"You see," went on the latter almost apologetically, "I was practically defenceless against all those newspaper chaps with their note-books and cameras; I was surrounded and outnumbered. It's true I flung a pot of beef tea at one interviewer's head and made good practice with some medicine bottles among the photographers, but, though the enemy suffered several casualties, reinforcements were continually arriving."
Trent nodded sympathetically.
"'Tisn't as if they were good photographs either," he remarked. "They are absolutely like you."
Lawless shot a suspicious glance at his one-time subordinate.
"One chap," he said thoughtfully, "snapped me before I'd shaved. I'm going to drop a bomb on his office as soon as I get back to work."
As it turned out, honour and glory were not the only results the Lieutenant achieved by bringing down the Zeppelin; he unwittingly incurred a tremendous responsibility. News of this was broken to him by his uncle, a retired major, with whom he spent the last few days of his convalescence. Animated by a delicacy which his nephew fully understood and appreciated, the major for a time refrained from discussing the Zeppelin affair. But on the day before Lawless was due to report himself at headquarters he somewhat diffidently broached the subject.
"By the way," he said, as though it were a matter which had hitherto escaped his memory, "I wanted to speak about that last little adventure of yours."
"Yes?" remarked the Lieutenant unencouragingly.
"It's likely to cost me a thousand pounds."
"Eh!" ejaculated Lawless, sitting up.