"Miss Joyce?—Miss Marjorie Joyce?"
"Faith, and they're the same, the very gurrls!" said Mrs. Murphy.
"I am sent by the First Lord, ladies, to give you some news, which I understand will be most welcome. Lieutenant-Commander Bernard Carey, Mr. John Carey, the two young gentlemen named Dickson, and Commander Carey's three sailors, Scarlett, Adams and Bosustow, have covered themselves with glory."
Doris was splendid.
"Ah!" she said, "we were waiting for this, my sister and myself. Are they, are they—?" She could not go on.
"Madam, they are all safe and sound. Commander Carey is slightly wounded—that is all. They have engaged in action with the great German battleship, Der Friesland, and sunk her. They have sunk a transport. They have evaded a flotilla of German destroyers. In short, they have saved England. Our flotilla came up just in time. The Admiralty have had wireless messages during the whole of the afternoon."
Hitherto, the officer—he looked thirty-five, was really fifty, and the son of a duke—had spoken formally.
"Then?" Marjorie sighed.
"Then, it just amounts to this. No more glorious deed had ever been done in the whole history of our Navy, from the days of Sir Francis Drake down to this moment. I was privileged to be at the Palace a few hours ago when the news was brought. Each member of the crew of the submarine is to receive the Victoria Cross. It is not only by order of the First Lord of the Admiralty, but also by express command of His Majesty that I have motored down here to-night to bring you the news. My instructions are to ask you if you will accompany me to-morrow to Harwich, for we expect and hope that, during the earlier part of the afternoon...."
"They will come back!" Marjorie shouted.