"Come along to the Naval Club," suggested Holcombe, and the two chums made their way towards the rendezvous of the members of the Senior Service in Valetta.
"Do you know that chap?" asked the R.N. sub, indicating a tall, supple-framed, deeply tanned officer in the uniform of a flight-lieutenant, who was replacing a cue after the victorious termination of a "hundred up" with a tubby, round-faced engineer-lieutenant.
"Can't say I do," replied Farrar.
"Come along, then, old bird," exclaimed Holcombe, grasping his friend's arm. "I say, Barcroft, let me introduce my pal Farrar."
The two men shook hands.
"Seen you from a distance," remarked Farrar. "When you strafed the Hun that strafed us. I was on the old 'Tantalus.'"
A smile swept across Billy Barcroft's face.
"That so?" he queried. "The U-boat's rash persistence gave me a fine chance. So you are the Farrar my gov'nor mentioned in his last letters?"
"He was stopping in the same house—with Greenwood's people," explained the R.N.V.R. sub. "Yes, he looked absolutely top-hole. Grumbled a bit, though, because you didn't say anything in your letter about strafing U 254."
"I see they've let von Loringhoven slip through their fingers," commented Billy. "Wonder if he's been collared yet?"