ance ran eagerly over to the other plane, and out from its enclosed cabin stepped the man he had known as Praed.
Wordlessly, they gripped hands. Hay's thin, straight face wore a smile, and he met Lance's eyes keenly. Lance stammered:
"S-sorry, Captain Hay, about—about the way I treated you at the base. You see, I had no idea who you were."
Hay cut short his apologies with a laugh. "Rot! I'd've been the same way myself." He glanced rapidly at Lance's plane. "Got it?" he questioned. "I'm a bit late; had a hell of a time getting here without arousing suspicion. We'd best hurry."
Lance nodded. They hurried to the Goshawk. As they worked, carefully lifting out the Singe beacon, Lance, in crisp, short-clipped sentences, told his companion of Ranth, the spy.
"You don't know how much he got through?"
"Hm-m. Well, we'll have to trust to luck."
"You know the working of the beacon?" Lance asked. On the other's nod of affirmation he continued: "What's your plan?"