tte
Escadrille. Why, if they--"

Yancey's voice droned on, but McGee no longer heard what he was saying,
though to all appearances he was paying courteous attention. But as a
matter of fact his eyes were resting upon Lieutenant Siddons, and he was
cudgelling his brain in an effort to remember where he had seen him
before. The blond, curly hair; the rather square face and brow; the thin
lips, the calm, cold grey eyes; and the air of self-satisfied assurance,
all were part of a memory which was vivid enough but which refused to
come out of the back of the mind and associate itself with identifying
surroundings. Where had he seen that face? New York? No, not there. He
knew very few people in New York. Well, after all, perhaps it was only a
strong resemblance. But resembling whom? Surely no one of his
acquaintances looked like Siddons, at least none that he could remember.

McGee's gaze must have been a little too steady, at least enough to
prove discomfiting, for Siddons half turned away and began speaking in
whispers to Hampden. He talked out of the corner of his mouth, as one
who is ashamed of the words he utters, and McGee felt the stirrings of a
faint dislike for him.

Yancey reached the end of his monologue. The moment of silence that
followed brought McGee sharply back to the present. He smiled graciously
at the Texan.

"That's quite interesting," he said. "Strange I missed that order, and
stranger still that no one mentioned it to me. But we've been pretty
busy up in the Ypres salient--too busy to think much about what flag we
were fighting under. I've enjoyed being with the English, but of course
'there's no place like home'. I'm very happy to be assigned here, and I
am glad Major Cowan gave me this chance to meet you. The Major tells me
that you are to get several new Spads in the next two or three days.
Until that time, I won't disturb you. I'm driving back into town. Anyone
want a lift?"

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Hampden spoke up, "Siddons and I are going in.
Have you room?"

"Certainly. Glad to have you along. Major Cowan, how about you?"

"Sorry," the Major replied, dourly, "but I have to pay the price of
command by poring over a lot of detail work which would be spared me if
I had a more efficient staff."

Mullins, the peppery little Operations Officer, felt the full force of
the sting but he passed it off by winking wisely at Yancey. Why worry?
Cowan was always looking for work and for trouble. He