"No, the poor devil jumped. Landed over there by the road. They carried him over to the hospital tent. Not a--a whole bone in his body." His voice seemed choked. "It's a--a fearful way to go." "A sporting way, I would say," Siddons spoke up. "Even in the last moment he rather cheated you, McGee. He escaped the flames, anyhow." McGee looked at Siddons searchingly. In those cold grey eyes and in the half-taunting smile there was none of the sympathy or natural, normal emotion that had so choked Hampden's voice. "He did not cheat me, Lieutenant Siddons," McGee said, his voice edged by his dislike of the man. "I am only one of the small factors in this unfortunate game. Duty may be pursued without wanting to see others suffer. He was a brave man. I salute him." He turned to Cowan. "Major Cowan, if your crew had attempted to extinguish these flames we might have added a great deal to our knowledge of the progress the enemy is making. I could not recognize this plane in the air. I think it is a new type." "By Jove! I never thought of it." McGee turned away to conceal an expression which he could not control, and as he did so he heard Yancey growl to Hampden: "What a first-rate kitchen police in a Home Guard outfit that bimbo would make!" As McGee walked back toward the hangar, Hampden and Siddons joined him. He felt Hampden give his elbow a congratulatory squeeze. Then Siddons said: "Are you going over to have a look at your fallen adversary, Lieutenant?" "Oh, I say, Siddons!" Hampden exclaimed, pained and surprised. "I am going to make out my report," McGee answered, simply. "I wonder if you would like to give me a confirmation, Lieutenant Siddons?" The question took Siddons off his feet. "Why--er--do you really want me to?" "Not especially; I just had a feeling that you would be pleased to have your name brought in it somehow." Several of the pilots followed McGee into the hut used for headquarters, but Siddons was not among them. Whatever his feelings, following the little instructor's pointed rebuke, he concealed them behind the cool indifference which marked all of his actions. At the door to headquarters he turned down the gravel walk that ran in front of the row of huts used as quarters and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. 3 McGee's report of his victory was characteristically laconic. Not a word did he employ that was not necessary to the report. No fuss, no feathers, no mock heroics. He had engaged an E.A. (enemy aircraft) and had sent it down in flames. Reading the report, one would find little enough to lift it out of the usual run of reports. Another meeting; another victory. No more, no less. Only in the last paragraph did he depart from his usual method of reporting. He wrote: