"I prefer to suffer the penalty."
But already the admiral had turned away, not hearing the words.
CHAPTER XXXI.
SUBMARINES AT WORK.
"Glad to see as you're able to get about again, sir."
Constable Challis, patrolling the esplanade, had come to a halt beside an invalid's bath-chair in which old Mr. Croucher sat, gripping an unopened newspaper in his thin, white fingers. The bath-chair had been drawn up against the rail so that the invalid might have an uninterrupted view of the sea. Not far from it a boy in Sea Scout's uniform stood watching a company of Territorials busily digging trenches on the lower level of the denes.
"It must be quite a couple of months since you was out here last," continued the policeman.
"It is just two months and three days," returned Mr. Croucher, leaning back with a weary sigh. "It was on the morning after the first Zeppelin raid, you remember. Yes, I am much better; but this last attack has been quite the worst I have known—rheumatism, Challis, rheumatism. I should hardly have come out even on a fine morning like this, only that Seth Newruck, here, kindly offered to wheel my bath-chair, my man having enlisted."
He paused as if exhausted by so long a speech.
"I see changes, Challis," he resumed. "Many changes. Most of the villas are tenantless. People are at last realising the danger of an invasion. Even Mrs. Daplin-Gennery has taken flight. Where has she gone, Challis?"