And when he had finished the little work of thirty-two pages, he turned back and read parts all over again, a terrific compliment to the shy and retiring author. He closed the book with a long sigh, sat upon his bed for half an hour and then went back to the pine table, took out from the débris of one of the drawers a bottle of ink, a pen and some notepaper and wrote laboriously and carefully, ending the seven or eight lines of writing with a very respectable representation of a skull and cross-bones. When he had finished, he drew an envelope toward him and sat looking at it for five minutes. He scratched his head and he scratched his chin and laid down his pen. It was eleven o'clock, and the mess would still be sitting engaged in discussion. He put out the light and made his way across the darkened aerodrome. Blackie saw him in the anteroom, for Tam enjoyed the privilege of entrée at all times. "His name? It's very curious you should ask that question, Tam," smiled Blackie; "we've just had a message through from Intelligence. One of his squadron has been brought down by the Creepers, and they are so sick about him that this fellow who was caught by the Creepers gave him away. His name is von Mahl, the son of a very rich pal of the Kaiser, and a real bad egg." "Von Mahl," repeated Tam slowly, "and he will be belongin' to the Roulers lot, A'm thinkin'?" Blackie nodded. "They complain bitterly that he is not a gentleman," he said, "and they would kick him out but for the fact that he has this influence. Why did you want to know?" "Sir-r," said Tam solemnly, "I ha'e a grand stunt." He went back to his room and addressed the envelope: "Mr. von Mahl." * * * * * The next morning when the well-born members of the Ninety-fifth Squadron of the Imperial German Air Service were making their final preparations to ascend, a black speck appeared in the sky. Captain Karl von Zeiglemann fixed the speck with his Zeiss glasses and swore. "That is an English machine," he said; "those Bavarian swine have let him through. Take cover!" The group in the aerodrome scattered. The Archie fire grew more and more furious and the sky was flecked with the smoke of bursting shell, but the little visitor came slowly and inexorably onward. Then came three resounding crashes as the bombs dropped. One got the corner of a hangar and demolished it. Another burst into the open and did no damage, but the third fell plumb between two machines waiting to go up and left them tangled and burning. The German squadron-leader saw the machine bank over and saw, too, something that was fluttering down slowly to the earth. He called his orderly. "There's a parachute falling outside Fritz. Go and get it." He turned to his second in command. "We shall find, Müller, that this visitor is not wholly unconnected with our dear friend von Mahl."