He looked suspiciously at the note.  ’I think that’s the name.  He’s a captain up at the Fleein’ School.  What was ye wantin’ with him?’

I charged through the booking-office and found my man about to enter a big grey motor-car.

‘Archie,’ I cried and beat him on the shoulders.

He turned round sharply.  ‘What the devil—!  Who are you?’ And then recognition crept into his face and he gave a joyous shout.  ’My holy aunt!  The General disguised as Charlie Chaplin!  Can I drive you anywhere, sir?’

CHAPTER NINE

I Take the Wings of a Dove

‘Drive me somewhere to breakfast, Archie,’ I said, ’for I’m perishing hungry.’

He and I got into the tonneau, and the driver swung us out of the station road up a long incline of hill.  Sir Archie had been one of my subalterns in the old Lennox Highlanders, and had left us before the Somme to join the Flying Corps.  I had heard that he had got his wings and had done well before Arras, and was now training pilots at home.  He had been a light-hearted youth, who had endured a good deal of rough-tonguing from me for his sins of omission.  But it was the casual class of lad I was looking for now.

I saw him steal amused glances at my appearance.

‘Been seein’ a bit of life, sir?’ he inquired respectfully.

‘I’m being hunted by the police,’ I said.

’Dirty dogs!  But don’t worry, sir; we’ll get you off all right.  I’ve been in the same fix myself.  You can lie snug in my little log hut, for that old image Gibbons won’t blab.  Or, tell you what, I’ve got an aunt who lives near here and she’s a bit of a sportsman.  You can hide in her moated grange till the bobbies get tired.’

I think it was Archie’s calm acceptance of my position as natural and becoming that restored my good temper.  He was far too well bred to ask what crime I had committed, and I didn’t propose to enlighten him much.  But as we swung up the moorland road I let him know that I was serving the Government, but that it was necessary that I should appear to be unauthenticated and that therefore I must dodge the police.  He whistled his appreciation.

’Gad, that’s a deep game.  Sort of camouflage?  Speaking from my experience it is easy to overdo that kind of stunt.  When I was at Misieux the French started out to camouflage the caravans where they keep their pigeons, and they did it so damned well that the poor little birds couldn’t hit ’em off, and spent the night out.’

We entered the white gates of a big aerodrome, skirted a forest of tents and huts, and drew up at a shanty on the far confines of the place.  The hour was half past four, and the world was still asleep.  Archie nodded towards one of the hangars, from the mouth of which projected the propeller end of an aeroplane.

‘I’m by way of flyin’ that bus down to Farnton tomorrow,’ he remarked.  ‘It’s the new Shark-Gladas.  Got a mouth like a tree.’