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Crete,’ Bisset put in.
    ‘ - and a British fleet is in the Adriatic -’
    ‘Assembling for evacuation, I bet.’
    ‘ - Naval units, assault ships and A-lighters are being gathered.’
    ‘That makes it evacuation,’ Cotton said bluntly. ‘The assault ships are the Glen Line vessels and the A-lighters are tank landing craft. They carry a lot of blokes.’
    ‘And they’re bloody unhandy jobs into the bargain,’ Docherty observed, rolling a cigarette with his oil-stained fingers. ‘As far as I’m concerned, you can stuff ‘em where the monkey stuffed its nuts.’
    They’d all known that evacuation was inevitable but the news that it was now clearly a fact depressed them all a little, even Docherty.
    Later Bisset picked up Berlin and crouched over the set, listening with his head cocked, his eyes thoughtful.
    ‘Where did you learn German?’ Cotton asked.
    ‘At school.’
    ‘Can you understand it?’
    Bisset smiled.: ‘It was rather a good school,’ he said. ‘I even spent a year in Heidelberg - officially studying the German language, unofficially chasing the German girls - all at my father’s expense.’
    Cotton’s family had never had enough to send him even for a week to Brighton, and he frowned. There was something about Bisset that puzzled him. With the world falling about their ears, he seemed quite unperturbed.
    ‘I never know when you’re pulling my leg,’ he growled.
    Bisset beamed at him. ‘As a matter of fact, neither do I. And now I think you’d better fetch Patullo. They’re having a bit of a gloat about what they’re going to do and he might like to know.’
    Patullo and Shaw arrived in a hurry and listened with grave faces. ‘They’re hoping to get Junkers 87s on the Salonika airfields,’ Bisset said. ‘Supported by transports. They’re beginning already to move through the Monastir Gap and the Rupel Pass. They say they intend to seize the Corinth Canal.’
    He was about to say more when the harsh German voice started again. As it stopped, Bisset sat back. ‘They’re flying out to the offshore islands,’ he said. ‘They mentioned Aeos.’
    Patullo frowned. ‘Probably won’t affect us,’ he decided, but he didn’t sound too sure. ‘Aeos is a big island and the airstrip’s up in the north near Kalani. They’ll probably not get around to Xiloparissia Bay for a couple of weeks. With luck, we ought to be able to pick up what we want and get out before they notice us.’
    As the officers disappeared and Bisset switched off the receiver, Cotton studied him again. He’d met men like Bisset before - strange types from happy homes who’d decided on uniform and were content enough not to want to throw it off, indifferent to commissions or promotion.
    ‘Patullo’s a nut,’ he said. In front of a member of the idle rich like Bisset, Cotton was vaguely pleased to be associated with such a character and such wealth. ‘It was him got me into this. He once told me he took part in a Greek cavalry charge in some rebellion in the thirties and was allowed to keep his horse, saddle and sword as a reward. And I once heard the commander telling the captain that he’d interrupted a dinner at Shepheard’s by standing up at his table and reciting a Horatian ode in honour of a Cantacuzene princess who was one of his girlfriends.’ Cotton paused.’What’s a Horatian ode?’
    ‘An ode by Horace, I expect. He was an ancient Roman poet.’
    ‘And a thingy princess?’
    ‘A descendant of Cantacuzenus, I suppose.’
    ‘Who’s he when he’s at home?’
    ‘He became Emperor of Byzantium.’
    Cotton frowned. ‘You seem to know a bit too,’ he said.
    ‘It’s been noticed,’ Bisset smiled.
    ‘Are you married?’
    Bisset gazed at Cotton. The Marine was big and clumsy but there was something about him that impressed - if it were only his size.
    ‘Not much fun courting, getting engaged and all fixed up on Naafi notepaper,’ he said. ‘No, I’m not.’
    Cotton was still feeling his