"Come inside and deliver your message.

What's the matter with your machine?
Been trying to wipe out the Germans alone and unaided, like the hero in a story book ?" Tom followed him in, clumsily telling the story of his exciting journey; "talking in chunks," as he usually did and leaving many gaps to be filled in by the listener.
"I'm glad I found you here, anyway," he finished, as if that were the only part that really counted; "'cause now I feel as if I can tell about an idea I've got.

I'd of been scared to tell it to anybody else.

I ain't exactly got it yet," he added, "but maybe I can help even better than they thought, 'cause as I was ridin' along I had a kind of an idea----" "Yes ?" "Kind of.

Did you ever notice how you get fool ideas when there's a steady noise going on ?" "So ?" said Mr.Conne, as he led the way along a hall.
"It was the noise of my machine." "How about the smell, Tommy ?" Mr.Conne asked, glancing around with that pleasant, funny look which Tom had known so well.
"You don't get ideas from smells," he answered soberly.
In the Quartermaster's office he waited on a bench while Mr.Conne and several other men, two in uniform and two that he thought might be Secret Service men, talked in undertones.