Suddenly the Sub felt a hand laid upon his shoulder, and the pilot's voice speaking peremptorily:
"Who and what are you?"
Seton told him his name and rank.
"You'll take your oath on it. Proper jonnick?"
"Proper jonnick," declared the somewhat mystified naval officer.
"Good enough!" continued the R.A.F. pilot with a laugh. "Had to be on my guard, don't you know? Thought you were a Boche agent."
"Thanks," said Alec. "And what gave you that impression, may I ask?"
"Natural caution, that's all," answered the pilot. "Fritz has a nasty habit of putting a Boche in with a fellow as a sort of room-mate, merely to try and pick his brains, don't you know? Don't say it isn't done, 'cause it is. Your opening remark about my little stunt rather strengthened my suspicion."
"And what made you alter your opinion?"
"A fairly long period of observation," replied the pilot. "What settled it was the way you were taking your soup or skilly. Beastly rotten stuff, but a Hun couldn't take it silently—you did."