For a full half-minute Barcroft looked with strained inquiry at his chum. His head seemed whirling round and round, then like a roar from a cannon something seemed to beat upon his ear-drums.
"It's too good to be true," he said.
"Absolute fact," replied Fuller. "Bless my soul, Billy, you can speak!"
"And hear, too," almost shouted the delighted newly-fledged lieutenant. "Come along, John; I'm off to the telegraph office. Keep on speaking, old bird. It's a delight. I hardly expected to hear you again."
The hospital post-office was at the far end of the building. Entering the somewhat crowded room, Billy, with a trembling hand, filled in a form and gave it to a girl clerk.
The girl took the form, counted the words and scribbled something on a piece of paper and offered it to the flight-lieutenant.
"Thank you," said Billy smiling. "But it isn't necessary now, thank Heaven. I can both speak and hear."
"I am glad, Mr. Barcroft," replied the girl, who knew all about the circumstances under which he had received his injuries. "Reply paid? That will be eighteen-pence. You may get a reply in an hour."
The telegram that Billy had dispatched was to Miss Betty Deringhame. It was:
"Am applying for leave. Will you fulfil your promise?"