Part 27 (1/2)
”A rather well known gentleman,” Cowan replied, tantalizingly. ”Both of you are quite well acquainted with Lieutenant Siddons, I believe?”
Larkin looked at McGee in astonishment.
”No, sir,” McGee replied to Cowan, ”no one in this outfit knows that fellow very well.”
”Quite right,” Cowan agreed. ”Lieutenant Larkin, I recall that you lost your old R.F.C. uniform a good while back.”
”Yes, sir.”
”And in the pocket was your old identification fold, and certain other papers? An old pa.s.s to Paris, for one thing?”
”Why--yes, sir. The identification card was there, but I don't recall what I did with that old pa.s.s.”
”It was there,” Cowan told him, ”and it grieves me to inform you that the uniform, and all that the pockets contained, was stolen by Lieutenant Siddons.”
”What! Are you sure?”
”There is no doubt about it. Furthermore, he delivered them into the hands of the enemy.” Larkin was too dumbfounded for words, but McGee displayed little surprise.
”So you have at last found out what I knew all along, Major?” Red asked.
”Not _at last_,” Cowan replied, with meaning emphasis. ”Your uniform, Lieutenant Larkin, will be returned to you soon--we hope.”
”Oh!” McGee jerked his head toward the door. ”So that's the reason for the M.P.'s. You are going to nab him?”
”Not exactly that.” Cowan was enjoying the curiosity provoked by the suspense he was creating. ”I believe both of you have heard of a certain German ace, Count von Herzmann?”
”_Have_ we!” Larkin replied.
McGee ran his fingers along a white scar still showing through the hair which had not yet grown out long enough to be the flaming red mop of old.
”Seems I've heard of him,” he said. ”And I seem to recall that one of his flyers left me this little souvenir on the top of my head. I'd like to pay the Count back--in person.”
”You'll never get the chance!” Cowan replied. ”But if all our plans work out, you will meet him in person soon--in this very room!”
”What!” It was a duet of surprise.
”Yes, here. Count von Herzmann in person--and in Lieutenant Larkin's long lost uniform.”
Both McGee and Larkin sank weakly into two convenient chairs, the expression on their faces disclosing that they were trying to select the proper order of the first of a thousand questions.
”Well--what's that to do with--with Siddons?” McGee at last found stammering tongue. ”Where does he come in?”
”He comes in a few minutes after the Count. He will land the Count in a field near here, let him alight, and then take off again and proceed to this 'drome. The Count, left alone, will doubtless make his way into the woods bordering the field, where he will promptly be nabbed. That little drama should be taking place now. For your information, the credit for this coup goes to Lieutenant Siddons.”
McGee and Larkin stared at each other, scarce believing their ears.
”Well what do you know about that!” McGee's half audible remark was the trite expression so commonly used by those who are staggered by a sudden revelation.
”I know _all_ about it,” Cowan said, actually laughing--the first time either of the others had ever heard him even so much as chuckle. ”I know all about it, and I've called you here for two reasons: I think you, McGee, are ent.i.tled to see the next to the last act in this little--ah--tragedy, I suppose it should be called; and I want Larkin to be present when his uniform reappears. I might need him for purposes of identification.”
”But--”