At this moment the C.O. entered and put down a hockey-stick in the corner.

"Thanks for the stick, Jervis," he said, and turned to go. "By the way,
shall I see you at the orderly-room tomorrow before you go? What train are
you catching?"

The Adjutant hesitated for the fraction of a second.

"Well, Sir," he said, "I thought of taking the 9.5."

"I see," said the C.O. "Right-o. You won't be away longer than forty-eight
hours, I suppose?"

"Oh, no," said the Adjutant. "That'll do well, Sir."

A brief astonished silence followed the C.O.'s departure, a silence broken
by the excited tones of the Stunt Pilot.

"The 9.5?" he cried. "Are you going to _London_?"

The Adjutant lit a cigarette with some deliberation.

"Only just for forty-eight hours," he remarked.

"Forty-eight hours!" gasped the indignant Pilot; then, raising his voice to
surmount the din, "Forty-eight hours' leave in London, and you've just been
pouring out hot air about--"

"_Leave?_" interrupted the Adjutant, in pained surprise. "What d'you mean