They had coffee before they adjourned to the sitting-room. It was a low-ceilinged, soothing place with soft brown walls, low cushiony seats, a richly-glowing Persian rug, some brass, and a few pictures. Mrs. Cartwright's standing-desk at which she worked had been wheeled away into a corner near an old oak coffer. Its place was usurped by the tall stand of a gramophone. About this the young people clustered, talking "records" ... "I say, have you got that topping thing of George Graves's----?" "Not a talking one; Miss Walsh wanted something _pretty_----" "Well, what about 'The Naughty Sporty Girl,' Miss Olwen?" "Bai Jove, did you hear him in----?" "Heaps of room to dance, if----" "Look out, please," said Keith Cartwright, lugging at a heavy flat packet; and presently he put on a loud "selection" from some revue. It was under cover of this music that Captain Ross who had been carrying on with his Scots friend a conversation that seemed to consist of variations on the letter R, suddenly left him in the middle of a question as to the "Pairrrrrrrrrrsonnel" at the Honeycomb, and came up to Awdas, who was making his way to a vacant place on the arm of the couch whereon Golden was sitting. With some force, Captain Ross gripped him by the upper arm. In the tone of one who has been for hours storing up some accumulated grievance, he muttered, "Say, Jack. I've got to have a word with you. _Now_," he added, peremptorily, "Come out here, will you?" CHAPTER IX CHAMPAGNE AND THE CHARM "Here's to the Wings of Love, May they never moult a feather." Toast. Almost roughly he dragged Jack Awdas into the little entrance lobby, where, under a couple of mounted ibex heads, a carved oak chest was piled up with khaki caps, gloves, and British warms. The red silk-shaded hanging-lamp glowed down on the two young men reflected in a convex mirror on the other wall; Captain Ross's black head was therein enlarged until his figure had the proportions of a tadpole; his face showed the expression of a deeply-injured man, of one whom his friend had "let in" for something uncalled-for and gratuitous. "See here," he began abruptly. "I've got to tell you. There's something I know that I don't know if I'm supposed to know." Jack Awdas gave his husky boy's laugh. "Well, dash it, there are a few things that a Captain on the staff is supposed to know after all. '_Wearing red things round his hat, he's employed at this and----_'" "Don't rag, Jack. This thing's about _you_." Then, almost violently, "I saw you this morning." That red light glowed on a change in the fair one of the two faces as the young flying officer looked down upon his friend, "I say, d'you mean----?" "Yep. I saw you." Awdas, still startled, broke into another laugh. "Sorry, Ross. I didn't mean to steal a march upon you, you know. But look here, old thing, how the devil did you see me? You weren't there. Nobody was, ex----"