"No reason at all," Colonel Fraser said. "Only you put it wrong when you speak of luck. With you two luck plays only a minor part. Very well, then, let's get down to thinking out this thing, and planning the operation right down to the minutest detail. I have here all the latest maps and Recco plane photographs of that area." The sun had long since burned through London's early morning overcast when Lieutenant Faintor drove Dawson and Farmer to a hotel and secured rooms for them. He hung around until they had downed a good breakfast and were tucked away in bed. Then he grinned, gave them the V salute and went his way. "Well, did I win my bet, or did I win my bet, pal?" Dawson yawned, and pulled the covers up around his neck. "Eh?" Freddy Farmer mumbled. "Oh! That we wouldn't go to Kingston, or back to the Squadron, because the colonel had something in mind for us? Well, you lost it!" "What do you mean, lost it?" Dave demanded. "Quite!" Freddy said sleepily. "It was you who had something cooking for us, not the colonel. And now that we're alone, old thing, let me say that you are definitely mad, and absolutely balmy. But I'm quite used to that side of you by now. So don't feel hurt. And go to sleep, will you?" Maybe it was intentional, or maybe not, but the comment Freddy Farmer received on his words was a gentle snore. CHAPTER NINE _Eagles' Take-Off_ "The one thing I simply adore about dear old England is the weather," Dawson grunted, and stuck both thumbs toward the ground. "So delightfully refreshing. Now take this perfect spring night. Why, where else in the world could you--?" "Oh, shut up!" Freddy Farmer growled, and fiddled with the radio-jack of his helmet. "What's a little rain? Besides, it doesn't extend over Europe, the weather blokes assure us." "Little rain is right!" Dawson snorted. "So little it's practically a falling mist. But it falls, and falls, and falls. Boy, there's going to be two great songs come out of England, but the second one hasn't been composed yet. Too bad I don't know C sharp from a three dollar hat, or I'd compose it myself." "Well, thank goodness you won't!" Freddy snapped. "Your singing voice is bad enough. But what's the first song?" "_There'll Always Be An England_," Dave replied. "And the one that some guy is bound to write before this is over, will be entitled: _There'll Always Be Rain In England, Too!_" Freddy Farmer opened his mouth to make a fitting retort to that, but before he could release any words the door opened and an Air Forces lieutenant stepped inside. "Major Crandall would like to see you in the C.O.'s office, Captains," he said. "Major Crandall?" Dawson echoed. "He's down here?" "That's right, Captain," the lieutenant assured him. "And he would like to see you both." As the officer left, Dawson looked at Freddy and arched an eyebrow.