"If there's nothing more----" began Thompson. "No, Thompson, go and get a sleep," said Colonel Walton. "Look after that arm, and take things easy for a few days." "Thank you, sir," said Thompson; "but I'm afraid I've forgotten the way," and with a grin he went out. "You've wirelessed?" asked Colonel Walton. "The whole story. They're bound to pick it up at Auchinlech." "And the Skipper?" "Oh! just what we actually know, I should say," responded Sage, and Colonel Walton nodded his agreement. "They're puzzled over those announcements withdrawing the reward," said Sage a few minutes later. "We ought to be hearing from the Skipper soon." "He's already been through while you were changing. I'm going round at five. You're coming too," added Colonel Walton, as he lighted a fresh cigar. "What about Finlay?" "Gone home to see his wife," said Sage. "He's as domesticated as a Persian kitten," he added with all the superiority of a confirmed bachelor. In another room Gladys Norman was fussing over a wounded hero. "Poor 'ickle Tommikins." she crooned, as she sat on the arm of his chair and rumpled the hair of Special Service Officer Thompson. "Did 'ums hurt 'ums poor 'ickle arm. Brave boy!" and then she bent down and kissed him lightly on the cheek, whereat Thompson blushed crimson. "Department Z. makes its traditions as it goes along," Malcolm Sage had once said. "It's more natural." CHAPTER XVIII THE RETURN OF JOHN DENE "It's very strange," murmured Sir Lyster Grayne, as he raised his eyes from an official-looking document. "What are the official figures for the last six weeks, Heyworth?" he enquired. "Seven certainties and two doubtful," was the reply. "About normal, then?" Admiral Heyworth nodded. "Then why the devil should the Hun get the wind up?" demanded Sir Bridgman, a look of puzzlement taking the place of the usual smile in his eyes. "What does the I.D. say?" "That during the last four weeks thirty-seven U-boats have failed to return to their bases as they should have done," replied Admiral Heyworth, referring to a buff-coloured paper before him. "That leaves twenty-eight in the air," said Sir Bridgman, more to himself than to the others. Sir Lyster nodded thoughtfully. "No wonder they're getting the wind up," mused Sir Bridgman. "The I.D. says that Kiel and Wilhelmshaven are in a state of panic," said Admiral Heyworth. "It's damned funny," remarked Sir Bridgman thoughtfully. "Structural defects won't explain it?" He looked interrogatingly across at Admiral Heyworth, who shook his head in negation. "It might of course be wangle," murmured Sir Bridgman. Sir Lyster shook his head decidedly. "The I.D. says no," he remarked. "They're doing everything they can to keep it dark." "Well, it's damned funny," repeated Sir Bridgman. "What does L. J. say?"