Descending to five hundred feet Derek brought the triplane head to wind, and then, "choosing his pitch", made a creditable landing within fifty yards of a quay. Then, taxi-ing to a buoy, the giant sea-plane was secured, but not before she was surrounded by a small fleet of motor-launches and rowing-boats. "I'll be back in two hours," said the Brigadier-General, as he boarded a Customs launch. He spoke as casually as if he were ordering his chauffeur to wait outside his club. "In the meanwhile, I expect that you will make all necessary preparations for the return journey--petrol and all that sort of thing." Punctually to time the British Staff Officer returned in a Spanish Government launch, and attended by a bevy of brightly-uniformed grandees and naval and military officers. His bronzed face was wreathed in smiles. He looked like a schoolboy granted an unexpected half-holiday. "I'm afraid I cannot let you into state secrets, Mr. Daventry," he remarked, when safely on board the triplane; "but, without divulging anything of a strictly confidential nature, I can tell you that my mission has been entirely successful. The result of my conference with certain Spanish authorities means the death-blow to Bolshevism in Spain, for, as you possibly know, there has been for months past a dangerous tendency in that direction amongst a certain section of the Iberian populace. Certain measures had to be taken instantly, and you have contributed in no slight way to their success. I congratulate you. And now concerning the return journey. How long will it take?" Derek glanced at his watch. "Where do you wish to make for, sir?" he enquired. "Anywhere you jolly well like!" rejoined the Brigadier-General boisterously. "S'long as it's Blighty the rest doesn't matter much. You're used to night flying?" "Yes, sir," replied Derek. "All being well, I hope to set you ashore at Sableridge depot at or about eight o'clock to-morrow morning." CHAPTER XXX The Choice At a quarter to eight on the following morning the officers of the Sableridge depot forgathered, according to custom, in the ante-room of the mess before proceeding to breakfast. Some were busy with their correspondence, for the morning post had just arrived. Others were studiously scanning the official notices on the board; while the majority were engaged in conversation on various topics. "Hasn't that young blighter Daventry telegraphed?" enquired the Major. "Wonder what stunt he's on? In any case he ought to have landed before dark last evening." "Nothing come through from him, sir," replied the Officer of the Watch. "Here's a report from Scantlebury announcing the arrival of R.A.F. 23 at Harwich. Jephson wires that No. 19 is detained at Falmouth owing to heavy weather."