For awhile he listened intently, replying with short-clipped affirmatives. Then he hung the headphones up and turned to the bewildered Lance. Colonel Douglas laughed again and rubbed his hands exultantly.
"What the hell—" Lance began. The other pulled out a drawer of his desk and took from it a small placard.
"Do you recognize the photo?" he asked smilingly.
Lance looked at it. It was the picture of a man in the uniform of a captain of the Air Force, a row of battle ribbons on his straight, khaki-clad chest. But it was the figure's face that Lance stared at.
"Sure," he said finally. "It's a picture of Praed. But what—"
"Not Praed," corrected the colonel. "Not Praed. Captain Basil Hay."
PART III
ood Lord!" Lance exclaimed without knowing he did so. Praed—Hay! The same man! Then that was the secret; that explained things! Hay, the hero of the force!
"You're entitled to a few explanations," Douglas said. "I'll give you the core of the whole scheme. There's no need to tell you that it must be guarded with your life." He drew his chair closer to Lance's.