, in the former case, to ascertain why he had
not sent some word to his son, was the object of Tom's quest.

"I've tried and tried, from this end, to get in touch with him,"
explained Tom; "but something seems to happen to my messages. I know
they leave here all right, but after that they are lost. Now I have an
idea that there is so much going on in Paris--so much necessary war
work--that the ordinary lines of communication are choked. But if I
could go to the capital in person I could soon find out whether my
father was at the address he gave."

"And you want, do you, to go together?" asked the kindly French captain,
smiling at Tom and Jack.

"We'd like to go," said Tom.

"And go you shall. I will write the necessary order. You have done well,
and I understand you have some days of leave coming. To them I shall add
more. But come back to me," he added, as he filled out the pass form.
"Come back. We need you Americans now more than ever!"

"We'll come back," promised Tom. "All I want to go to Paris for is to
find out about my father."

"Ah, I envy you," said the captain softly. "Both in the possession of a
father, who must be proud to have such a son as you, and also because
you are going to Paris. It is the most beautiful--the most
wonderful--city in the world. And to think--to think that those
barbarians would sack her! Ah, it is terrible!" and with a sad nodding
of his head, following the shaking of an avenging fist toward the German
lines, he waved Tom and Jack an adieu.

The two Air Service boys lost little time in making their preparations
to leave for the French capital. They had to get certain passes and
papers, and they wished to say good-bye to some of their comrades in
arms. For, more than any other branch of the service, is aviation
uncertain as to life or death. Tom and Jack well knew that some, perhaps
many, of those who wished them "_au revoir_," and "_bonne chance_,"
would not be alive when they returned. And Tom and Jack might not return
themselves. True, their chances were comparatively good, but the
fortunes of war are uncertain.

And so, after certain preliminaries, Tom and Jack, their pet machines in
the hangars, left behind their beloved comrades and were taken by motor
to the nearest railway station. There they secured their tickets and
took their places to wait, with what patience they could, their arrival
in Paris.

The train was well filled with "_permissionnaires_," or soldiers on