“How did you know the minefield was there?” asked Longridge. “Dutch ship blew up. ‘Matter of fact, she blew up on a stray one. I went to the position she’d given us, and before we started sweeping we were on top of Fritz’s eggs which he’d intended for you. Ah, well, we raked ’em up and I got my leave, so we won’t bear Fritz any malice this time.” He paused, glass in hand. “The King,” he said quietly. “The King,” murmured the others. “Yes, I got my leave out of that night’s work, too,” said the destroyer captain. “Rather damaged our classic profile, and had to dock for a few days to straighten the stem....” Beyond the open bay windows the blue dusk was closing down on the yews and scented borders. The long, deep drone of a cockchafer went past and died to nothing. The host sent the decanters on their second round and leaned forward a little in his chair. “It’s been jolly nice to see you dear old things again,” he said, “and talk over the War, as we swore we would some day when we were kids.” He paused. “And now there’s a toast I vote we drink. He--he’d have been here if this dinner had been a month earlier. As it is----” he raised his glass--“we can only drink to his memory.” No name was mentioned. They nodded; drank gravely, in silence and perfect comprehension. Brakespear, facing his host, broke the silence. “I saw him a couple of days ago,” he said quietly. “Eh?” ejaculated Jerome sharply. “But,” said Foster, “his boat was lost--oh, more than three weeks ago.” Brakespear nodded. “I know. But they salved her and brought her in, near where my ship was lying. Dacre--the submarine one, not his brother--went on board to make an examination and--and take the bodies out. So I went too, because he and I--I was very fond of him....” Brakespear reached for the cigar lighter. “What happened?” asked Mayhew. “We never hear any details of these things up north.” “Well, they got holed and sank stern first apparently. Stuck in the bottom. However, they managed to stop the hole up with clothing and tallow and stopped the inrush of water: but they couldn’t move the boat. Blew everything and shifted weights, but she wouldn’t budge. Then the first lieutenant volunteered to go out through the bow torpedo tube. They tied a message to his wrist and he crawled into the tube: they fired it with compressed air, as if he’d been a torpedo. They waited for a couple of hours, and then someone opened the tube door, just to make sure.... But he was still there--jambed....” The butler entered with the coffee, and the narrator was silent till he had gone.