that this time I'd have brought my Spitfire back whole and wouldn't have had to take a bath in the channel."

"I'll bet the spalpeen will get a scare when you walk into that hangar," O'Malley said with a grin.

Stan got to his feet. "I'm going out there just as soon as I get some clothes. I warn you, O'Malley, this is my fight. You stay out of it."

O'Malley's eyes glittered. "I niver could stay out of a good scrap, but if you wade into him I'm thinkin' there won't be anything left for me to do but pick up the pieces."

"You better keep a tight hand on your temper, old chap," Allison warned.

"I will. I'll have the low-down before I sock him," Stan promised.

A half-hour later, dressed in one of Allison's uniforms, and looking little worse for his ducking, Stan strolled into the hangar. Garret was not about so he went to the crew that had handled his ship. They were really glad to see him, he was sure of that. He looked them over and had a feeling none of them had had any part in the plot.

"Who gassed my Spitfire before she went out on the last raid?" His eyes moved from man to man.

A corporal stepped forward. "I did, sir."

"Was the tank full when you rolled her out?"

"Yes, sir. I rechecked. She was full up." The corporal was positive.

"Did you gas her up immediately before the flight?"

"No, we always gas up as soon as the Spits come in, so they'll be ready without delay. Sometimes they go right back up."

Stan nodded. He had known that. "Was the squad out for breakfast?"

A sergeant spoke up. "Yes, sir. Lieutenant Garret sent us all out together. Squad Four was on duty down the line and could keep an eye on things and shove out for us if a call came."