CHAPTER III

AT THE RESIDENCE Alaric swooped down towards the broad gravel drive, hovered a moment or two to see that all was clear, landed, climbed out of his moth and parked it under a tree. Discarding his coat, cap and gloves, and shaking his curls with pleasure at having no headgear, he walked up the steps to the door of the Residence. A man wearing the white uniform of the Republic, with red strappings on collar and cuffs, sat on the top step reading a newspaper. He was the sentry on guard. “Hullo, Mortimer!” Alaric addres…