A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches. ‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. Things hung for a moment in an awkward silence. The father would be all steel. "Fly, Captain—fly!" Aroused to a sense of the possibility of escape, Jack, who had viewed the deadly assault with savage satisfaction, burst from his captors and made for the door.
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