"You vos surrender make!" shouted one of the Germans. "I'll see you to blazes first!" retorted Fuller as he frantically manipulated the starting mechanism. For once the accurately-timed engine failed to respond to the master-hand. A mutinous back-fire was the only result. Fuller tried again but ineffectually. The Hun submarine then thought it time to butt in. This she did most neatly but none the less completely by running her nose into the resistless structure of the jibbing seaplane. Her rate of speed was but three or four knots, but that was enough. Amidst the rending of struts, the crashing of the shattered floats and the harp-like twang of severed tension-wires the luckless 445B turned absolutely over and disappeared beneath the waves, leaving pilot and observer struggling in the water. "Dash it all!" soliloquised Fuller as he struck out for the submarine. "This is the second time the Huns have nabbed me. I'll bet there'll be a third. Just my rotten luck. Come on, old bird, half a dozen more strokes. They are going to heave us out of the ditch." CHAPTER XIV BUTTERFLY "I SAY, pater." "Eh?" ejaculated Peter Barcroft without looking up from his work, which happened to be revising a proof. "I saw Betty Deringhame last night. I forgot to tell you," began Billy as a "preliminary canter" to the recital of his raid-night adventure. "More fool you," grumbled his parent. "I beg your pardon----" began the flight-sub, rather taken aback not by his sire's brusqueness, for Barcroft Senior when engaged in the non-creative work of proof-reading was like a bear with a sore head, but by the off-hand manner in which he had received the announcement of the girl's name. "Look here!" exclaimed Peter, throwing down his pen and incidentally bespattering with ink the long, narrow sheet of printed matter. "Why on earth you want me to preach you a homily on the evils of betting----" "Betting?" interrupted Billy. "I said nothing about betting. What I said was: 'I--saw--Betty--Deringhame--last--night.'" Peter swung round in his revolving chair, and raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. "Did you?" he asked. "My mistake, but why did you murmur that most interesting news into my deaf ear? What's she doing in this part?" Billy duly reported the state of affairs. "Jolly hard lines on the girl and her mother, too," was his parent's verdict. "Of course women of all classes are making munitions now, and all praise to them for doing it. I am not referring to that, but to the fact that Mrs. Deringhame has had a come-down in life. Did you ever hear how it occurred?" "No," replied the young officer. "You see, I really didn't like to ask Betty, and she's too jolly brave to whine over her troubles." "Sit down and fill your pipe," continued Barcroft Senior. "No matches? Hang it, there were three or four boxes on my desk this morning. Here, never mind, use a spill." Billy laid a restraining hand upon his father's arm.