping from tree to tree smoothly until he tripped over something and fell with a yelp and a thud. "What in th' bleeding-" the figure exclaimed, feeling around for what tripped him, which was the source of the yelp. His hand met a wet nose. "A dog! What are you doing in the woods? You look like you've been slogging cross-country."
The little white dog was indeed covered with burrs and mud. It whined, and held up its paw.
"Oh, I 'ope I haven't hurt you." The shadowy figure paused. "I'd better bring you along and make sure you're okay. After all, I feel responsible now."
The little white dog wriggled when he picked him up, but he gripped it to his chest and held his muzzle closed. "Don't want you barking any, it'll wake up the neighborhood," he said, jokingly, continuing on his way through the trees.
"What is that?"
"It's a dog, sir."
The man examining the dog sighed. "I can see that, but what's it doing here?" He pointed rather forcefully at the ground where the group of men had gathered around the table holding the dog.
"Well, you see, sir, 'ere I was, tripping through the woods, light as a fairy, sir, when-"
"Enough of the narrative," exclaimed the shortest man in the group, with a thick French accent. "All the Coronel wants to know is, why did you bring it down into the tunnel?"
"That is what I'm trying to tell him, LeBeau, if you'll stop interrupting. As I was saying, 'ere I was, tripping through the woods when I suddenly tripped into the woods, if you know what I mean."
"I don't."
"Well that is to say, I tripped, sir. Over the dog. And noticing he was 'olding up his paw, and being the decent chap that I am, I thought I would take him along for a check-up."
LeBeau scoffed and rolled his eyes. The last man in the group stroked the dog affectionately. "Well, I think Newkirk was right," he offered.
"Thank you, Andrew," Newkirk said, exaggerating the thankfulness in his voice pointedly.
"I mean, what if this dog is one of the krauts' dogs, and they found out it had been hurt, and then followed it back to here? We'd sure be in a pickle then."
Newkirk covered his eyes with his hand. "Thank you, Carter," he sighed, this time annoyed.
"What?" asked Carter.
LeBeau nodded emphatically. "Yes, and when the krauts hear it bark, then they'll follow it back here, not matter whose dog it is!"
"Okay, okay, settle down, fellas;" said the Colonel. "Maybe it doesn't bark. In any case it is odd that it should be wandering around these woods. I doubt it's a kraut's dog." He looked thoughtful. "A dog usually isn't far behind his master."
"If he has a master." added LeBeau.
Before Newkirk could counter, a trapdoor in the earthen ceiling lifted, and someone looked down at them from above. "Colonel." he said, urgently. "Schultz is headed this way."
"Thanks Kinch." said the Colonel, switching from deep thought to quick effiency without a hiccup. "We'll have to leave the dog down here; Newkirk, Carter, get some sort of muzzle on it to stop it from barking. LeBeau, let's get up there."
"Yes sir." they said in unison.
LeBeau opened the door to their barracks, and Schultz shuffled in. "Colonel Hogan, you know that it is supposed to be lights out. I'm already tired, and would like to go to bed. Now why don't you?"
Colonel Hogan looked up from the book he was holding. "Oh, sorry Schultz. The boys just wanted me to read them a bedtime story, and I simply couldn't say no."
"Oh, a bedtime story. Oh boy, could I tell you a story. Commandant Klink-" he paused and his little moustache twisted to one side. "No. I can't tell you." He paused again. "At least I think not."
Hogan looked interested. "Can't tell us? Why not?" he asked, putting the book down.
"Because it's a secret. At least I think so. I am not sure." Schultz yawned and sat down at the table. "I am too tired to think about it."
"Here's an idea: Why don't you tell us what it is, and then we can tell you if it's a secret or not?"
Schultz looked confused. "I don't think I should. What if it is a secret?"
LeBeau jumped in. "Well you know us, Schultz. We wouldn't tell anyone!"
"That's right." said Newkirk.
"And besides, what if it isn't? You'll never be able to sleep until we tell you whether it is or not!" added Hogan.
"Well..." said Schultz. "A new prisoner came into camp tonight."
"A new prisoner? Not anything special?"
"Not anything special?" scoffed Schultz. "He is a famous spy!"
Hogan looked intruiged. "A spy? What was his name? Where did they capture him?"
"Please Colonel Hogan! That is all I know! Besides, it might be a secret! Or is it? Let's see, first it was, then it wasn't..." Schultz trailed off, using his fingers to count.
He had just reached the end of his second hand when he sat bolt upright."What was that?" he gasped.
"What was what?" asked Hogan, shooting a glance at Newkirk and Carter.
"I heard a dog barking."
"A dog barking? Where?
Schultz stood up. "From underground!" he said, stabbing his finger towards the ground. "There it is again!"
"Does it sound sort of muffled like?" asked Hogan, concernedly.
Schultz nodded emphatically.
With a knowing glance at the rest of the men, Hogan started clicking his tongue. "Tsk,tsk. That's bad."
"Bad?!"
"Yup. Possibly progressive..." He trailed off.
"Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis." chimed in Carter, Newkirk nodding emphatically.
Schultz shuddered with each syllable. "Wait! It's fading away," he said hopefully.
"It is? Oh no!" said Kinch with a tremor of forboding in his voice.
"What?!" Schultz yelped.
"You should lie down right away, it's the only way."
"That will help?"
Newkirk patted him on his back. "Oh, certainly, make you right as rain. But right away, mind."
Schultz hurried out of the barracks with much consternation. Hogan sighed with relief, and shot a look around. "Now let's see what has become of our furry friend."
Tintin paced the narrow floor in the dark cell. "If only I knew who put me in here." He leaned for a moment against one of the windowless room's cold damp walls. "A prison camp! But why? And they called me a spy! I bet Müller's behind this; but how? I have to escape. If I get a chance I- Hold on, what's that?"
A muffled sound came from behind a stone in the wall. He crouched down next to it and listened. "Great snakes! It's barking! I wonder if..." His fingers felt all around the stone until they found a grip, and he pulled it as hard as he could. To his suprise, it swung inward quite easily, causing him to fall down. A fuzzy white dog leapt out of the uncovered hole, wriggling all over him and licking has face in joy.
"Snowy! A tunnel!" he laughed. "I don't know how you did it! We need to leave, though, before a guard comes in to check."
Quickly, he nudged Snowy back into the hole, and crawled in after him. The stone swung back into place noiselessly, and the room became silent and still.
In the dark, Tintin slowly felt his way along the tunnel, Snowy at his heels. "Where could this tunnel lead?" he mused. "At least it's better then staying in a cell waiting to be shot for a spy! I'll have to be on my guard... Hello, a fork in the tunnel!"
He scratched his head and looked back and forth between the two tunnels. "Well, they both seem the same... I'll just take the one on the left. Come along, Snowy!"
Snowy was standing just inside the tunnel on the right. He gave a glance into it, but then left it and followed Tintin.
As his footsteps died away, two figures emerged from the tunnel on the right. They glanced at each other, then one took the tunnel Tintin had just entered, and the other took the tunnel he had come from.
Tintin stopped. "What's that?" he whispered. Snowy whined. "No, it stopped. Must have been an echo. Still, I wonder..." He continued to feel along the wall until he came to a little alcove, where he squeezed in. Soon, he heard footsteps approaching, and a light played on the floor of the tunnel in front of him. A tall man in a raggedy uniform followed behind with a flashlight, passing by Tintin in inches. Tintin held his breath while he passed, walking on into the darkness. He slowly let out his breath, then caught it again. The footsteps stopped; then came nearer again. The man appeared again, retracing his steps backwards until he stopped right next to the silent journalist; then he shone his light on Tintin's face.
"Hey!" he exclaimed.
Tintin leapt forward, shoving him against the tunnel wall. The man struck wildly out with his flashlight, and hit him on the head; Tintin swayed for a second gripping the man's coat. Then he crumpled in a heap on the ground.
"What did you have to hit him for, Carter?"
"I couldn't help it! He leapt out at me!"
"Alright, that's enough."
Tintin slowly sat up, rubbing his head. Opening his eyes revealed a group of men surrounding him, looking part concerned, part suspicious.
"Alright guys, give him some room."
"Wh- Where am I? Who are you?" Tintin asked, feeling the bump on his head.
"I think we should be the ones asking 'who are you?'. How did you get down here?"
"Come on Colonel, he's just a kid."
"Then he should have read the age restrictions. We can't take any chances about spies."
"Hey!"
Tintin scrambled to his feet. "I'm not a spy. And I'm tired of being called one. You can tell whoever's behind this that-."
"Ah ha!" interjected the Colonel. "So you're the spy!"
"I just said that I'm not a spy!"
"Look." The Colonel held his hands up in front of him in a guesture of appeasement. "I'm pretty sure you're not a spy either. I'll trust you. My name's Colonel Hogan, and these are some of my men: Carter, LeBeau, and Kinchloe. Now will you tell me how you got into this tunnel?"
"You're... the Allies? What are you doing in a prison camp?"
"That one's easy." said Kinchloe, smiling.
"You're prisoners?" Tintin said, amazed.
"You hit it right on the head; oh, sorry. And you are...?" asked Hogan.
"Well, my name's Tintin. I'm apparently a prisoner too."
LeBeau became excited. "Tintin? As in Tintin?" he gushed. "Of course! Your dog, and everything! I've read all about your exploits!" He shook Tintin's hand vigorously.
"Well, I'm glad to see you have good references." said Hogan.
"I'm pleased to meet you." replied Tintin. "My dog! Where is Snowy?"
"Newkirk has him. He's the one that found him in the woods and brought him in here. I guess your dog must have sniffed you out and showed you to the secret tunnel. Speaking of which, listen: It's hard to believe, but we have a sabotage operation going on here. Yes, in a prison camp. Yes, it's very extensive. No, we can't just smuggle you out and pretend you've escaped like normal. I think that's all the usual questions."
Tintin's open mouth closed again.
"You're gonna have to trust us. We need you to get back into your cell. We'll get you out somehow, but you have to go back now before you're discovered missing. Got it?"
"Yes, I think so; I'll go. Just show me the way."
"Right. Carter, show our guest back to his room. Kinch, LeBeau, come with me."
Commandant Klink sat at his desk, rifling through papers. He signed one every now and again, and forcefully set it aside. The crease in his brow grew deeper with every new paper that he picked up and hurriedly read.
As he floundered in the sea of paperwork on his desk, he became aware of voices filtering in through his window; grumbling, he got up and stalked over to the window. Flinging it wide, he opened his mouth to bawl out the two prisoners who were noisily talking as they swept outside the building, their backs to him. But he shut it again. And listened.
"What did you say about that spy, LeBeau?"
"Well, Kinch, I said that I heard that there was some sort of spy in solitary."
Klink drew himself up indignantly and opened his mouth again. Then he shut it again.
"But I also heard a guard say that he heard that he wasn't an Allied spy."
"What? What do you mean?"
Klink creased his brow, confused.
"He said that he heard that he was a double agent."
"A double agent?"
"That's right. I heard him say that the Gestapo planted him at Stalag 13, so that he could escape."
"Escape!" Klink gasped. He clapped his hand over his mouth, but LeBeau simply continued.
"That's right, escape. For two reasons."
"What were they?"
"Well, for one, that he could pretend to be an escaped prisoner of war. Then he could get to England undetected. And the second one was that Hochstetter wanted to discredit Klink. Because then there would finally be an escape at Stalag 13."
Klink's eyes grew wider and wider as LeBeau continued his talk, but at the mention of Hochstetter, he scowled and clenched his fist in anger. But he calmed himself and continued to listen.
"Wow! How will the commandant get out of this one?"
"I'll tell you how." (Klink's ears pricked up, and he leaned closer to them.) "No doubt he has perceived that the spy is a double agent. And so, what he will simply do is insist that the spy be taken to the Gestapo for questioning. If he has him wear a hood, then Hochstetter won't know that it is his own spy!."
"I see, and play them at their own game, right?"
"Right. Then the spy will become a triple agent, because he'll have to escape from the Gestapo instead, discrediting them."
"Wow, the commandant has brains. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool him."
Klink smiled proudly.
"We'll see. I mean, the proof is in the pudding"
Klink glared at LeBeau.
"Speaking of pudding, isn't it about lunchtime?"
"Yeah, this ground's swept enough. Let's go."
They walked away, and Klink closed the window. He rubbed his hands together, and hummed a little tune. "Ah-ha! So that's how it's going to be played, is it? Well, we'll see about that."
He picked up the phone. "Get me Gestapo headquarters."
"A spy, you say? And why are you so eager to hand him over to the Gestapo?" Hochstetter said, eyeing Klink suspiciously.
"Well, I simply felt that we could not handle him here at Stalag 13 with the proper technique. After all, he is an important spy." Klink smiled ingratiatingly.
"That is what you say. But-" He fingered his mustache, his other hand clutching his gloves. "It is true that you are simply not competent to handle an important spy. I'll transport him directly. Have your guards bring him out to the transport."
"Fine, fine. Oh, and Major Hochstetter?" Klink beamed. "I think that he should have a hood on. After all, he'll have to go right past the prisoners, and you know how they talk-"
"Leave the security measures to me, Klink! I know how to handle a dangerous spy like this!" Hochstetter snapped.
The prisoner was loaded onto a transport truck. Two guards hopped into the back with him, and the vehicle drove out of the front gate, following Hochstetter's car.
In the back of the transport, the guards kept a close eye on the prisoner, who just leaned against the wall and swayed with the movement of the truck. They almost fell off their seats, however, when it went over a huge bump with a bang. The cars slowed to a stop, and they peered out. Hochstetter got out of his car and stalked over. "A flat! Bagh!" he growled. Looking around, he spied a group of prisoners working on the road. "You!" he yelled at them. "Get to work fixing this flat!"
"But you can't-"
"Oh, I can't?! It was an improperly mended road that caused this, and that's sabotage! So unless you would prefer to be shot-"
"Okay, okay."
Two prisoners began working on the tire, with the guards from the convoy watching them. Hochstetter paced back and forth angrily.
"Yes, Klink certainly put one over on Hochstetter."
Hochstetter stopped in his tracks. The voices were coming from the other side of the truck. He crept over and peered around; there were two prisoners with their backs to him, mending the road.
"What do you mean, LeBeau?"
"Well, Kinch, Klink heard that the spy is probably a double agent for the Nazis, and is planned to escape to England to spy for the Third Reich. But he didn't want to be the scapegoat!"
"I see. So he shoved him off on Hochstetter. Wow, how will Hochstetter get out of this one?"
"I'll tell you."
Hochstetter leaned closer.
"Hochstetter probably also knows that he's actually a double agent. So, I think that he staged this little 'accident' so that he'll have to take the truck back to Stalag 13, to fix it there. And then the spy will have to escape from Stalag 13."
"And Klink will take all of the blame. You have to get up pretty early in the morning to fool Hochstetter, I guess."
Hochstetter nodded, smiling slyly to himself.
"Sir?"
"Augh!" he yelped, jumping.
"We've mended the tire."
Hochstetter savagly turned upon the prisoner who had volunteered this information. "And now you'll un-mend it!"
"What?"
"You heard me! Take that tire off! I'm not going to trust you prisoners to mend this tire correctly! My guards will put on the old tire, and we will just have to go back to Stalag 13 to get it properly repaired. You heard me! Move!"
The stunned prisoners once again removed the tire, and two guards replaced the old one again. Hochstetter watched them, fists planted on his hips. He chuckled. "So that's how Klink wants it, eh?"
Klink hummed gaily to himself, once again bending over the paperwork on his desk. A shadow fell over the paper he was signing, and he looked up, annoyed. Then he jumped up, startled and frightened. "Hochstetter! What are you-I mean, I thought you had taken the spy to headquarters," he gulped.
Hochstetter smiled sneeringly at him. "We had a little accident on the road. We had to return to get the tire repaired. I'm sure you won't mind that I've ordered the prisoner placed back into his cell."
"I-" Klink drew his eyebrows together and shook his finger in Hochstetter's face. "Now see here, Hochstetter, I know what you're up to, and it won't-"
"Sir!" A guard clicked his heels by the door. "There's a problem with the prisoner, sir."
"What?!" both Klink and Hochstetter exclaimed.
"What is this man doing here?!" Hochstetter frothed. He pointed at Carter, who was standing in front of Klink's desk, holding his hat with both hands. Hogan stood next to him, arms crossed.
Klink shrugged. "You're the one who put him here; how would I know?" he said, triumphant.
"How did you get in here? Where is the other prisoner?"
Carter looked confused. "I don't know. All I know is, there I am mending the road, and some guy shoves a sack over my head. He was wearing a Gestapo uniform, so I was scared! Gee, I thought that you arrested me! But then we just drove right back here."
"A Gestapo uniform! You're lying!"
"I object, Major!" Hogan cut in. "You say that he's lying just because the man who arrested Carter was wearing a Gestapo uniform, and you didn't order Carter arrested, is that right?"
"That is right!"
"Well, haven't you heard of the secret secret police?"
"The secret secret police?"
"That's right. Of course, I've only heard rumors." said Hogan, darkly.
"What rumors?"
"That there is a secret police within the Gestapo. They're the elite of the elite, and they follow orders from even higher up. Some say that they report to Goering himself." Hogan paused for a second, and looked at Hochstetter, who had started and looked a little pale. "You know, like a gentlemen's gentleman."
"Except it's the Gestapo's Gestapo." added Carter, helpfully.
"Bagh! What nonsense." said Hochstetter.
"Well, I suppose. But, gosh, that sure was a spectacular getaway. You had you own guards all over the place, and not one of them saw him!"
Hochstetter pursed his lips. "Yes, my guards, well, hmm. Well, um, Klink, I don't supposed that this needs to be reported by you." Klink brightened visibly. He continued. "I can file an official report, since, I suppose, he was in my custody when he escaped. No need to trouble about it. I will have my men search the woods."
With another glance at Carter, Hochstetter stalked out of the room.
"Ah, ha!" said Klink joyously. "He deserves it! It's a good thing that I found out that he was a triple agent."
"Quadruple." said Hogan. "He escaped from Hochstetter when he was a triple agent, therefore making him a quadruple agent."
"A quadruple agent?" said Klink, astounded. "Isn't that rather high?"
"Oh, no, no, no. In fact, I've known agents to get into the hundreds, and you know, they end up turning them over to the other side just so they can stop keeping track."
Klink nodded sagely. "Oh, oh, of course. Well, it's a good thing I know so much about espionage; of course the first rule is to never tell all you know. Wait a minute! How do you know so much about this, Hogan?" He looked at him suspicously.
"Oh, the spy told me all about it." said Hogan. "We sat down and had a nice long talk."
Klink scoffed. "DIS-missed!"
Tintin looked up as Hogan climbed down the ladder into the tunnel. "Well, how did my escape go, Colonel?"
"Easy as pie, you got away without a hitch. It's almost as if you disappeared into thin air!"
Tintin laughed and put down the hand of cards he had holding. "And to think, I didn't even do a thing."
Newkirk took a cigarette out of his mouth and gestured with it. "I've just been teachin' him a card game."
"Oh yeah? What game is that?"
"Go Fish."
"Shocking."
Tintin stood up and brushed off his lap. "Well, Colonel, when will it be safe for me to leave?"
"Immediately. I hope that you aren't planning on staying in Germany?"
"No, I'm going to go after the man who was behind this, and something tells me that it's Müller; they might have some information about him in England, so that's where I'll head. It's been a plea- well, not really. But I'm glad that I met you." He held out his hand and Hogan shook it.
"I hope you find the guy. Well, Carter and LeBeau will show you out. Of course, you couldn't leave without saying goodbye to your biggest fan."
"Of course not! Not since I became your team's biggest fan!"
"Ta-ta, Tintin." said Newkirk. "It was nice meeting you. And your dog."
After saying goodbye to Kinch, and following Carter and LeBeau out the emergency tunnel, Tintin said goodbye to both of them. He thanked Carter for playing him during his 'escape', and shook the little Frenchman's hand vigorously.
"Goodbye, Tintin. Maybe we'll meet again someday," said LeBeau.
"I'll count on it!" replied Tintin. "Then you can tell me some of your adventures!"
They left him and Snowy in the woods, retreating back down the tunnel.
"Well, Snowy, let's get out of here." Tintin said, and they set off through the darkening woods, towards the little town Hogan had told them about where he could find help. They had just come upon a road when the moon burst out from behind a cloud, and with a start Tintin realized that there was a Gestapo officer standing on the roadway looking straight at him. But before he could make a move, the officer deliberately turned his back and shone his flashlight on the other side of the road. They retreated back into the woods, and walked on.
"That Hogan!" exclaimed Tintin. "He thinks of everything!"
THE END