"Do you think that is so, sir?" he asked in a voice of deep amazement. Then his eyes brightened. "I'd like to come with you, sir, if you think there's any likelihood of that sort of thing."
"I don't only think it, I know it," said John. "It may not be to-night, because of the full moon, nor to-morrow night. But some time or other, and maybe soon, I am prepared to bet my hat that a German will land from the sea. He will land, Ewins, in the bay below us, within a quarter of a mile of where we are now sitting."
The manner in which Ewins took this information filled John with satisfaction. The old soldier was spoiling for a fight. For four years he had had nothing better to shoot at than a target, and he was longing for a chance of real action.
Nevertheless John's fear was correct, for that night and the next night the moon shone brilliantly, and nothing happened on the shore. "Crumbs's" message lay unread in the bright moonlight. The third night, however, the sky was overcast.
But by a sudden, swift turn of circumstances John was not there to see what happened.
Manton's record on "Crumbs's" secret signal had been taken with the utmost seriousness by Dacent Smith, and on the afternoon of the third day, when John was alone at tea in the mess-room, an orderly thumped along the passage.
"A gentleman to see you, sir," said the orderly.
"What's his name?" John asked.
"Captain Sinclair, sir."
John rose, and a minute later Captain X. stepped into the little room. Captain X. was in uniform, and John noticed that he wore the Mons ribbon and the D.S.O.