Going down the stairs he all but fell over Rosa who was just going off duty.
“Oh, Tom!” she exclaimed. “Are you going after that plane?”
“Looks like I am.” Tom bounded out into the uncertain light of night. There was no moon.
Rosa, who was right at his heels, called in a low, eager voice: “Tom, take me with you!”
“What, a lady? It can’t be done!”
“I’m a soldier. I’ll handle the spotlight.”
“And the machine gun, too, I suppose,” he grumbled.
“Yes, and that, too. Tom, please take me,” she pleaded.
When the Seagull rose from the dark sea, Rosa rode in the second seat. Tom had extracted from her a promise of absolute secrecy, that was all.