“Beg pardon, sir,” said ting at to ty officer’s compliments and can you come straight away?”

    Colonel  doerrupted s morning, and ried several times during to finis was a sign ache.

    “’s happening?” he asked, resignedly.

    ever o be good.

    “An aircraft, sir,” replied te, stolidly.

    “From Army hQ? Dropping a message cylinder?”

    “I don’t kno’s on the all.”

    “!” exclaimed  and stempting to rus, all at time.

    “Impossible!”

    But, ed  and got doo tion Post—an octagonal strongpoint t t out ter to y yards of t quite clearly  ernoon  o setting on t ty  tant airborne s he Old Kingdom.

    ty Officer cillery spotter’s binoculars,  of tion.

    to to ter Garrison—tapped he shoulder.

    “Jorbert. Mind if I have a look?”

    tantly, and en lollipop.

    “It’s definitely an aircraft, sir,” ening up as otally silent, like a glider, but it’s clearly poed, too. t, sir.”

    ans took up tance. For a moment,  see t, and ily panned left and rig ed, almost in a landing approach.

    “Sound stand-to,” ion struck  t o t—pere.

    ed by Jorbert to a sergeant, and t, to be taken up by sentries, duty NCOs, and eventually to   of the Officer’s Mess.

    It ly , till  to t distance. Sabriel, ter of Ab, o stand-do s clattering on ts and corporals sing—and it mig really be Sabriel. t  of the full moon . . .

    “Jorbert!” o tern.

    “Go and give tal Sergeant-Major my compliments, and ask o personally organize a secti