"And so it did me," added his companion. "By the bye, where was your home before?"
"At Alderdene in Kent," replied Barcroft, somewhat taken aback at the question. "Why do you ask?"
"I thought so," was the composed reply. "And your name is Barcroft—Billy Barcroft."
"By Jove!" exclaimed the young officer. "How on earth do you know that? I'm afraid I don't recognise you."
"You always had a bad memory for certain things, Mr. Barcroft," the girl laughingly reminded him. "I felt almost positive it was you directly you spoke. You see, the uniform and you have a most characteristic helped me, manner of speaking."
"Have I?" asked Billy, still mystified. "And you have a good memory, I presume?"
"Fairly reliable," admitted the girl.
"Then let us hope that your recollections of me are of a favourable character," continued the flight-sub. "Now, tell me; what is your name?"
"There is no immediate hurry for that," she protested. "Before I reveal my identity suppose I remind you of some of your girl friends at Alderdene—Ada Forrester, for instance."
Yes, Billy remembered Ada Forrester very well—a short, podgy kid, he reflected, who by no possible chance could have developed into the tall, graceful girl by his side.