Old Tom reached them a second later. He wasted no time but whipped his Swiss army knife out of his pocket and cut the children and Flying Bob free.

“They must have seen the parachutes,” he said, pointing to the lights like fireflies in the distant woods.

“They heard the plane,” said Sina.

“All right, quickly, Winifred, quickly, Zebediah, gather the parachute and take it back to the house. Wilfred and Franny are looking for a place to dispose of them.”

“I know where,” Zebediah piped up.

“Well, go tell Wilfred and Franny,” said Old Tom. “And then go to bed. We must all look as if we’ve been sound asleep.”

“But Daddy’s hurt,” said Winifred.

“Yes, he’s hit his head,” said Sina, gently examining the gash on the back of it. “He’s certainly had a concussion. How much more serious, it’s impossible to say. Old Tom and I will deal with it.”

Old Tom nodded as he whipped off his shirt, and Sina tied it around Flying Bob’s head.

“I can assess things when we get him inside,” Sina continued. “If it’s too serious and we must get a doctor, then we shall simply have to reveal the truth or think of a brilliant lie to explain it. I did nursing during the last war and saw a lot of head injuries, but I’m not a doctor. I think it doesn’t look too bad. If he recovers consciousness and we wake him periodically to check on him during the night, we may be okay to keep him with us and out of the hospital. But nobody must know we have him until we have a plan. For now, hurry, get rid of the parachutes and get to bed. Quickly!”

There was no need to say more. Old Tom got covered in blood despite the shirt wrapped around Flying Bob’s head. But he and Sina managed to get Flying Bob back to the house before the soldiers came. They got him into one of the maid’s rooms, where Sina bandaged him. Old Tom cleaned up the blood and dirt that was on the floor downstairs and then hightailed it upstairs to change into his pajamas.

“Turn off all the flashlights!” he hissed as we heard footsteps outside. “Now! And don’t make a sound!” Then he croaked frantically, “Franny! The parachutes!”

“Gone,” I whispered from my room.

I had no time to say more, for at that second there was a knock on the door.

Old Tom went slowly down to answer it, trying to appear as if he had just woken up. There before him was a soldier.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir,” said the soldier. “We thought we saw lights here at the house.”

“You may have,” said Old Tom. “We heard a plane, you see.”