"Answer your unasked question," replied Mac. "The green balls must have been south of Dieuze just as 'Mystery' said, for after leaving Mannheim I followed up the Rhine to Hagenau Wald, turned west and crossed the Vosges over Zabern; here we went above low clouds and I didn't see the ground again for over an hour. I steered my course all right, but was fearing a change of wind when just ahead of me I saw the Hun signal of two green balls come up through the clouds; as the last 'intelligence' placed these two balls at Morchange, I changed my course from 270 deg. to 245 deg.. It was only luck that about half an hour later a rift in the clouds showed me 'F' lighthouse, and as that is about thirty miles south of 'B' lighthouse, my original course over Zabern of 270 deg. must have been about right to strike 'B' lighthouse. So the green-ball signal, as 'Mystery' said, must have been moved from Morchange to south of Dieuze, and that is just what I was puzzling out when Dick answered the puzzle for me. He's queer, all right." And Mac called for another rum. And "queer" is the best description of Dick that any of the Bedouins could have given you, if you had asked them, until one night he was finally coaxed after many "treats" to tell about his earlier war experiences. "In 1912 I was a subaltern in the Indian army," Dick said quietly; "a row over a woman resulted in my court martial and disgrace. "When the war broke out I joined as a dispatch rider; I was wounded and was in the hospital for over five months. When I came out I succeeded in getting into the Royal Flying Corps and eventually was granted a commission. But as a pilot I was a complete failure; I 'wrote off' several machines and in my last crash I nearly 'wrote off' myself. I was unconscious for over a month and it was over eight months before I left the hospital. "I finally got back to France as a recording officer to a Handley-Page squadron; here I ran into an old pal of mine, and one night, when his navigation officer was sick, my pal took me on a raid without saying a word to any one. It was the first time I had ever been in a Handley-Page aeroplane and it was the first time I had ever flown at night, but my pal was the best pilot in the squadron and the way to the Gontrode aerodrome was an open book to him, for he had been there many times before; he took me as a passenger for the experience.