"I suppose it is one of these," remarked his mother, opening one of the envelopes.
She read the contents, a puzzled expression on her face. Then, without a word she handed it to her son.
"Silly asses!" exclaimed Billy, for the wire was from the Admiralty expressing regret that Flight-sub-lieutenant William Barcroft was reported missing. "However, it doesn't much matter now. Would have been awkward if we weren't here to show that it's a mistake. Look here—handed in three days ago. Delayed in transmission. Didn't you get my wire from Holland?"
Mrs. Barcroft shook her head.
"I gave that rascally hotel porter a couple of gulder to take the telegraph form to the post-office," declared the flight-sub. "Ten to one he stuck to the tip and the money for the wire as well. Where's the governor?"
"He went out early this morning with Mr. Norton," replied Mrs. Barcroft.
"The fellow who got adrift on the night of the Zep, raid? He turned up all right after all, then. Where have they gone?"
"Towards Windyhill. They went rabbit-shooting."
"Windyhill? Where's that, mater?" asked Billy. "We may as well stroll over that way, Bobby. No, thanks, mater, we don't require any lunch at present. Had second breakfast on the train. You can hang out till one o'clock, my festive?"
"Rather," declared the A.P. "Let's go and meet Mr. Barcroft and help carry back the spoils."