If we can get a taxi, I vote we take it." "Right-o," agreed Peter.

"You lead on." They tumbled out on the platform, and produced the necessary papers at the exit labelled "British Officers Only." A red-capped military policeman wrote down particulars on a paper, and in a few minutes they were out among the crowd of peasantry in the booking-hall.

Jenks pushed through, and had secured a cab by the time Peter arrived.

"There isn't a taxi to be got, padre," he said, "but this'll do." They rolled off down an avenue of wintry trees, passed a wooden building which Peter was informed was the English military church, and out on to the stone-paved quay.

To Peter the drive was an intense delight.