And Chance, his despicable errand performed, slid through the door in the same furtive way in which he had entered.
"If they haven't returned by eight bells, and there is no news of them in the meantime, I'll have to send out a picket to bring them in," mused the officer when Chance had departed. "Then disgrace and 'the brig' will follow, and two promising careers will be blasted. Strong and Taylor, of all people. I can't understand it. And yet there can be no other explanation of their absence."
Dismissing the matter from his mind for the time being, Lieutenant De Frees continued his official work. Outside on the field his subordinates attended to the morning practice of the flying squad. Half an hour must have passed thus, when a sudden knock at the door caused him to look up.
"Come in!" he said, in a sharper voice than usual. The news that his favorites had so fallen from grace had distressed him more than even he cared to own to himself.
In response to his words, the door swung open, and there, framed in the doorway, stood the two very individuals whose absence had so worried him.
Ned and Herc clicked their heels together sharply and gave the salute in a precise manner.
"We've reported on duty, sir," said Ned in a steady voice.
The officer looked at them blankly. Their clothes were torn, although an effort had seemingly been made to mend them and clean them of traces of mud and dirt. A bruise appeared on Ned's face, while Herc's hair was rumpled and standing up wildly. Their appearance bore out the story the officer had heard. Two more disreputable-looking beings it would have been hard to picture.
"So this is the way you men repay my trust in you?" said the officer in sharp, harsh tones, very unlike his usual ones. "You will both consider yourselves under arrest, pending an inquiry. Remain standing till I summon a guard."