"Okay, okay!" Dave growled. "Then where do we park?"
"Why, at the Savoy, of course," Freddy said with a sly grin. "I fancy our pilot officer's pay can stand it for one night. And that makes me wonder a bit, you know?"
"What does?" Dave asked absently, as he started studying a London timetable. "What are you wondering about now, my little man?"
"I was wondering where we'll be tomorrow night," Freddy replied.
"Somehow I don't even dare guess," Dave said. "And—Hey, get a move on, fellow! There's a train leaving Chelmsford in forty minutes. Let's grab that. It gets us in London just about in time to put on the feed bag. Gee! I wonder if they've got strawberry shortcake at the Savoy. Boy, can I go for that dish!"
"Good grief!" Freddy groaned. Then, in mock gravity: "Why, certainly, my dear fellow. Anything for a weary R.A.F. pilot, you know. After all, who else is fighting the blinking war?"
Dave heaved a book at him, but Freddy dodged it neatly, and then the pair set to packing in earnest. As they expected to be away only a day and a night at the most, they didn't put many "spares" into their bags. As a matter of fact, though, had the two of them been able to look into the future at that moment, they wouldn't have bothered about packing anything! Clean shirts, spare socks and handkerchiefs, and all that sort of stuff, were items they wouldn't be even thinking about in the hectic days that lay just ahead.
"Okay, I'm set, are you?" Dave presently announced, and clicked his bag shut.
"Right you are," Freddy called out, and shut his own bag. "Off we go!"
Dave caught up his bag and started for the door. When he reached it, he suddenly paused and turned around.