Rupert nodded and crossed the room. "I see you’ve got your name all right." Jim smiled. As soon as dinner was ordered the two men strolled down to the lounge, and then Rupert remembered to tell Jim the incident of the General he had forgotten to salute, and the scene he had had with the sergeant. Crichton laughed. "By jove, you might have got poor Jackson into a nice mess! But as you were carrying my bag and men are not supposed to salute when they’re carrying things, I’ll make it all right for you." At eight o’clock they made their way to the theatre and found Captain Sparkes and his friend already occupying one of the boxes. Four hours later they were walking beneath the starlit sky towards the Barbican. The captain was in a rare good humour with himself. They found the dinghy waiting for them at the appointed place. Sparkes and his passenger tumbled in unquestioned. The final farewells were shouted, the oars struck the water. The little boat pulled out and was soon lost to view. Jim Crichton gave a slight sigh of relief, and, turning on his heel, walked back to the hotel. At the bureau he asked for a telegraph form, and, writing out a message, handed it to the porter with instructions that it should be sent off the first thing in the morning. It contained three words. "Flight quite successful," and was addressed to "Marjorie Dale, Blackthorn Farm, Post Bridge." Jim turned in at once. For the first time he realised that he was thoroughly exhausted. But sleep did not come. A dreadful fear seized him lest he had written his message a little previously. Captain Sparkes’ boat was not due to sail until daybreak. Rupert would not be really safe until she was out of the Channel. Long before sunrise Jim Crichton was standing at his bedroom window gazing with anxious eyes over Plymouth Sound. A black speck on the blue horizon; a thin line of slowly drifting smoke! His glasses told him that the boat had sailed, and that Rupert Dale was safe. CHAPTER XXIV. RUBY’S DECLARATION. The first thing Jim Crichton did—after he had made a successful return flight to Netheravon—was, on getting five days’ special leave, to run up to London and search for Ruby Strode that he might keep his promise to Rupert. He resisted the temptation to pay a flying visit to Blackthorn Farm. Rupert was safe, a thousand miles or more away on his journey. But that made Jim the more anxious not to take the faintest risk. Despard had been suspicious. Despard disliked him, and was in love with Marjorie. Jim had received a letter from her—short, carefully worded. It dealt principally with the doings of Post Bridge and the radium mine. The company would soon be floated, the prospectus was prepared, and, she stated, it was confidently expected that when it came out the capital would be over-subscribed.