When the car had turned the corner of a block, Dave grinned at Freddy.
"Well, shall we make that black-out inspection tour you were yipping about?" he asked.
"The one we've made is enough for tonight!" Freddy grunted. "Besides, we've got to do something about these uniforms, because tomorrow we have to—"
"Yeah, I know," Dave cut in with a worried sigh. "We have to report to Air Vice-Marshal Saunders. Okay, let's see what we can do about these duds, and then hit the hay."
"If Goering's little boys will let us," Freddy murmured as he dropped into step. "And I doubt it very much."
CHAPTER FIVE
Air Vice-Marshal Saunders
Though Freddy Farmer had his doubts about Goering's "little boys," it so happened that they did not come back to London again that night. Bright and early next morning the two boys were up and inspecting what the hotel's valet service had been able to do about their uniforms. It wasn't a bad job of cleaning, but it wasn't a good job either. True, they would pass muster out at their own squadron, but the Air Ministry, where the Royal Air Force "brass hats" prowl about, was something else again.
"If Air Vice-Marshal Saunders is one of those fussy chaps," Freddy said, and fingered a fire-scorched cuff of his tunic, "he'll probably bleat all over the place."