Then suddenly he knew, and his mind froze with the ghastliness of the thought. If he’d been quicker--if he’d turned and climbed above Yardley when he saw him lagging, with the smoke squirting from his hit motor--he could have saved him. If he had kept his eyes open behind, instead of dreaming, he might have saved MacClintock, too. In a daze, he stumbled after Phelps-Barrington. That’s why Trent had hurled his helmet to the ground and walked off. That’s why Hoyt had shrugged and said, “Those things will happen.” It was his fault--his--Paterson’s. He’d bolted and lost his head and fired blindly into the empty air. He hadn’t stuck to his man. He had let Yardley drop back alone to be murdered. “Look here, P-B,” he muttered, “I’m not drinking.” He wanted to be alone--to think. So quick it had all been. Phelps-Barrington grabbed his arm and pushed him stumbling into the mess shack. Trent was slumped down at the table with his glass before him, thumbing over a newspaper. He raised his head as they came in. “Two more of the same, steward--double.” They sat down beside him and Phelps-Barrington reached for a section of the paper. “It says here,” said Trent, “that Eva Fay didn’t commit suicide. Died of an overdose of hashish she took at a party in Maida Vale the night before.” The steward brought the glasses. Trent raised his and looked at Paterson. “Good work, son.” Paterson stared at him in amazement. Trent sipped his whisky and went on reading as if he had never stopped. Some time later, Paterson left them and went down to the flight office to find Hoyt. The thought of the morning still bothered him, in spite of Trent’s words, and he wanted to clear it up. Hoyt smiled as he came in. “Washed the taste out in Falernian?” he asked. “Some. Look here, skipper--this morning--what about it?” “What about it?” “My part--I was fast asleep. I saw Yardley lagging, and I had a moment to cross above him, but I lost my head, I’m afraid, and went wild.” The smile faded and Hoyt laid down his pencil. “Do you really think you could have saved him?” “He was behind me already when I saw him lagging, just as you climbed and P-B dived.” “Then you couldn’t have helped him, because Mac was done for when I saw him and climbed, and half a tick after I climbed, P-B saw Yardley burst into flames. There you are.” “But if I’d kept my eyes back, instead of trusting to Mac?” “Look here,” said Hoyt, “no man can keep his eyes on everything. Something always happens in the place he isn’t looking. Bear that in mind and forget this morning. You’ve seen a dog fight from the inside and lived. Take it easy. You’re not here to do everything. You’re here to stick to us. You might have run away. Remember that and be afraid of it. Remember if you get away by leaving a pal--he may live to come back. Then you’ll have to face him, and engine trouble is a poor excuse.