Still living in hopes Barcroft had studiously concealed the news of his affliction from his parents and from Betty. His letters to them were as light and cheerful as of yore, yet he felt that they were a sham. Sooner or later, unless medical science was able to conquer the baffling case, he would be compelled to have to admit that he was--a useless encumbrance: those were his thoughts. Almost every one of his brother airmen had visited him since his arrival at the hospital, for the "Hippodrome," having returned to her base, was lying in harbour almost within sight of the huge building. Some tried, rather dismally, to be funny, hoping to cheer their luckless comrade; others were so sympathetic that they depressed Billy almost to a state of desperation. It was difficult to appear at ease in the presence of a deaf and dumb man--and Barcroft knew it. One afternoon John Fuller came to see him. It was the second visit that day. The lieutenant was practical even when in the presence of his afflicted shipmate, for instead of sitting down and laboriously writing out the preliminaries to a long-drawn-out conversation he drew a paper from his pocket and handed it to his chum. And this is what Barcroft read:-- "Congrats, old man. Just heard from 'topsides,' absolutely official: the battleship you strafed was the 'Schlesien,' complement 660. Our skipper has put in a claim on your behalf at 5 pounds a head. Unless the judge decides that the prize money is to be divided between the 'Hippo's' ships-company, which is unlikely, Kirkwood and you split 3,300 pounds between you. You are also promoted to Flight-lieutenant and have been awarded the V.C. and Kirkwood the D.S.O. You'll see that in to-morrow's _Gazette_." For a full half-minute Barcroft looked with strained inquiry at his chum. His head seemed whirling round and round, then like a roar from a cannon something seemed to beat upon his ear-drums. "It's too good to be true," he said. "Absolute fact," replied Fuller. "Bless my soul, Billy, you can speak!" "And hear, too," almost shouted the delighted newly-fledged lieutenant. "Come along, John; I'm off to the telegraph office. Keep on speaking, old bird. It's a delight. I hardly expected to hear you again." The hospital post-office was at the far end of the building. Entering the somewhat crowded room, Billy, with a trembling hand, filled in a form and gave it to a girl clerk. The girl took the form, counted the words and scribbled something on a piece of paper and offered it to the flight-lieutenant. "Thank you," said Billy smiling. "But it isn't necessary now, thank Heaven. I can both speak and hear." "I am glad, Mr. Barcroft," replied the girl, who knew all about the circumstances under which he had received his injuries. "Reply paid? That will be eighteen-pence. You may get a reply in an hour." The telegram that Billy had dispatched was to Miss Betty Deringhame. It was: "Am applying for leave. Will you fulfil your promise?"