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."

"Heavy weather!" echoed the Major. "It\'s been perfectly calm here. What was the meteorological report for South-west England yesterday, Captain Wells? H\'m! \'Heavy squalls; wind attaining a velocity of sixty miles an hour.\' Hope Daventry didn\'t strike that and get into trouble."

"Aeroplane somewhere!" announced one of the junior officers.

There was a rush to the windows. Since the armistice there had been few air-craft in the vicinity of Sableridge, and when one did put in an appearance it attracted more attention than in those seemingly far-off days when the world was at war.

A deep bass hum, momentarily growing louder and louder, proclaimed the fact that a super-powerful aeroplane was approaching.

"A triplane—there she is!" exclaimed the Officer of the Watch. "By Jove, she\'s coming down! I\'ll have to turn out the duty-boat\'s crew."

He hurried off to the telephone, while the rest of his brother officers, many of them capless, raced out of the ante-room to the water\'s edge.

"Some bird that!" remarked one. "I believe it\'s a Yankee just across for the trans-Atlantic flight."

"Yankee my grandmother!" interrupted another contemptuously. "That chap knows his job, and he knows where he\'s landing. Look! He\'s making straight for the pier-head, against wind and tide."

Like an enormous hawk the triplane swooped down, coming in contact with the water with little more than a double "plop" and a small cloud of foam. Then, disdaining the assistance of a motor-boat, the giant sea-plane glided on the surface, coming to a stop within ten feet of the now crowded pier-head.

A coil of rope was dexterously flung and the end made fast; then, to everyone\'s surprise, the window of the pilot\'s cabin was lowered, and the head and shoulders of Lieutenant Derek Daventry were revealed.

"What have you been up to, old bird?" enquired Kaye, as his chum ascended the pier steps.

"Keeping late hours," replied Derek, with a prodigious yawn. &quo............