pect. His real plan was to stand behind
Hupfer, the Bosch Ace, and bash him on the head with a
spanner, while his (Hupfer's) whole attention was fixed on
me. We would then undress the fellow. I would take his
clothes, and we'd put him into mine. Hupfer's body (stunned,
not dead, we hoped) we would lay behind a pile of petrol tins. I
acting as pilot, would trust to my disguise and the darkness of
night not to be spotted when the two mechanics threw open the
hangar doors.

"Everything happened as we'd arranged, without a hitch--again,
all credit to Herter! When we'd hidden the limp Ace,
trussed up in my prison rig, Herter yelled to the waiting men, in a
good imitation of Hupfer's voice. We ran smoothly out of the
hangar, and were given a fine send off. How soon the Bosches
found out how they'd been spoofed, I don't know. It couldn't
have been long though, as my prison guard was in attendance.
The great thing was, we went up in grand style. Otherwise--but
we needn't now think of the 'otherwise'!

"Our next danger lay in taking the wrong direction, getting
farther back in Boschland instead of over the frontier. I kept
my wits, fortunately, so that turned out all right. Still, there
remained the chance of being shot down by the French, and
blown with our own bombs into kingdom come. But, by good
luck it was a clear night. No excuse for getting lost! And
when I was sure we were well over the French lines, I planed
down to alight in a field.

"The alert was out for us, of course, and a fierce barrage put
up, but I flew high till I was ready for a dive. We'd hardly landed,
when the _poilus_ swarmed like bees, but that was what we
wanted. You must imagine the scene that followed, till I
can tell you by word of mouth!

"I shall have made my report, and have been given leave
to start for a visit to my family by to-morrow I hope.

"Yours till the end,

"JIM."

"Yours till the end!" Rather a smart, cynical way of winding up those
"exhibition pages" was it not, Padre? The secret translation of that
signature is: "Yours, you brute, till I can get rid of you with least
damage to my parents' susceptibilities!"

I shall obey, and wait for the interview. It's like waiting to be shot
at dawn!

CHAPTER XXXII

I persuaded Brian to tell Father Beckett. I wasn't worthy. But the dear
old man came straight to me, transfigured, to make me go