"That's the worst of these new-fangled shows," declared the Commander-in-Chief vehemently. He was a sailor of the Old School who did not take kindly to innovations. "When the R.N.A.S. was in existence we had good men who could fly. Now with this amalgamation it seems to me that for every effective pilot the Air Ministry grants a dozen commissions to men who never will 'go up' and who apparently have nothing better to do than to knock about in uniform doing work badly that a civilian clerk could do well, and trying to bluff people that they are the salt of the earth. Apparently Captain Fennelburt is one of this crowd, only the Air Ministry has forgotten his existence. I rather feel inclined to pooh-pooh the spy theory." The colonel suffered the Commander-in-Chief's strictures in silence. Although his career in the Service had been limited to a period of four years, his promotion had been rapid. He had a real pride in the R.A.F., but at the same time he knew that there was considerable truth in the naval man's assertions. Also he realised that it was both inadvisable and contrary to discipline to argue with an officer of superior rank. "Your best course," continued the Commander-in-Chief, "would be to send some one over to Abercuish Cottage Hospital to interview Mr. Pyecrust--I mean, Pyecroft. That is, naturally, if he is in a fit state to give information." Colonel Greyhouse inclined his head in assent. It was, moreover, exactly what he had already given instructions to be done. The colonel took his leave, and just as he stepped ashore at the Air Station a motor car dashed into the parade-ground. From it alighted Major Sparrowhawk. "I've seen young Pyecroft, sir," he reported with a salute. "He's going on well in the circumstances. The doctor informed me that he will be fit to be removed to-morrow." "That's good," commented the colonel. Together they walked a few paces out of hearing of the transport driver and the coxwain of the motor boat. "Well?" inquired Colonel Greyhouse laconically. "Dashed queer business, sir," replied the major. "Pyecroft is perfectly fit mentally, which, considering what he has gone through, is rather to be wondered at. It appears our fellows boarded a derelict lighter and while on board were surprised by a Hun submarine. Pyecroft got away, had a sticky time on a water-logged boat, and finally drifted ashore more than half dead with cold and exposure. The others, it seems, were taken prisoners by the Huns. And now comes the extraordinary part of the story. We had an officer here on inspection duties. Fennelburt--Captain George Fennelburt--he announced himself on reporting." Colonel Greyhouse nodded. "Yes," he observed. "I know that much."