"Come in!" he barked. "Who is it?"
He looked up to see a tall clean-shaven lieutenant enter—a broad-shouldered athletic figure with a heavy jaw and twinkling grey eyes.
"Eh—Rainer, how are you, my boy? I was expecting the despatch officer."
"Yes, sir; but as I was at a loose end at the barracks I came myself. I'm joining the——"
"The Great Harry—yes, so you are. Well, it's a long time since I saw you. You must come and dine with us before you sail. Now, you'd better get off with these. I'm going to send you in the car." He pressed a bell and a seaman entered. "The big car at once, and the headlights. Tell Thompson to hurry up."
"Please, sir, Thompson's hurt his wrist, sir. Starting the——"
"Confound Thompson—he's always doing it. Why does he do it? Eh? Eh? You can't tell me? Tell Miss Ruth to get the other car round at once, d'you hear?"
"Now, Rainer," said the Admiral, "here's the despatch. Take it to Shortholme aerodrome, and bring a receipt back, d'you hear? and keep that girl of mine out of mischief. Come in!"
The door opened, and a slim leather-coated figure appeared. Rainer tried to keep his eyes on the Admiral, but failed dismally, his efforts resulting in a distressing squint. His flapper of two years ago was now a calm, self-possessed, and extremely pretty girl, who, in her rôle of amateur chauffeur, did not seem even to be aware of his presence in the room.
"The car is ready, father," she said, and vanished, leaving the startled Rainer gaping at a vision of neat black gaiters beneath her short skirt.