The Air of Castor Oil

m the screw, that was it. I was lifting to meet the Fokker triplanes in the dawn sky. Then in a moment my Vickers was chattering in answer to Spandaus, firing throu

us wave. You can almost see the dueling scar on his cheek from old Krautenberg. He can afford to be chivalro

ister, but this is from

ss

snake in that fabric. At least it wa

n the stick, up under your tail, into the bl

ny can't be giving you a

I'm wav

od man. Come on. A little more. A little more and you can deads

ot en

what

si

uretor. I'll be in the W. C. until