“Yes, sir,” said the soldier. “That’s why I’m here. Our soldier manning the gun at the point thought he saw parachutists. They couldn’t have been ours; we would have been told about it in advance had there been drills on of some kind.”

“Perhaps one of our planes went down,” said Old Tom. “And the men had to parachute to safety. Or perhaps it was the Americans.”

“Perhaps. But in that case they would come to the first house they saw, yours, thinking you might have a telephone. Or, if they knew where they were, they would come to the barracks,” said the soldier.

“Perhaps they already have,” said Old Tom. “If I were you, I would go back to the barracks to check.”

“Yes, sir, we will certainly check, and we have left a man there in case. In the meantime, don’t tell your wife, sir. It’s sure to frighten her. Or the children. Or Gladys. We think the plane may well have crashed after the enemy soldiers parachuted.”

“You know Gladys?” said Old Tom, changing the subject.

“Everyone knows Gladys,” said the soldier and then blushed. “She’s a heck of a poker player and, a, um, swell cook.”

“Have you actually eaten anything she’s cooked?” asked Old Tom in amazement but the soldier insisted on sticking to the point.

“The thing is, sir, we’re thinking it might have been spies.”

“What kind of spies?” asked Old Tom.

“Enemy spies,” said the soldier. “Japanese, perhaps. You’ve heard about the plane that disappeared up island? The Argot?”

“You can’t think this has anything to do with that?” asked Old Tom, all agog.

“We don’t know, sir. We’ll keep a soldier here to guard you, but if it’s Japanese spies, it’s doubtful they’d head here. More likely they’ve made for the woods, where they’ll hide until daylight. But don’t worry. The entire barracks is out scouring the coast for them.”

“You don’t think, perhaps, the gunner was mistaken? I mean, he might have fallen asleep and dreamt it. All alone, just watching the night sky hour after hour, these guards must drift off all the time. I can’t blame them. I’d sleep away my shift myself,” suggested Old Tom hopefully.

“Sir, my men don’t sleep. They’re made of sterner stuff.”

“How stern?” said Old Tom. “Define ‘stern.’”

But the officer could not be drawn into any kind of philosophical nit-picking. “And several of the men in the barracks also heard a plane.”

“Might they not all have been dreaming?” suggested Old Tom. He knew this sounded lame. He was doing the best he could, suffering as he was from the aftereffects of being gassed and all the other excitements of the night.