"My dear fellow," Allison spoke with elaborate politeness. "We have a friend over in the flight office. He got himself transferred yesterday so as to be helpful to us."
"He couldn't be anyone I know," Stan said.
"But of course he is. He is a dear friend of yours. In fact you offered to punch his nose for him once."
"Not Garret?" Stan stared at Allison.
"Lieutenant Arch Garret."
"How did he do it with a blackball against him?" Stan demanded.
"Pull, my dear fellow, as the Americans say. A drag somewhere. Now he's sitting where he can retire Red Flight to a peaceful life, and if we do bag a bandit, we'll have to have an affidavit from the King to get credit for it."
"How about a transfer?"
"No go, he'd have a finger in that too. In fact, my dear fellow, I applied for a transfer and got turned down, all before breakfast."
Stan looked across at O'Malley who was on his last hot cake. He was beaming pleasantly, his eyes looking out across the room. He had paid no attention at all to the bad news.