"Bless my soul," ejaculated McIntosh, pointing to a cloaked figure descending the gangway, "'if that isn't my Sub! Wonder what he's doing here?"
He detached himself from the crowd and confronted Sub-lieutenant Jasper Clinch.
"Hello, Sub!" he exclaimed. "Got leave?"
"No," was the reply. "No such luck. The S.N.O. ordered me to Auldhaig. There's a Court of Inquiry about something. Has the train left yet?"
Jefferson nudged Cumberleigh in the ribs.
"Good enough!" exclaimed the R.A.F. captain, and to the surprise of everyone standing around, the two officers literally leapt at the astounded Clinch.
Before the latter had time to consider the situation he was lying on his back on the wet and muddy jetty, with Cumberleigh sitting on his chest and Jefferson gripping his ankles.
"Find the A.P.M., somebody," exclaimed Cumberleigh in an exultant tone; "or a picquet will answer the purpose. Now then, Captain Fennelburt, or whatever you call yourself—no, don't wriggle, it's bad form—there's no need to worry about the Auldhaig train. You'll soon be in safe quarters, my festive!"