Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.The Raid on London.It was the night of the fourteenth of October, in the year 1915.Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere, with Roseye—who looked charming in pink—were diningen famillein Cadogan Gardens. The only two guests were Lionel Eastwell and myself.“Terrible—is it not?” Lady Lethmere remarked to me, as I sat on her right. “We were at the Lyric Theatre when the Zeppelins came last night. We heard the guns firing. It was most alarming. They must have caused damage in London somewhere. Isn’t it too awful?”“And at other places, I fear,” remarked Sir Herbert, a fine outspoken, grey-haired, rather portly man, who had crowned his career as a Sheffield steel manufacturer by receiving a knighthood. He spoke with the pleasant burr of the north country.“Well, the noise of the guns was terrific,” his wife went on. “Fortunately there was no panic whatever in the theatre. The people were splendid. The manager at once came on the stage and urged us all to keep our seats—and most people did so. But it was most alarming—wasn’t it, Herbert?”“Yes, dear, it really was,” replied her husband, who, turning to me, asked: “What were you doing at that time, Munro?”“Well, Sir Herbert, to tell the truth I happened to be out at Hendon with my friend Ashton, preparing for a flight this morning. I got hold of a military biplane which had just been finished and had only had its last tests that afternoon, but as I had no bombs, and not even a rifle, I was unable to go up.”“And if you had gone?” Eastwell chimed in. “I fear, Claude, that you would never have reached them in time. They flew far too high, and were, I understand, moving off before our men could get up. Our Flying Corps fellows were splendid, but the airships were at too great an altitude. They rose very high as they approached London—according to all reports.”“And the reports are pretty meagre,” I remarked. “I only know that I was anxious and eager to go up, but as I had not the necessary defensive missiles it was utterly useless to make the attempt.”“Nevertheless, I believe our anti-aircraft guns drove them off very quickly, didn’t they?” Lionel asked.“Not before they’d done quite enough damage and killed innocent old persons and non-combatants. Then they went away, and bombed other defenceless towns as they passed—the brutes!” said Lady Lethmere.“And writers in to-day’s papers declare that all this is really of no military significance,” remarked Sir Herbert, glancing fiercely across the table, a stout, red-faced man, full of fiery fight.“Military significance is an extremely wide term,” I ventured to remark. “London heard the bombs last night. To-day we are no longer outside the war-zone. We used, in the good old Victorian days, to sing confidently of our ‘tight little island.’ But it is no longer tight. It seems to me that it is very leaky—and its leakage is towards those across the North Sea who have for so long declared themselves our friends. Friends! I remember, and not so very long ago, standing on the Embankment and watching the All-Highest Kaiser coming from the Mansion House with a huge London crowd cheering him as their friend.”“Friend!” snorted Sir Herbert. “He has been far too clever for us. He has tricked us in every department of the State. Good King Edward knew; and Lord Roberts knew, but alas! our people were lulled to sleep by the Kaiser’s pretty speeches to his brave Brandenburgers and all the rest, and his pious protests that his only weapon was the olive branch of peace.”“Yet Krupp’s and Ehrhardt’s worked on night and day,” I said. “Food, metals, money and war-materials were being collected each month and stored in order to prepare for the big blow for which the Emperor had been so long scheming and plotting.”“Yes, truly the menace of the Zeppelin is most sinister,” said Roseye across the table. “How can we possibly fight it? We seem to be powerless! Our lawyers are busy making laws and fining people for not creeping about in the darkness at night, and asking us to save so as to pay ex-ministers their big pensions, but what can we do?”“Rather ask whom can we trust?” I suggested.“But, surely, Claude, there must arise very soon some real live man who will show us the way to win the war?” asked Roseye.I drew a long breath. She knew our secret—the secret of that long dark shed out at Gunnersbury which was watched over at night by the sturdy old Theed, father of my mechanic, he being armed with a short length of solid rubber tyre from the wheel of an old disused brougham—about the best weapon of personal defence that could ever be adopted. A blow from that bit of flexible rubber would lay out a man senseless, far better than any iron bar.“Well,” said Sir Herbert, re-entering our discussion. “The Zeppelin peril must be grappled with—but who can enter the lists? You airmen don’t seem to be able to combat it at all! Are aeroplanes too slow—or what?”“No, Sir Herbert,” I replied. “That’s not the point. There are many weaknesses in the aeroplane, which do not exist in the big airship—the cruiser of the air. We are only the butterflies—or perhaps hornets, as the Cabinet Minister once termed us—but I fear we have not yet shown much sting.”“We may, Claude!” interrupted Roseye with a gay laugh.“Let’s hope we can,” I said. “But all these new by-laws are, surely, useless. Let’s hit the Hun in his home. That’s my point of view. We can do it—if only we are allowed.”“I’m quite sure of that, Claude,” Roseye declared. “There are lots of flying-men who, if given bombs to-morrow, would go up and cross to the enemy aircraft centres in Belgium or Schleswig and drop them—even at risk of being shot down.”“Well, Sir Herbert,” I ventured, laughing, “the situation is not without its humour. I don’t know whether it has ever occurred to you that, in order not to unduly alarm the public, we may yet have certain regulations posted upon our hoardings that may prohibit Zeppelin commanders from cruising over England without licences; that they must have red rear-lights; they must put silencers upon their engines, and must not throw orange peel, paper bags, bottle or other refuse within the meaning of the Act into the streets in such a manner as to cause any danger to foot-passengers or create litter such as would come beneath the powers relegated to inspectors of nuisances of Boroughs. Such regulations might, perhaps, make it a penal offence if Zeppelins did not keep to the left in traffic; if bombs were dropped in places other than those properly and purposely illuminated for the purpose, or if they did not travel at a rate faster than the British aircraft.”“Really, Claude, that’s an awfully humorous idea,” remarked Sir Herbert as all at table laughed.“In addition, it might be suggested that the heads of all dogs, ducks, cats, parrots, and the horns of gramophones might be encased in cotton-wool to conceal their whereabouts, that no smoking be permitted, and no artificial light between one hour before sunset and one hour after sunrise.”“Exactly,” I laughed. “And an inter-departmental committee of the red-tabbed might be charged with the due execution of the regulations—all offenders to be shot at sunrise following the day whereon any breach of the Defence of the Zeppelin Act were committed.”“Really you’re too bad!” declared Eastwell, laughing heartily as he held his glass poised in his hand.“Well,” I protested. “Here we’ve had Zeppelins killing people. Surely something must be done! Either regulate the Zeppelin traffic, or else fight them.”“I’m all for the latter,” declared Roseye.“So am I,” was my remark.“And I also,” declared Eastwell. “But how?—that’s the question!”Roseye exchanged glances with me, and I wondered whether he noticed them.Somehow I had just a faint suspicion that he did, for I detected a curious expression upon his lips—a look such as I had never seen there before.He made no remark, but busied himself with the excellently-cooked snipe before him.Fortunately Lionel Eastwell was not aware of our secret—the secret of that brown deal box which we were so rapidly perfecting.Only on the previous day Roseye had been up in the air with me across Hampstead, Highgate, and out as far as Hatfield and home to the aerodrome, making a further test of the potent but unseen power which we had been able to create, and which must, if further developed, be our strong arm by which to strike a very deadly blow against enemy airships.“Personally,” declared Sir Herbert, in his bluff, matter-of-fact way, “I think the whole idea of air-defence from below is utterly futile. A gun can never hit with accuracy a moving object so high in the air and in the dark. What target is there?”“Exactly,” exclaimed Eastwell. “That has always been my argument. I’ve been interested in aviation for years, and I know the enormous difficulties which face the efforts of those who man our anti-aircraft guns. Searchlights and guns I contend are inadequate.”“They’ve hardly been tried, have they?” queried Lady Lethmere. “And, moreover, I seem to recollect reading that both have done some excellent work on the French front.”“But London is not the French front,” Eastwell protested. “The conditions are so very different.”“Then what do you suggest as a really reliable air-defence?” Sir Herbert inquired.“Fight them with fast aeroplanes and bombs,” Eastwell said.“But you’ve just told Munro that had he gone up last night from Hendon his flight would have been quite useless, as he would never have been able to mount sufficiently high in the time.”“Quite so. But we ought to have efficient air-patrols at night,” was his reply.“Combined with properly illuminated landing-places,” Roseye added. “Otherwise more than half the airmen and observers must kill themselves through landing in the dark without any knowledge of the direction of the wind.”“That could all be arranged—as it no doubt will be in due course,” I said. “The Government are not such fools as some people seem inclined to believe. I’m not one of those who blame the whole Government for a few mistakes of its subordinate departments, and the incompetency of men pitchforked, in the hurry of an unexpected war, into places for which they are entirely unfitted. We all know of glaring cases of that sort. No. Let’s take heart, and look on the best side of things. Britain is not vanquished yet, and the heart of the true Briton beats quicker and is fiercer than ever in its patriotism over the base enemy outrage of the kind that was committed upon innocent Londoners last night.”“Only yesterday I was reading a popular book calledCan Germany Win? written by an anonymous American,” remarked Sir Herbert. “The writer gaily informs the public that even well-directed rifle-fire can bring the vaunted Zeppelins down, and to secure any accuracy of aim themselves, the airships must descend to an altitude which brings them well within the range of modern guns.”“I know!” I laughed. “The rubbish written about Zeppelins is simply ludicrous. I’ve read that book, which has no doubt been read by thousands of patriotic Britons. I remember quite well that, in it, we are gravely informed that as far as Zeppelins were concerned the British public may sleep comfortably in their beds. The great thing is, we are urged, to discount as far as possible, by reason supported by scepticism, the terrorising tales of the Zeppelin’s worth and doughty prowess which are so brilliantly ‘press-agented’ in Germany. The writer has further told us that talk never broke any bones, and the Germans are doing a good deal of talk at the present moment to hide the defects in their monster pets which have been detected as useless by the test of War. The Zeppelins, the writer told us, are comparatively negligible quantities. Last night’s raid is the commentary.”“Yes,” said Roseye, “something must really be done to prevent such raids.”“But how?” queried Lionel Eastwell across the table in that slow refined voice of his. “It’s all very well to talk like that—but you mustact.”Roseye and I again exchanged glances. She knew well what was passing in my mind.And I remained silent.

It was the night of the fourteenth of October, in the year 1915.

Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere, with Roseye—who looked charming in pink—were diningen famillein Cadogan Gardens. The only two guests were Lionel Eastwell and myself.

“Terrible—is it not?” Lady Lethmere remarked to me, as I sat on her right. “We were at the Lyric Theatre when the Zeppelins came last night. We heard the guns firing. It was most alarming. They must have caused damage in London somewhere. Isn’t it too awful?”

“And at other places, I fear,” remarked Sir Herbert, a fine outspoken, grey-haired, rather portly man, who had crowned his career as a Sheffield steel manufacturer by receiving a knighthood. He spoke with the pleasant burr of the north country.

“Well, the noise of the guns was terrific,” his wife went on. “Fortunately there was no panic whatever in the theatre. The people were splendid. The manager at once came on the stage and urged us all to keep our seats—and most people did so. But it was most alarming—wasn’t it, Herbert?”

“Yes, dear, it really was,” replied her husband, who, turning to me, asked: “What were you doing at that time, Munro?”

“Well, Sir Herbert, to tell the truth I happened to be out at Hendon with my friend Ashton, preparing for a flight this morning. I got hold of a military biplane which had just been finished and had only had its last tests that afternoon, but as I had no bombs, and not even a rifle, I was unable to go up.”

“And if you had gone?” Eastwell chimed in. “I fear, Claude, that you would never have reached them in time. They flew far too high, and were, I understand, moving off before our men could get up. Our Flying Corps fellows were splendid, but the airships were at too great an altitude. They rose very high as they approached London—according to all reports.”

“And the reports are pretty meagre,” I remarked. “I only know that I was anxious and eager to go up, but as I had not the necessary defensive missiles it was utterly useless to make the attempt.”

“Nevertheless, I believe our anti-aircraft guns drove them off very quickly, didn’t they?” Lionel asked.

“Not before they’d done quite enough damage and killed innocent old persons and non-combatants. Then they went away, and bombed other defenceless towns as they passed—the brutes!” said Lady Lethmere.

“And writers in to-day’s papers declare that all this is really of no military significance,” remarked Sir Herbert, glancing fiercely across the table, a stout, red-faced man, full of fiery fight.

“Military significance is an extremely wide term,” I ventured to remark. “London heard the bombs last night. To-day we are no longer outside the war-zone. We used, in the good old Victorian days, to sing confidently of our ‘tight little island.’ But it is no longer tight. It seems to me that it is very leaky—and its leakage is towards those across the North Sea who have for so long declared themselves our friends. Friends! I remember, and not so very long ago, standing on the Embankment and watching the All-Highest Kaiser coming from the Mansion House with a huge London crowd cheering him as their friend.”

“Friend!” snorted Sir Herbert. “He has been far too clever for us. He has tricked us in every department of the State. Good King Edward knew; and Lord Roberts knew, but alas! our people were lulled to sleep by the Kaiser’s pretty speeches to his brave Brandenburgers and all the rest, and his pious protests that his only weapon was the olive branch of peace.”

“Yet Krupp’s and Ehrhardt’s worked on night and day,” I said. “Food, metals, money and war-materials were being collected each month and stored in order to prepare for the big blow for which the Emperor had been so long scheming and plotting.”

“Yes, truly the menace of the Zeppelin is most sinister,” said Roseye across the table. “How can we possibly fight it? We seem to be powerless! Our lawyers are busy making laws and fining people for not creeping about in the darkness at night, and asking us to save so as to pay ex-ministers their big pensions, but what can we do?”

“Rather ask whom can we trust?” I suggested.

“But, surely, Claude, there must arise very soon some real live man who will show us the way to win the war?” asked Roseye.

I drew a long breath. She knew our secret—the secret of that long dark shed out at Gunnersbury which was watched over at night by the sturdy old Theed, father of my mechanic, he being armed with a short length of solid rubber tyre from the wheel of an old disused brougham—about the best weapon of personal defence that could ever be adopted. A blow from that bit of flexible rubber would lay out a man senseless, far better than any iron bar.

“Well,” said Sir Herbert, re-entering our discussion. “The Zeppelin peril must be grappled with—but who can enter the lists? You airmen don’t seem to be able to combat it at all! Are aeroplanes too slow—or what?”

“No, Sir Herbert,” I replied. “That’s not the point. There are many weaknesses in the aeroplane, which do not exist in the big airship—the cruiser of the air. We are only the butterflies—or perhaps hornets, as the Cabinet Minister once termed us—but I fear we have not yet shown much sting.”

“We may, Claude!” interrupted Roseye with a gay laugh.

“Let’s hope we can,” I said. “But all these new by-laws are, surely, useless. Let’s hit the Hun in his home. That’s my point of view. We can do it—if only we are allowed.”

“I’m quite sure of that, Claude,” Roseye declared. “There are lots of flying-men who, if given bombs to-morrow, would go up and cross to the enemy aircraft centres in Belgium or Schleswig and drop them—even at risk of being shot down.”

“Well, Sir Herbert,” I ventured, laughing, “the situation is not without its humour. I don’t know whether it has ever occurred to you that, in order not to unduly alarm the public, we may yet have certain regulations posted upon our hoardings that may prohibit Zeppelin commanders from cruising over England without licences; that they must have red rear-lights; they must put silencers upon their engines, and must not throw orange peel, paper bags, bottle or other refuse within the meaning of the Act into the streets in such a manner as to cause any danger to foot-passengers or create litter such as would come beneath the powers relegated to inspectors of nuisances of Boroughs. Such regulations might, perhaps, make it a penal offence if Zeppelins did not keep to the left in traffic; if bombs were dropped in places other than those properly and purposely illuminated for the purpose, or if they did not travel at a rate faster than the British aircraft.”

“Really, Claude, that’s an awfully humorous idea,” remarked Sir Herbert as all at table laughed.

“In addition, it might be suggested that the heads of all dogs, ducks, cats, parrots, and the horns of gramophones might be encased in cotton-wool to conceal their whereabouts, that no smoking be permitted, and no artificial light between one hour before sunset and one hour after sunrise.”

“Exactly,” I laughed. “And an inter-departmental committee of the red-tabbed might be charged with the due execution of the regulations—all offenders to be shot at sunrise following the day whereon any breach of the Defence of the Zeppelin Act were committed.”

“Really you’re too bad!” declared Eastwell, laughing heartily as he held his glass poised in his hand.

“Well,” I protested. “Here we’ve had Zeppelins killing people. Surely something must be done! Either regulate the Zeppelin traffic, or else fight them.”

“I’m all for the latter,” declared Roseye.

“So am I,” was my remark.

“And I also,” declared Eastwell. “But how?—that’s the question!”

Roseye exchanged glances with me, and I wondered whether he noticed them.

Somehow I had just a faint suspicion that he did, for I detected a curious expression upon his lips—a look such as I had never seen there before.

He made no remark, but busied himself with the excellently-cooked snipe before him.

Fortunately Lionel Eastwell was not aware of our secret—the secret of that brown deal box which we were so rapidly perfecting.

Only on the previous day Roseye had been up in the air with me across Hampstead, Highgate, and out as far as Hatfield and home to the aerodrome, making a further test of the potent but unseen power which we had been able to create, and which must, if further developed, be our strong arm by which to strike a very deadly blow against enemy airships.

“Personally,” declared Sir Herbert, in his bluff, matter-of-fact way, “I think the whole idea of air-defence from below is utterly futile. A gun can never hit with accuracy a moving object so high in the air and in the dark. What target is there?”

“Exactly,” exclaimed Eastwell. “That has always been my argument. I’ve been interested in aviation for years, and I know the enormous difficulties which face the efforts of those who man our anti-aircraft guns. Searchlights and guns I contend are inadequate.”

“They’ve hardly been tried, have they?” queried Lady Lethmere. “And, moreover, I seem to recollect reading that both have done some excellent work on the French front.”

“But London is not the French front,” Eastwell protested. “The conditions are so very different.”

“Then what do you suggest as a really reliable air-defence?” Sir Herbert inquired.

“Fight them with fast aeroplanes and bombs,” Eastwell said.

“But you’ve just told Munro that had he gone up last night from Hendon his flight would have been quite useless, as he would never have been able to mount sufficiently high in the time.”

“Quite so. But we ought to have efficient air-patrols at night,” was his reply.

“Combined with properly illuminated landing-places,” Roseye added. “Otherwise more than half the airmen and observers must kill themselves through landing in the dark without any knowledge of the direction of the wind.”

“That could all be arranged—as it no doubt will be in due course,” I said. “The Government are not such fools as some people seem inclined to believe. I’m not one of those who blame the whole Government for a few mistakes of its subordinate departments, and the incompetency of men pitchforked, in the hurry of an unexpected war, into places for which they are entirely unfitted. We all know of glaring cases of that sort. No. Let’s take heart, and look on the best side of things. Britain is not vanquished yet, and the heart of the true Briton beats quicker and is fiercer than ever in its patriotism over the base enemy outrage of the kind that was committed upon innocent Londoners last night.”

“Only yesterday I was reading a popular book calledCan Germany Win? written by an anonymous American,” remarked Sir Herbert. “The writer gaily informs the public that even well-directed rifle-fire can bring the vaunted Zeppelins down, and to secure any accuracy of aim themselves, the airships must descend to an altitude which brings them well within the range of modern guns.”

“I know!” I laughed. “The rubbish written about Zeppelins is simply ludicrous. I’ve read that book, which has no doubt been read by thousands of patriotic Britons. I remember quite well that, in it, we are gravely informed that as far as Zeppelins were concerned the British public may sleep comfortably in their beds. The great thing is, we are urged, to discount as far as possible, by reason supported by scepticism, the terrorising tales of the Zeppelin’s worth and doughty prowess which are so brilliantly ‘press-agented’ in Germany. The writer has further told us that talk never broke any bones, and the Germans are doing a good deal of talk at the present moment to hide the defects in their monster pets which have been detected as useless by the test of War. The Zeppelins, the writer told us, are comparatively negligible quantities. Last night’s raid is the commentary.”

“Yes,” said Roseye, “something must really be done to prevent such raids.”

“But how?” queried Lionel Eastwell across the table in that slow refined voice of his. “It’s all very well to talk like that—but you mustact.”

Roseye and I again exchanged glances. She knew well what was passing in my mind.

And I remained silent.

Chapter Six.Theed’s Strange Story.The following morning while I was writing letters in my room Theed entered, saying that his father had called and wished to see me.A moment later the sturdy old ex-police-sergeant came in, his felt hat in his hand, and when I had sat him beside the fire I saw an unusual expression upon his grey, furrowed countenance.“I’ve come up, sir,” he said, “because something curious ’appened at the shed lars’ night.”“Happened—what’s happened?” I asked, staring at him.“Well—something I can’t quite make out, sir. But I thought I ought to report at once.”“Tell me, by all means, Theed,” I said, instantly interested.“Well, sir. There were strangers about lars’ night.”“Strangers! Who?” I asked, recollecting Teddy’s allegations on the night of our successful test.“Well—it was like this, Mr Munro,” the old fellow began. “I went on at nine o’clock as usual, and met Harry there. We talked together about half an hour, and then he left. I ’ad a pipe in front o’ the stove and sat readin’ the war news—as I always do. I expect I must ’ave dozed for a bit, but I woke up at eleven, ’ad another pipe and read a bit more of my paper. I heard Chiswick church-clock strike twelve, and then, after makin’ up the stove again, I ’ad another doze, as I generally do. Of a sudden I was woke up by hearin’ low whisperin’. My lamp was out—it ’ad gone out because I ’adn’t much oil. But I was on the alert in a moment, for I saw the light of an electric torch a movin’ about at the other end of the shed, and two figures were a gropin’ about and whisperin’. I’ll swear one was a woman!”“A woman!” I gasped. “What did you do?”“I took up my bit o’ rubber tyre, bent down, and crept noiselessly along. It seemed as if they were examining those three electric coils, and were perhaps a tryin’ to find the box what—”“Happily, I took the precaution to bring it away yesterday afternoon, and have it here, in the next room,” I interrupted.“Good. Excellent, sir! My idea is that they were after that there box. I’m dead certain of it,” old Theed said. “Well, I bent well below the benches and nearly got up to ’em in order to flash my lamp, an’ so take ’em by surprise, when, of a sudden, somebody clipped me hard over the ’ead, and I knew nothing more till I awoke at daylight, and found this!” he added, pointing to a spot on the back of his head upon which was a big lump and a large piece of black sticking-plaster.“Then there must have been a third person present—eh?”“There must! He’d evidently been a watchin’ me, and struck me down, just as I was a comin’ up to the pair with the torch.”“You say you saw a woman. Did you also see the man’s face?”“No, I didn’t. And I only knew that there was a woman there by the black fur she wore around her throat. I was right at the opposite end of the shed, remember, and I only saw ’er just for a second—a biggish woman’s white face and the black fur.”“You didn’t see the person who knocked you down?”“No, I didn’t—the cursed blackguard,” was old Theed’s quick reply. “Had I seen him, I’d ’ave given ’im a taste of my bit o’ rubber—I tell yer. He wouldn’t ’ave been sensible yet—you bet!”“But how did they get in?” I asked, amazed at his story.“Get in? Why, they seem to ’ave ’ad a latch-key. At any rate they opened the door with a duplicate key that they’d got from somewhere. There’s no sign of ’em having broken in.”For a few moments I stood in silence, then Theed’s son having called a taxi, I got in and took our faithful night-watchman down to Gunnersbury.There, on the spot, he explained to me exactly what had occurred in the night, giving a dramatic demonstration of how he had crept up to the intruders, and pointing out the spot where he had fallen, and where, indeed, there were some palpable blood-spots from the wound in his head.“While I lay ’ere, sir,” he added, “the three of ’em, of course, just pried into everything they wanted to see, and then went out, closin’ the door after them. It was just after eight this morning when I came to, and I tell you I felt quite dazed, and horrible bad!”“What time do you think all this happened?” I inquired.“In the middle of the night—between two and three o’clock—I should say.”Careful investigation which I made of the whole apparatus disclosed that nothing whatever had been interfered with—except one thing. Two wires connecting the big induction coils had evidently been disconnected, for they had been wrongly connected up, thus showing that the strangers, whoever they had been, might have made certain experiments with our plant.Happily, however, that big brown deal box had not been there, and I smiled within myself at the bitter disappointment which must have been theirs. In any case, our great secret was still safe.“Well,” I said. “You certainly had a most exciting adventure, Theed. We’ll have to set a trap for these gentry in future. Just think out something, will you, and Mr Ashton and I will help you. If they come again we might put in a little electric ‘juice’ which will effectively stop them from meddling with our things in future. They might get a very nasty jar,” I added, laughing.“But ’ow do you think they got hold of that duplicate key, sir?” asked the grey-haired old pensioner.I hesitated. The whole affair was a most complete mystery, and only went to bear out Teddy’s declaration that, on the night of our test, somebody must have been about and expressed sudden surprise at its astounding result.From the telephone call-box inside Hammersmith Broadway station I rang up Teddy at Hendon, and asked him to meet me there after lunch.This he did, and as together we walked away from the hangars, so as not to be overheard, I related to him the strange story, as told by old Theed.He stood astounded.“Somebody knows, my dear Claude! Whocanit be?”“Who knows? Only ourselves, Roseye and the Theeds. Nobody else,” was my quick reply.Then, suddenly, he said: “I suppose Roseye couldn’t have dropped any hint to her father? If so, the latter might have spoken to Eastwell—or somebody else!”“Roseye made to me a solemn promise of secrecy, and I trust her, Teddy,” I said very quietly.“So do I, my dear fellow. So do I,” he assured me.“Well—I can’t fathom the mystery at all. Evidently they were on some desperate errand—or they wouldn’t have knocked poor old Theed senseless—eh? And the woman! Who could she have been?”“Who knows?” I asked. “Nevertheless, we must make it our business to find out, my dear chap,” I added in earnestness. “We’ve got secret enemies somewhere—probably around us here. Indeed, that has been my firm conviction for some time.”“And mine also. So let us keep open eyes everywhere. Where’s Roseye? Is she coming over this afternoon?”“I expect her every minute. She’ll be astounded and excited.”“You won’t tell her—shall you? It will only alarm her, Claude—and I never advocate alarming a woman.”I paused. Instantly I realised the weight of such an argument, for Roseye was, after all, a dainty and highly-strung little person, who might worry herself over the mystery far too much.“Yes, Teddy,” I said somewhat reluctantly. “I quite agree. At present we’d best leave matters as they are, and keep our own counsel.”Hardly were those words out of my mouth when we saw my well-beloved, with face flushed in glad welcome, coming across to us. She had evidently arrived in her car, and already put on her air-kit, for, it being a fine afternoon, she intended to make a flight.The Zeppelin raid upon London had set the whole aircraft world agog. Every one at Hendon and Brooklands was full of it, most men criticising the air-services, of course, and declaring vaguely that “something must really be done.”It was so very easy to make such a declaration. Old men in their easy-chairs in the London club-windows were saying that very same thing, but nobody could, with truth, point out any real effective remedy against what certain Hide-the-Truth newspapers described as “the German gas-bags.”A lot of people were about the aerodrome that afternoon, and Teddy went off to test his engine, while Roseye, drawing on her thick gloves, mounted into her machine which her mechanic had brought out for her.“I shall run over to Aylesbury and back,” she told me. “I know the railway line. Shall you go up?”“Probably,” I replied, as I stood beside her Duperdussin watching her man adjusting one of the stays which he seemed to think was not quite tight enough. Then, a few moments later, she shot from me with a fierce blast of the exhaust, and in a few seconds had left the ground, rapidly rising in the air.I watched her for some minutes as she skimmed over the tree-tops and rose higher and higher, then satisfying myself that her engine was running well. I turned and crossed to the shed wherein stood my own bus, with the ever-patient Theed awaiting me.The Breguet was brought out, and with a few idlers standing about me, as they always do at Hendon, I climbed into the pilot’s seat and began to test my big engine. It roared and spluttered at first, but gradually, with Theed’s aid—and he was a splendid mechanic by the way—I got it to run with perfect evenness and precision.Why, I don’t know, but my bus usually attracted some onlookers. About the aerodrome we always have a number of idle persons with a sprinkling of the eternal feminine silk-stockinged hangers-on to the pilots and pupils who, not being able to fly, do the next best thing, become friends of flying-men. In that little knot of people gathered about my machine—probably on account of the Zeppelin sensation—I noted, in particular, one podgy fat-faced little man.As I strapped myself into the pilot’s seat, after examining my altimeter, compass, etc, and adjusting my self-registering thermometer, I chanced to glance at the people around, and had noticed the man in question. His strange-looking bead-like eyes fascinated me. Upon his round white face was a look of intense interest, yet those eyes, rather narrowly set, struck me as queer-looking and uncanny—eyes such as I had never seen before.Suddenly I wondered if their gaze upon me was some evil omen.Next second I laughed within myself at such an absurd thought. It was the first time in all my life that such an idea had ever crossed my mind, therefore I at once dismissed it. Such thought was most foolish and utterly ridiculous.Yet, again, I glanced at him, unable to withdraw my gaze entirely. Those dark, beady eyes of his, set slightly askew, were certainly most uncanny. Their gaze seemed cold and relentless, and yet at the same time exulting.Sight of them sent through me a strange creepy feeling, but, with resolution, I turned away, busying myself in my preparations for starting.Perhaps it was knowledge that strangers had been prying into our experimental plant out at Gunnersbury that had somewhat upset me, yet, after all, though they had cruelly assaulted poor old Theed, no very great success had been theirs.Who were they? That was the vital question.Just as I was on the point of starting I saw Lionel Eastwell coming from the hangar, walking behind his own machine, which was being pushed out by his man Barnes and two others.I waved to him from my seat, and he waved a merry greeting back to me.Then, all being ready, I motioned to Theed to let her go, and with a deafening rush I shot forward, leaving behind a pungent blue trail from the big exhaust.I rose quickly and had begun the ascent, the engine running beautifully, when of a sudden, before I was aware of it, something went wrong.A sharp crack, a harsh tearing sound, and one of my wings collapsed. Across the back I was struck a most violent blow just as she took a nose-dive, and then, next instant, all knowledge of what had happened became blotted out by a dark night of unconsciousness.

The following morning while I was writing letters in my room Theed entered, saying that his father had called and wished to see me.

A moment later the sturdy old ex-police-sergeant came in, his felt hat in his hand, and when I had sat him beside the fire I saw an unusual expression upon his grey, furrowed countenance.

“I’ve come up, sir,” he said, “because something curious ’appened at the shed lars’ night.”

“Happened—what’s happened?” I asked, staring at him.

“Well—something I can’t quite make out, sir. But I thought I ought to report at once.”

“Tell me, by all means, Theed,” I said, instantly interested.

“Well, sir. There were strangers about lars’ night.”

“Strangers! Who?” I asked, recollecting Teddy’s allegations on the night of our successful test.

“Well—it was like this, Mr Munro,” the old fellow began. “I went on at nine o’clock as usual, and met Harry there. We talked together about half an hour, and then he left. I ’ad a pipe in front o’ the stove and sat readin’ the war news—as I always do. I expect I must ’ave dozed for a bit, but I woke up at eleven, ’ad another pipe and read a bit more of my paper. I heard Chiswick church-clock strike twelve, and then, after makin’ up the stove again, I ’ad another doze, as I generally do. Of a sudden I was woke up by hearin’ low whisperin’. My lamp was out—it ’ad gone out because I ’adn’t much oil. But I was on the alert in a moment, for I saw the light of an electric torch a movin’ about at the other end of the shed, and two figures were a gropin’ about and whisperin’. I’ll swear one was a woman!”

“A woman!” I gasped. “What did you do?”

“I took up my bit o’ rubber tyre, bent down, and crept noiselessly along. It seemed as if they were examining those three electric coils, and were perhaps a tryin’ to find the box what—”

“Happily, I took the precaution to bring it away yesterday afternoon, and have it here, in the next room,” I interrupted.

“Good. Excellent, sir! My idea is that they were after that there box. I’m dead certain of it,” old Theed said. “Well, I bent well below the benches and nearly got up to ’em in order to flash my lamp, an’ so take ’em by surprise, when, of a sudden, somebody clipped me hard over the ’ead, and I knew nothing more till I awoke at daylight, and found this!” he added, pointing to a spot on the back of his head upon which was a big lump and a large piece of black sticking-plaster.

“Then there must have been a third person present—eh?”

“There must! He’d evidently been a watchin’ me, and struck me down, just as I was a comin’ up to the pair with the torch.”

“You say you saw a woman. Did you also see the man’s face?”

“No, I didn’t. And I only knew that there was a woman there by the black fur she wore around her throat. I was right at the opposite end of the shed, remember, and I only saw ’er just for a second—a biggish woman’s white face and the black fur.”

“You didn’t see the person who knocked you down?”

“No, I didn’t—the cursed blackguard,” was old Theed’s quick reply. “Had I seen him, I’d ’ave given ’im a taste of my bit o’ rubber—I tell yer. He wouldn’t ’ave been sensible yet—you bet!”

“But how did they get in?” I asked, amazed at his story.

“Get in? Why, they seem to ’ave ’ad a latch-key. At any rate they opened the door with a duplicate key that they’d got from somewhere. There’s no sign of ’em having broken in.”

For a few moments I stood in silence, then Theed’s son having called a taxi, I got in and took our faithful night-watchman down to Gunnersbury.

There, on the spot, he explained to me exactly what had occurred in the night, giving a dramatic demonstration of how he had crept up to the intruders, and pointing out the spot where he had fallen, and where, indeed, there were some palpable blood-spots from the wound in his head.

“While I lay ’ere, sir,” he added, “the three of ’em, of course, just pried into everything they wanted to see, and then went out, closin’ the door after them. It was just after eight this morning when I came to, and I tell you I felt quite dazed, and horrible bad!”

“What time do you think all this happened?” I inquired.

“In the middle of the night—between two and three o’clock—I should say.”

Careful investigation which I made of the whole apparatus disclosed that nothing whatever had been interfered with—except one thing. Two wires connecting the big induction coils had evidently been disconnected, for they had been wrongly connected up, thus showing that the strangers, whoever they had been, might have made certain experiments with our plant.

Happily, however, that big brown deal box had not been there, and I smiled within myself at the bitter disappointment which must have been theirs. In any case, our great secret was still safe.

“Well,” I said. “You certainly had a most exciting adventure, Theed. We’ll have to set a trap for these gentry in future. Just think out something, will you, and Mr Ashton and I will help you. If they come again we might put in a little electric ‘juice’ which will effectively stop them from meddling with our things in future. They might get a very nasty jar,” I added, laughing.

“But ’ow do you think they got hold of that duplicate key, sir?” asked the grey-haired old pensioner.

I hesitated. The whole affair was a most complete mystery, and only went to bear out Teddy’s declaration that, on the night of our test, somebody must have been about and expressed sudden surprise at its astounding result.

From the telephone call-box inside Hammersmith Broadway station I rang up Teddy at Hendon, and asked him to meet me there after lunch.

This he did, and as together we walked away from the hangars, so as not to be overheard, I related to him the strange story, as told by old Theed.

He stood astounded.

“Somebody knows, my dear Claude! Whocanit be?”

“Who knows? Only ourselves, Roseye and the Theeds. Nobody else,” was my quick reply.

Then, suddenly, he said: “I suppose Roseye couldn’t have dropped any hint to her father? If so, the latter might have spoken to Eastwell—or somebody else!”

“Roseye made to me a solemn promise of secrecy, and I trust her, Teddy,” I said very quietly.

“So do I, my dear fellow. So do I,” he assured me.

“Well—I can’t fathom the mystery at all. Evidently they were on some desperate errand—or they wouldn’t have knocked poor old Theed senseless—eh? And the woman! Who could she have been?”

“Who knows?” I asked. “Nevertheless, we must make it our business to find out, my dear chap,” I added in earnestness. “We’ve got secret enemies somewhere—probably around us here. Indeed, that has been my firm conviction for some time.”

“And mine also. So let us keep open eyes everywhere. Where’s Roseye? Is she coming over this afternoon?”

“I expect her every minute. She’ll be astounded and excited.”

“You won’t tell her—shall you? It will only alarm her, Claude—and I never advocate alarming a woman.”

I paused. Instantly I realised the weight of such an argument, for Roseye was, after all, a dainty and highly-strung little person, who might worry herself over the mystery far too much.

“Yes, Teddy,” I said somewhat reluctantly. “I quite agree. At present we’d best leave matters as they are, and keep our own counsel.”

Hardly were those words out of my mouth when we saw my well-beloved, with face flushed in glad welcome, coming across to us. She had evidently arrived in her car, and already put on her air-kit, for, it being a fine afternoon, she intended to make a flight.

The Zeppelin raid upon London had set the whole aircraft world agog. Every one at Hendon and Brooklands was full of it, most men criticising the air-services, of course, and declaring vaguely that “something must really be done.”

It was so very easy to make such a declaration. Old men in their easy-chairs in the London club-windows were saying that very same thing, but nobody could, with truth, point out any real effective remedy against what certain Hide-the-Truth newspapers described as “the German gas-bags.”

A lot of people were about the aerodrome that afternoon, and Teddy went off to test his engine, while Roseye, drawing on her thick gloves, mounted into her machine which her mechanic had brought out for her.

“I shall run over to Aylesbury and back,” she told me. “I know the railway line. Shall you go up?”

“Probably,” I replied, as I stood beside her Duperdussin watching her man adjusting one of the stays which he seemed to think was not quite tight enough. Then, a few moments later, she shot from me with a fierce blast of the exhaust, and in a few seconds had left the ground, rapidly rising in the air.

I watched her for some minutes as she skimmed over the tree-tops and rose higher and higher, then satisfying myself that her engine was running well. I turned and crossed to the shed wherein stood my own bus, with the ever-patient Theed awaiting me.

The Breguet was brought out, and with a few idlers standing about me, as they always do at Hendon, I climbed into the pilot’s seat and began to test my big engine. It roared and spluttered at first, but gradually, with Theed’s aid—and he was a splendid mechanic by the way—I got it to run with perfect evenness and precision.

Why, I don’t know, but my bus usually attracted some onlookers. About the aerodrome we always have a number of idle persons with a sprinkling of the eternal feminine silk-stockinged hangers-on to the pilots and pupils who, not being able to fly, do the next best thing, become friends of flying-men. In that little knot of people gathered about my machine—probably on account of the Zeppelin sensation—I noted, in particular, one podgy fat-faced little man.

As I strapped myself into the pilot’s seat, after examining my altimeter, compass, etc, and adjusting my self-registering thermometer, I chanced to glance at the people around, and had noticed the man in question. His strange-looking bead-like eyes fascinated me. Upon his round white face was a look of intense interest, yet those eyes, rather narrowly set, struck me as queer-looking and uncanny—eyes such as I had never seen before.

Suddenly I wondered if their gaze upon me was some evil omen.

Next second I laughed within myself at such an absurd thought. It was the first time in all my life that such an idea had ever crossed my mind, therefore I at once dismissed it. Such thought was most foolish and utterly ridiculous.

Yet, again, I glanced at him, unable to withdraw my gaze entirely. Those dark, beady eyes of his, set slightly askew, were certainly most uncanny. Their gaze seemed cold and relentless, and yet at the same time exulting.

Sight of them sent through me a strange creepy feeling, but, with resolution, I turned away, busying myself in my preparations for starting.

Perhaps it was knowledge that strangers had been prying into our experimental plant out at Gunnersbury that had somewhat upset me, yet, after all, though they had cruelly assaulted poor old Theed, no very great success had been theirs.

Who were they? That was the vital question.

Just as I was on the point of starting I saw Lionel Eastwell coming from the hangar, walking behind his own machine, which was being pushed out by his man Barnes and two others.

I waved to him from my seat, and he waved a merry greeting back to me.

Then, all being ready, I motioned to Theed to let her go, and with a deafening rush I shot forward, leaving behind a pungent blue trail from the big exhaust.

I rose quickly and had begun the ascent, the engine running beautifully, when of a sudden, before I was aware of it, something went wrong.

A sharp crack, a harsh tearing sound, and one of my wings collapsed. Across the back I was struck a most violent blow just as she took a nose-dive, and then, next instant, all knowledge of what had happened became blotted out by a dark night of unconsciousness.

Chapter Seven.Reveals a Plot.The next that I recollect is, with my brain awhirl, I tried to open my eyes, but so painful were they, that I was compelled to close them again in fearful agony.Somebody whispered close to me, but my mind was too muddled to understand what was said.My eyes burned in their sockets; my brain seemed unbalanced and aflame. I tried to think, but alas! could not. When I tried to recollect, all remembrance of the past seemed as though it were wrapped up in cotton-wool.How long I remained in that comatose state I have no idea.Some unknown hand forced between my teeth a few drops of liquid, which with difficulty I swallowed. This revived me, I know, for slowly—very slowly—the frightful pain across my brow decreased, and my burning eyes became easier until, at last, blinking, I managed to open them just a little.All was dead white before me—the white wall of a hospital-ward I eventually discovered it to be—and as I gazed slowly around, still dazed and wondering, I saw a man in black, a doctor, with two nurses standing anxiously beside my bed.“Hulloa, Mr Munro,” he exclaimed softly. “You’re better now, aren’t you?”“Yes,” I whispered. “But—but where am I?”“Never mind where you are. Just go to sleep again for a bit,” the doctor urged. “You’re all right—and you’ll very soon be up again, which is the one thing that matters,” I heard him say.“But, tell me—” I articulated with great difficulty.“I shan’t tell you anything, just yet,” said the man in black firmly. “Just go to sleep again, and don’t worry. Here. Take this,” and he placed a little medicine-glass to my parched lips.The effect of the drug was sleep—a long sleep it must have been—for when I again awoke it was night, and I saw a stout, middle-aged night-nurse seated at my side, reading beneath a green-shaded lamp.As soon as she noticed me moving she gave me another draught, and then, thoroughly revived, I inquired of her what had actually happened.I saw her motion to some one behind her, and next moment found Roseye bending over me, pale-faced and anxious.“Oh! I’m so glad, dear,” she whispered eagerly into my ear. “Once we thought you would never recover, and—and I’ve been watching and waiting all the time. They wouldn’t let me see you until to-night. Teddy has been here constantly, and he only left at midnight.”“But—darling—but what has happened?” I managed to ask, looking up into those dear eyes of hers utterly amazed.“May I tell him, nurse?” she inquired, turning to the buxom woman beside her.The nurse nodded assent, whereupon she said:“Well—you’ve had a nasty spill! One of your wings suddenly buckled—and you fell. It’s a perfect miracle that you were not killed. I saw the accident just as I was going up in a spiral, and came down again as fast as ever I could. When I reached you, I found you pinned beneath the engine, and everybody believed you to be stone-dead. But, happily, they got you out—and brought you here.”“What is this place?” I asked, gazing around in wonderment. “Where am I?”“The Hendon Cottage Hospital,” was her reply.“How long have I been here?”“Four days. The papers have had a lot about your accident.”“The papers make a lot of ado about nothing,” I replied, smiling. “To them, every airman who happens to have a nose-dive is a hero. But how did it happen?”“Nobody knows. You seemed to be ascending all right, when suddenly I saw your right-hand plane collapse, and you came down plumb,” she said. “As you may imagine, darling, I rushed back, fearing the worst, and through these four awful days I have dreaded that you might never speak to me again.”“What does Theed say?”“What can he say? He has declared that before you started everything was perfectly in order.”“Has Teddy examined the bus?”“I think so, but he’s entirely mystified—just as we all are,” said my well-beloved. “Dad and mother are dreadfully worried about you.”“Thanks,” I replied. “I’ll be all right soon—but I’m stiff—jolly stiff, I can tell you!”“That doesn’t matter,” said the nurse cheerily. “No bones are broken, and Doctor Walford has said that you’ll be up again very soon.”“Well—thanks for that,” I replied with a smile. “My chief desire at the present moment is to know why my machine failed. Yet I suppose I ought to be thankful to Providence that I wasn’t killed—eh?”“Yes, Claude, you ought. Your smash was a very bad one indeed.”“Has the guv’nor been here?”“Every day. But of course you’ve been under Doctor Walford, and he’s not allowed anyone to see you.”“I suppose the guv’nor has been saying to everybody, ‘I told you so,’” I remarked. “He had always said I’d kill myself, sooner or later. My reply was that I’d either fly, or kill myself in the attempt. Have there been any more Zeppelin raids while I’ve been lying here?”“No raids, but gossip has it that Zeppelins have been as far as the coast and were afterwards driven off by our anti-aircraft guns.”“Good. When will Teddy be here?” I asked, raising myself with considerable difficulty.“In the morning,” was my love’s response, as she took my hand in hers, stroking it softly, after which I raised her slim fingers to my lips.Seeing this, the nurse discreetly left us, strolling to the other end of the ward, in which there were about twenty beds, while Roseye, bending down to me, whispered in my ear:“You can’t tell how I feel, dear Claude, now that God, in His great goodness, has given you back to me,” and she cried quietly, while again and again I pressed her soft little hand to my hot, fevered lips.Teddy Ashton, bright and cheery at news of my recovery, stood by my bed at about nine o’clock next morning. The doctor had seen me and cheered me by saying that I would soon be out. My first questions of Teddy were technical ones as to how the accident happened.“I really can’t tell, old chap,” was his reply. “I’ve had the bus put into the hangar and locked up for you to see it just as it is.”“Is it utterly wrecked?” I inquired anxiously, for I feared the guv’nor’s wrath and his future disinclination to sign any more cheques.“No. Not so much as we expected. One plane is smashed—the one that buckled. But, somehow, you seemed to first make a nose-dive, then recover, and glide down to a bad landing.”“But how could it possibly have happened?” I demanded. “All was right when I went up, I’m certain. Theed would never have let me go without being perfectly satisfied. That I know.”“No, he wouldn’t,” Teddy agreed. “But the affair has caused a terrible sensation at Hendon, I can tell you.”In an instant the recollection of that podgy man, with those black eyes set askew, crossed my mind.Yes. After all, sight of him had been an omen of evil. Hitherto I had scorned any such idea, but now I certainly had positive proof that one might have a precursor of misfortune. I deeply regretted the accident to my Breguet for, not knowing the true extent of the damage, I began to despair of bringing our secret experiments to a satisfactory issue.“Look here, Claude,” Teddy said at last, bending over me and speaking in a low tone. “Has it struck you as rather peculiar that the appearance of those strangers at Gunnersbury should have been followed so quickly by this accident of yours?”“By Jove! no!” I gasped, as the true import of his words became instantly impressed upon me.“We have enemies, Teddy—you and I—without a doubt. We’ve made a discovery which is destined to upset the enemy’s plans—therefore they want to wipe us, and all our knowledge, out of existence. That’s what you mean—isn’t it?”My chum nodded in the affirmative.“That’s exactly what I do mean,” he said in a hard, meaning tone.“Then my accident was due to treachery!” I cried angrily. “We must discover how it was all arranged.”“Yes. Somebody, no doubt, tampered with your machine,” Teddy declared very gravely. “Because I believe this, I’ve left it just as it was, and locked it up safely with a man to look after it. We’ll examine it together later on, when you’re fit to run over.”Well, to cut a long story short, we did examine it about a week later. With Harry Theed, Teddy and Roseye, we made a very complete survey of every strainer, wing-flap hinge, nut-bolt, taper-pin, eye-bolt, in fact every part of the machine, save the engine—which was quite in order and practically undamaged.For a whole day we worked away, failing to discover anything, but late in the afternoon I noticed one of the bolts missing, and called the attention of both my companions.“By Jove!” exclaimed Teddy. “Why, that’s the weak spot where the plane must have buckled!” Then, bending closer to the hole in which the missing steel bolt should have been, he cried: “Look! What do you make of this—eh, Claude?”I bent eagerly to where he indicated, and there saw something which caused me to hold my breath.In the hole where the steel bolt should have been was a plug of broken wood!Wood! The truth became, in that instant, quite plain. The tested steel bolt, which was most important to secure the rigidity of the aeroplane, had been withdrawn, and in its socket a plug of wood had been placed by some dastardly and unknown enemy!The Invisible Hand, of which I had spoken so many times, had very narrowly sent me to my death!Who could have tampered with my machine?All four of us stood gazing at each other, aghast at the discovery of that wicked plot against my life. My escape had been miraculous. I had risen easily from the ground, the wooden bolt holding the plane in position, but as soon as I had attempted to turn, strain had, of course, been placed upon the machine, and instantly the wood had snapped, so that I had come down to earth like a log.“If there is a desperate plot against me, Roseye,” I said, looking straight at her, “then there is, surely, a similar one against you, and also against Teddy. Our enemies are desperate, and they know a good deal—that’s certain. Perhaps they have somehow learnt that we four possess the secret of how the Zeppelin menace can be combated. No secret however is safe from the owner of the Invisible Hand. Hence, if an attempt is made to send me to my death—attempts will also be made against you both.”“Well—that seems quite feasible—at any rate,” remarked Teddy. “I don’t think Roseye should go up again—just for the present.”“Certainly not,” I said. “There’s some deep-laid and desperate scheme against us. Of that, I’m now convinced. Our enemies do not mean to allow us to conduct any further experiments—if they can help it.”“But they don’t know the truth, Claude,” chimed in Roseye.“No. They are working most strenuously to get at it. That’s quite clear.”“But who can they be?” asked my well-beloved.“Ah! That’s a mystery—at least it is at the present. It is a very serious problem which we must seek to solve.”“But we shall do so, sooner or later, never fear,” Teddy exclaimed confidently. “We hold the secret, and our enemies, whoever they may be, shall never learn it.”A silence fell between us for several moments.At last I said:“I wonder who that woman was that old Theed declares he saw on that night out at Gunnersbury?”“Ah! if we knew that, my dear chap, we might make some progress in our inquiries. But we don’t,” Teddy said. “Her identity is just as much of a mystery as that of the owner of the Invisible Hand—that hand that took out the steel bolt and replaced it with one of wood.”“But I mean to discover the author of this infernal attempt upon me!” I exclaimed fiercely. “Whoever did it intended that I should be killed.”“Never mind. You’ve cheated them finely, Claude,” Teddy laughed. “Get quite well, old man, and we’ll set to work to fathom this mystery, and give whoever is responsible his just deserts.”“That we will,” I said resolutely. “It’s the dirty work of somebody who is jealous of us.”“Yes. And I think that Miss Lethmere ought to exercise the very greatest care,” he remarked. “As they failed in their attempt upon you, they may very probably make one upon her.”“By Jove! I never thought of that!” I gasped, staring at my friend. “And they might form a plot against you also—remember that, Teddy.”“Quite likely,” said my chum airily. “I’ll keep wide awake, never fear. What about getting old Theed to suggest some good private detective?”“No,” was my prompt reply. “We’ll be our own detectives. We’ll watch and wait.”

The next that I recollect is, with my brain awhirl, I tried to open my eyes, but so painful were they, that I was compelled to close them again in fearful agony.

Somebody whispered close to me, but my mind was too muddled to understand what was said.

My eyes burned in their sockets; my brain seemed unbalanced and aflame. I tried to think, but alas! could not. When I tried to recollect, all remembrance of the past seemed as though it were wrapped up in cotton-wool.

How long I remained in that comatose state I have no idea.

Some unknown hand forced between my teeth a few drops of liquid, which with difficulty I swallowed. This revived me, I know, for slowly—very slowly—the frightful pain across my brow decreased, and my burning eyes became easier until, at last, blinking, I managed to open them just a little.

All was dead white before me—the white wall of a hospital-ward I eventually discovered it to be—and as I gazed slowly around, still dazed and wondering, I saw a man in black, a doctor, with two nurses standing anxiously beside my bed.

“Hulloa, Mr Munro,” he exclaimed softly. “You’re better now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “But—but where am I?”

“Never mind where you are. Just go to sleep again for a bit,” the doctor urged. “You’re all right—and you’ll very soon be up again, which is the one thing that matters,” I heard him say.

“But, tell me—” I articulated with great difficulty.

“I shan’t tell you anything, just yet,” said the man in black firmly. “Just go to sleep again, and don’t worry. Here. Take this,” and he placed a little medicine-glass to my parched lips.

The effect of the drug was sleep—a long sleep it must have been—for when I again awoke it was night, and I saw a stout, middle-aged night-nurse seated at my side, reading beneath a green-shaded lamp.

As soon as she noticed me moving she gave me another draught, and then, thoroughly revived, I inquired of her what had actually happened.

I saw her motion to some one behind her, and next moment found Roseye bending over me, pale-faced and anxious.

“Oh! I’m so glad, dear,” she whispered eagerly into my ear. “Once we thought you would never recover, and—and I’ve been watching and waiting all the time. They wouldn’t let me see you until to-night. Teddy has been here constantly, and he only left at midnight.”

“But—darling—but what has happened?” I managed to ask, looking up into those dear eyes of hers utterly amazed.

“May I tell him, nurse?” she inquired, turning to the buxom woman beside her.

The nurse nodded assent, whereupon she said:

“Well—you’ve had a nasty spill! One of your wings suddenly buckled—and you fell. It’s a perfect miracle that you were not killed. I saw the accident just as I was going up in a spiral, and came down again as fast as ever I could. When I reached you, I found you pinned beneath the engine, and everybody believed you to be stone-dead. But, happily, they got you out—and brought you here.”

“What is this place?” I asked, gazing around in wonderment. “Where am I?”

“The Hendon Cottage Hospital,” was her reply.

“How long have I been here?”

“Four days. The papers have had a lot about your accident.”

“The papers make a lot of ado about nothing,” I replied, smiling. “To them, every airman who happens to have a nose-dive is a hero. But how did it happen?”

“Nobody knows. You seemed to be ascending all right, when suddenly I saw your right-hand plane collapse, and you came down plumb,” she said. “As you may imagine, darling, I rushed back, fearing the worst, and through these four awful days I have dreaded that you might never speak to me again.”

“What does Theed say?”

“What can he say? He has declared that before you started everything was perfectly in order.”

“Has Teddy examined the bus?”

“I think so, but he’s entirely mystified—just as we all are,” said my well-beloved. “Dad and mother are dreadfully worried about you.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I’ll be all right soon—but I’m stiff—jolly stiff, I can tell you!”

“That doesn’t matter,” said the nurse cheerily. “No bones are broken, and Doctor Walford has said that you’ll be up again very soon.”

“Well—thanks for that,” I replied with a smile. “My chief desire at the present moment is to know why my machine failed. Yet I suppose I ought to be thankful to Providence that I wasn’t killed—eh?”

“Yes, Claude, you ought. Your smash was a very bad one indeed.”

“Has the guv’nor been here?”

“Every day. But of course you’ve been under Doctor Walford, and he’s not allowed anyone to see you.”

“I suppose the guv’nor has been saying to everybody, ‘I told you so,’” I remarked. “He had always said I’d kill myself, sooner or later. My reply was that I’d either fly, or kill myself in the attempt. Have there been any more Zeppelin raids while I’ve been lying here?”

“No raids, but gossip has it that Zeppelins have been as far as the coast and were afterwards driven off by our anti-aircraft guns.”

“Good. When will Teddy be here?” I asked, raising myself with considerable difficulty.

“In the morning,” was my love’s response, as she took my hand in hers, stroking it softly, after which I raised her slim fingers to my lips.

Seeing this, the nurse discreetly left us, strolling to the other end of the ward, in which there were about twenty beds, while Roseye, bending down to me, whispered in my ear:

“You can’t tell how I feel, dear Claude, now that God, in His great goodness, has given you back to me,” and she cried quietly, while again and again I pressed her soft little hand to my hot, fevered lips.

Teddy Ashton, bright and cheery at news of my recovery, stood by my bed at about nine o’clock next morning. The doctor had seen me and cheered me by saying that I would soon be out. My first questions of Teddy were technical ones as to how the accident happened.

“I really can’t tell, old chap,” was his reply. “I’ve had the bus put into the hangar and locked up for you to see it just as it is.”

“Is it utterly wrecked?” I inquired anxiously, for I feared the guv’nor’s wrath and his future disinclination to sign any more cheques.

“No. Not so much as we expected. One plane is smashed—the one that buckled. But, somehow, you seemed to first make a nose-dive, then recover, and glide down to a bad landing.”

“But how could it possibly have happened?” I demanded. “All was right when I went up, I’m certain. Theed would never have let me go without being perfectly satisfied. That I know.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Teddy agreed. “But the affair has caused a terrible sensation at Hendon, I can tell you.”

In an instant the recollection of that podgy man, with those black eyes set askew, crossed my mind.

Yes. After all, sight of him had been an omen of evil. Hitherto I had scorned any such idea, but now I certainly had positive proof that one might have a precursor of misfortune. I deeply regretted the accident to my Breguet for, not knowing the true extent of the damage, I began to despair of bringing our secret experiments to a satisfactory issue.

“Look here, Claude,” Teddy said at last, bending over me and speaking in a low tone. “Has it struck you as rather peculiar that the appearance of those strangers at Gunnersbury should have been followed so quickly by this accident of yours?”

“By Jove! no!” I gasped, as the true import of his words became instantly impressed upon me.

“We have enemies, Teddy—you and I—without a doubt. We’ve made a discovery which is destined to upset the enemy’s plans—therefore they want to wipe us, and all our knowledge, out of existence. That’s what you mean—isn’t it?”

My chum nodded in the affirmative.

“That’s exactly what I do mean,” he said in a hard, meaning tone.

“Then my accident was due to treachery!” I cried angrily. “We must discover how it was all arranged.”

“Yes. Somebody, no doubt, tampered with your machine,” Teddy declared very gravely. “Because I believe this, I’ve left it just as it was, and locked it up safely with a man to look after it. We’ll examine it together later on, when you’re fit to run over.”

Well, to cut a long story short, we did examine it about a week later. With Harry Theed, Teddy and Roseye, we made a very complete survey of every strainer, wing-flap hinge, nut-bolt, taper-pin, eye-bolt, in fact every part of the machine, save the engine—which was quite in order and practically undamaged.

For a whole day we worked away, failing to discover anything, but late in the afternoon I noticed one of the bolts missing, and called the attention of both my companions.

“By Jove!” exclaimed Teddy. “Why, that’s the weak spot where the plane must have buckled!” Then, bending closer to the hole in which the missing steel bolt should have been, he cried: “Look! What do you make of this—eh, Claude?”

I bent eagerly to where he indicated, and there saw something which caused me to hold my breath.

In the hole where the steel bolt should have been was a plug of broken wood!

Wood! The truth became, in that instant, quite plain. The tested steel bolt, which was most important to secure the rigidity of the aeroplane, had been withdrawn, and in its socket a plug of wood had been placed by some dastardly and unknown enemy!

The Invisible Hand, of which I had spoken so many times, had very narrowly sent me to my death!

Who could have tampered with my machine?

All four of us stood gazing at each other, aghast at the discovery of that wicked plot against my life. My escape had been miraculous. I had risen easily from the ground, the wooden bolt holding the plane in position, but as soon as I had attempted to turn, strain had, of course, been placed upon the machine, and instantly the wood had snapped, so that I had come down to earth like a log.

“If there is a desperate plot against me, Roseye,” I said, looking straight at her, “then there is, surely, a similar one against you, and also against Teddy. Our enemies are desperate, and they know a good deal—that’s certain. Perhaps they have somehow learnt that we four possess the secret of how the Zeppelin menace can be combated. No secret however is safe from the owner of the Invisible Hand. Hence, if an attempt is made to send me to my death—attempts will also be made against you both.”

“Well—that seems quite feasible—at any rate,” remarked Teddy. “I don’t think Roseye should go up again—just for the present.”

“Certainly not,” I said. “There’s some deep-laid and desperate scheme against us. Of that, I’m now convinced. Our enemies do not mean to allow us to conduct any further experiments—if they can help it.”

“But they don’t know the truth, Claude,” chimed in Roseye.

“No. They are working most strenuously to get at it. That’s quite clear.”

“But who can they be?” asked my well-beloved.

“Ah! That’s a mystery—at least it is at the present. It is a very serious problem which we must seek to solve.”

“But we shall do so, sooner or later, never fear,” Teddy exclaimed confidently. “We hold the secret, and our enemies, whoever they may be, shall never learn it.”

A silence fell between us for several moments.

At last I said:

“I wonder who that woman was that old Theed declares he saw on that night out at Gunnersbury?”

“Ah! if we knew that, my dear chap, we might make some progress in our inquiries. But we don’t,” Teddy said. “Her identity is just as much of a mystery as that of the owner of the Invisible Hand—that hand that took out the steel bolt and replaced it with one of wood.”

“But I mean to discover the author of this infernal attempt upon me!” I exclaimed fiercely. “Whoever did it intended that I should be killed.”

“Never mind. You’ve cheated them finely, Claude,” Teddy laughed. “Get quite well, old man, and we’ll set to work to fathom this mystery, and give whoever is responsible his just deserts.”

“That we will,” I said resolutely. “It’s the dirty work of somebody who is jealous of us.”

“Yes. And I think that Miss Lethmere ought to exercise the very greatest care,” he remarked. “As they failed in their attempt upon you, they may very probably make one upon her.”

“By Jove! I never thought of that!” I gasped, staring at my friend. “And they might form a plot against you also—remember that, Teddy.”

“Quite likely,” said my chum airily. “I’ll keep wide awake, never fear. What about getting old Theed to suggest some good private detective?”

“No,” was my prompt reply. “We’ll be our own detectives. We’ll watch and wait.”

Chapter Eight.Some Suspicions.We waited, and we watched. And what we were able to discover was certainly astounding.During my convalescence many of my flying friends called at my rooms in Shaftesbury Avenue to congratulate me upon my narrow escape.I had been shaken very considerably, but actually I was not much the worse for it. I felt quite fit and eager, but the doctor would not hear of me going out, except for a run in a closed car.The real cause of my accident was kept a profound secret from every one.The governor thought it was due to clumsiness or recklessness, and I was, of course, compelled to allow him to think so. Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere, who called one afternoon, appeared to hold the same opinion, for the red-faced old steel manufacturer said:“You must really be more careful, in future, my dear boy—far more careful. Accidents so quickly happen in aeroplanes.”“Yes, accidents do,” I admitted. It was on the tip of my tongue to explain to him how some devilish plotter had attempted to take my life.I was constantly haunted by the remembrance of a face—the face of that man in the crowd with the eyes askew. As I sat alone at my fireside, often reading the papers through, even to the advertisements, and out of patience with everything and everybody, those narrow beady eyes would rise before me. I would recognise that face with the curious exultant expression anywhere.After long debate within myself I had come to the conclusion, however, that the man with the eyes askew was not actually the person who had substituted in my machine a wooden bolt for a steel one.I recollect the expression upon that hard, furrowed countenance even now—a wildly exultant expression as though he were gloating over the death-trap so cunningly prepared for me. Yet, when I reflected during my convalescence, I knew that no lunatic’s hand was responsible for such crafty contrivance, and further, the person who had withdrawn the steel bolt would certainly not come forth so boldly to peer into my face as that podgy little stranger had done.No. The man with the eyes askew might, perhaps, have gained secret knowledge of the dastardly plot, and come there to watch me rise to my death. But I was confident that his was not the Invisible Hand that had been raised against me.From everybody—even from Lionel Eastwell and the insurance people—we concealed the truth. Lionel, who lived in Albemarle Street, not far away often came in to cheer me up, sitting with me, consuming cigarettes, expressing wonder at the reason of my accident, and gossiping technicalities, as airmen will always gossip. Indeed, at the Royal Automobile Club the air “boys” are the biggest gossips in that institution—which, not so long ago, Prince Henry of Prussia so completely “nobbled.”Reminiscences of the “Prince Henry Motor Tour” through England have not been exactly popular since August 1914—and any member mentioning His Imperial Highness’s name had become at once taboo. The remembrance of that tour through the heat and dust of the Moselle valley, and afterwards from south to north of England, is still with me. My pilot in Germany was a certain Uhlan captain, who afterwards distinguished himself as responsible for the atrocities committed upon the poor inoffensive Belgians in Dinant, on the Meuse. The lives of seven hundred of those poor victims, men, women and children butchered in cold blood in the Grand Place outside the church with the bulgy spire cries out for vengeance upon that fair-haired spick-and-span Prussian who sat beside me for many days chatting so amiably in English, and assuring me that Germany would ever be Great Britain’s firmest friend and ally.Ah! How cleverly were we all bamboozled! Whenever I entered the portals of the club I remembered, as many of my fellow-members did, how completely we were gulled and blinded by that horde of German secret agents who came to us as friends and fellow-motorists, and partook of our hospitality while actively plotting for our undoing.Lionel Eastwell sat discussing this with me one dark rainy afternoon.“There’s no doubt that the Germans held out the hand of friendship and laughed up their sleeves,” he said, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke upwards from his lips. “Now that one remembers, one grows furious at it all. I confess that I liked Germany and the Germans. My people went to Germany each summer, for the mater was a bit of a musician, and we usually drifted to Dresden. I suppose I inherited from her my love of music, and that’s why I was sent to Dresden for a couple of years’ tuition.”“And did you never suspect?” I asked. “Remember what Lord Roberts and many others told us. Recollect how we were warned by men who had travelled, and who knew.”“Of course I read all those speeches and writings, but I confess, Claude, that I laughed at them. I never dreamed that war would come—not for another twenty years or more. I was lulled into a sense of false security, just as our Government and people were lulled.”“True, Germany told us fables—pretty land, sea and air fables—and we were childish enough to believe them. If peace had been the Kaiser’s object, why did Krupp’s and Ehrhardt’s work night and day and Count Zeppelin carry on his frantic work of building giant airships?” I queried. “The greatest block head in a village school, with the true facts before him, could have done nothing else than suspect. But we are such a smug and unsuspicious people. We never like to hear an unpleasant truth.”“True, we’re aroused now. This Zeppelin raid on London has inflamed the public mind. The people are clamouring loudly for something to be done. What can be done?” he asked. “How can we possibly fight those enemy airships—eh?” And he looked me straight in the face with those calm blue-grey eyes of his.I paused.I would have greatly liked to tell him of our secret discovery, for, after all, he was our most intimate friend. Yet I had given a promise to Roseye and to Teddy and, therefore, could not break it.That Lionel Eastwell was a real stolid John Bull patriot had been proved times without number. We all liked him, for he was ever courteous to Roseye, and always wholehearted and easy-going with both Teddy and myself.“You ask a question which I can’t answer, Lionel,” I replied at last.“I thought, perhaps, you had some scheme,” he laughed airily. “You’re always so very inventive.”Those words, when I remembered them in the light of after events, sounded somewhat curious.“Inventive!” I laughed. “How can I put forward any scheme by which to fight an airship, except that of fast aeroplanes capable of mounting above the airship and dropping bombs? And, surely, that’s one which our Aircraft Factory have considered long ago.”Lionel shook his head in reply.“No. There must be some other mode than that—if we could only discover it. That poor women and children are being blown to pieces while in their beds is too terrible to contemplate,” he declared. “To-day Great Britain seems inadequately defended. But somebody will, of course, devise something. We can’t remain defenceless much longer. Whenever an arm of war has been invented, ever since the dark ages, somebody has always invented something to combat it. It will be so in the case of the Zeppelin—never fear,” he added confidently.“Let’s hope so,” I replied, yet, truth to tell, it seemed to me very much as though he were trying to pump me regarding the secrets of that brown deal box which was reposing in a locked cupboard in the adjoining room. Perhaps, of course, mine was an entirely ungrounded suspicion. But there it was. I hesitated—and wondered.At that moment Theed—who acted as my mechanic, valet, and man-of-all-work—rapped at the door and, entering, announced:“Miss Lethmere, sir.”Next instant Roseye, merry and radiant in a new fur motor-coat and close-fitting black hat, burst into the room.She drew back on seeing Lionel, and then, recovering herself in an instant, exclaimed:“Oh, Claude, I—thought you were alone! How are you to-day? I’ve brought you some flowers.”“Thanks, dear,” I replied. “I’m feeling much better to-day. Teddy was in this morning, and he told me that you’d made a flight soon after breakfast. How far did you go? I thought you intended to rest for a bit?”“I went to Chelmsford,” she replied. “I had a little engine-trouble before I got back, and had to come down in somebody’s park. I think it was somewhere near Watford. But I was able to put it right and get home, if a trifle lamely.”“So Bertie Maynard told me,” remarked Lionel. “I saw him in the club just before lunch, and he said that you’d had engine-trouble.”“Oh, it wasn’t very much really. Only, after Claude’s smash, I’m rather careful,” she said.“One should always take every precaution,” declared Lionel seriously, as he rose and gave her his chair opposite me. “A lot of the boys are far too daring nowadays. They’ve followed Pegoud, and take needless risks long before they are qualified to do so. It’s easy enough to make the sensational loop if you are a practised hand. But when half-trained pupils try and attempt it—well, they’re bound to make a mess of it.”Roseye glanced at me for a moment, and I knew that she was annoyed at Lionel’s presence. He was a good enough fellow in his place as a friend of her family, and a gossip who entertained her father so constantly, but she had no desire that he should be present at what she had intended should be a cosytête-à-têteover our tea and muffins.“Well. Have you seen the papers to-day?” I asked, in order to change the subject. “They are still full of the want of an efficient air-defence.”“That will come all right, my dear Claude, I’m sure,” replied Lionel who, leaning back against the corner of my writing-table, had lit a fresh cigarette.“I sincerely hope so,” returned Roseye. “What we sadly need is a Man who will be really responsible for air-defence—and air-defence alone—one who can make the most of the weapons that are now in our hands, and who has the wit, courage and initiative to use our own splendid airmen as they themselves desire to be employed—namely, to fight the enemy.”“Quite so,” I agreed. “We also want arrangements for warning the towns and cities that air-raids are probable, so that people may take cover against both bombs and splinters of shell from anti-aircraft guns.”“All that will come in due course,” Lionel assured us.“No doubt,” I hastened to say. “Please understand that I’m not criticising any department of our defences. On the contrary, I only argue from the point of the man who may be desirous of protecting his home. Perhaps, as you say, some efficient means will at last be found by which to deal successfully with the enemy aircraft. If so, the whole country will eagerly welcome it.”“What we don’t like is attacks without any timely warning,” said Roseye.Lionel smiled—with a touch of sarcasm I thought.“There won’t be any more raids for a bit, I feel positive, Miss Lethmere,” was his assurance. “Our friends across the North Sea are not yet fully prepared with their machinery. The raid on the thirteenth was but a mere rehearsal of what they hope to do. And, as you argue, we should certainly be prepared.”“You speak almost as though you know,” I remarked, not without some surprise at his words.“I only speak after surveying the matter calmly and logically,” was his slow reply. “The German newspapers have—ever since the early days of the war—threatened to bombard London from the air. This last raid has shown that they are capable of doing so.”“They’re capable of anything!” I cried. “Remember Scarborough!”“And Belgium,” chimed in Roseye.“Well,” said Lionel to me. “You make all sorts of experiments on your new propellers and things down at Gunnersbury. Why don’t you try and devise some plan by which we can destroy Zeppelins? You’re always so intensely ingenious, Claude.”“So you’ve just said. But far better men than myself have tried—and failed,” was my diplomatic response.“But surely some means can be devised!” he cried. “Our flying-boys are splendid, as you know—and—”“Except when they come to grief, as I did the other day,” I interrupted with a hard laugh.“Well, you surely can’t complain,” was his answer.“You’ve had the very devil’s luck ever since you took your certificate.”“Admitted. But that doesn’t help me to fight Zeppelins,” I replied.“It only wants somebody to do something, to find out some new invention or other, and the boys will tumble over each other in their eagerness to go up after enemy airships. Of that, I’m positive,” declared Eastwell. “You’ve got a lot of plant down at Gunnersbury, haven’t you? If so, you ought to turn your serious attention to this matter which is at the present moment of the very highest importance to the country.”Roseye glanced at me, and I saw that my visitor’s words and bearing puzzled her.“What do you make of Lionel’s questions?” I asked her ten minutes later, when Eastwell had risen and left, having taken the gentle hint that I wished to be alone with Roseye over the tea and muffins.“I don’t know what to make of them, dear,” replied the girl, seating herself again in the big chair.“Well, I’ve been watching him for some days,” I said slowly. “And, do you know that, strictly between ourselves, I believe that he has some suspicion of the direction of our experiments, and is pumping us to see what he can glean!”“How can he possibly know? He is, of course, well aware that you’ve been devising new propellers, but he can know nothing of our real work. Neither Teddy nor Theed would ever let drop a single word, and, as you know, I’ve never breathed a sentence at home.”“He spoke as though he knew that the enemy intended more raids—but not just at present.”Roseye suddenly stirred herself and stared at me in amazement with those big expressive eyes of hers.“What? do you think—do you really suspect that Lionel Eastwell is our enemy, Claude?” she asked, suddenly pale and breathless.“Well—perhaps not exactly that,” I replied hesitatingly. “Only his queer questions, naturally make one think. We know we have enemies, clever, unscrupulous ones who have not hesitated to attempt to take my life. Therefore we must both be wary—extremely wary—for we never know where the next pitfall may be concealed.”“I quite agree with all that, dear,” answered Roseye, looking at me earnestly. “But I really can’t think that Lionel is anything else than one of our best friends. At least he’s been a really good chum to me, ever since we first met. No,” she added decisively, “I’m convinced that no suspicion can attach to him. Such an idea, Claude, is to me, too utterly absurd.”“Yes. Well, I suppose you’re right, dearest,” I replied with a sigh. “Women always see so very much farther than men in matters of this sort.”And I rose and, crossing to her chair, kissed her fondly upon the lips.“I’m sorry—very sorry indeed, dearest, that I’ve cast any reflection upon your friend,” I said in deep apology. “Do please forgive me, and we’ll never mention the subject again.”

We waited, and we watched. And what we were able to discover was certainly astounding.

During my convalescence many of my flying friends called at my rooms in Shaftesbury Avenue to congratulate me upon my narrow escape.

I had been shaken very considerably, but actually I was not much the worse for it. I felt quite fit and eager, but the doctor would not hear of me going out, except for a run in a closed car.

The real cause of my accident was kept a profound secret from every one.

The governor thought it was due to clumsiness or recklessness, and I was, of course, compelled to allow him to think so. Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere, who called one afternoon, appeared to hold the same opinion, for the red-faced old steel manufacturer said:

“You must really be more careful, in future, my dear boy—far more careful. Accidents so quickly happen in aeroplanes.”

“Yes, accidents do,” I admitted. It was on the tip of my tongue to explain to him how some devilish plotter had attempted to take my life.

I was constantly haunted by the remembrance of a face—the face of that man in the crowd with the eyes askew. As I sat alone at my fireside, often reading the papers through, even to the advertisements, and out of patience with everything and everybody, those narrow beady eyes would rise before me. I would recognise that face with the curious exultant expression anywhere.

After long debate within myself I had come to the conclusion, however, that the man with the eyes askew was not actually the person who had substituted in my machine a wooden bolt for a steel one.

I recollect the expression upon that hard, furrowed countenance even now—a wildly exultant expression as though he were gloating over the death-trap so cunningly prepared for me. Yet, when I reflected during my convalescence, I knew that no lunatic’s hand was responsible for such crafty contrivance, and further, the person who had withdrawn the steel bolt would certainly not come forth so boldly to peer into my face as that podgy little stranger had done.

No. The man with the eyes askew might, perhaps, have gained secret knowledge of the dastardly plot, and come there to watch me rise to my death. But I was confident that his was not the Invisible Hand that had been raised against me.

From everybody—even from Lionel Eastwell and the insurance people—we concealed the truth. Lionel, who lived in Albemarle Street, not far away often came in to cheer me up, sitting with me, consuming cigarettes, expressing wonder at the reason of my accident, and gossiping technicalities, as airmen will always gossip. Indeed, at the Royal Automobile Club the air “boys” are the biggest gossips in that institution—which, not so long ago, Prince Henry of Prussia so completely “nobbled.”

Reminiscences of the “Prince Henry Motor Tour” through England have not been exactly popular since August 1914—and any member mentioning His Imperial Highness’s name had become at once taboo. The remembrance of that tour through the heat and dust of the Moselle valley, and afterwards from south to north of England, is still with me. My pilot in Germany was a certain Uhlan captain, who afterwards distinguished himself as responsible for the atrocities committed upon the poor inoffensive Belgians in Dinant, on the Meuse. The lives of seven hundred of those poor victims, men, women and children butchered in cold blood in the Grand Place outside the church with the bulgy spire cries out for vengeance upon that fair-haired spick-and-span Prussian who sat beside me for many days chatting so amiably in English, and assuring me that Germany would ever be Great Britain’s firmest friend and ally.

Ah! How cleverly were we all bamboozled! Whenever I entered the portals of the club I remembered, as many of my fellow-members did, how completely we were gulled and blinded by that horde of German secret agents who came to us as friends and fellow-motorists, and partook of our hospitality while actively plotting for our undoing.

Lionel Eastwell sat discussing this with me one dark rainy afternoon.

“There’s no doubt that the Germans held out the hand of friendship and laughed up their sleeves,” he said, blowing a cloud of cigarette smoke upwards from his lips. “Now that one remembers, one grows furious at it all. I confess that I liked Germany and the Germans. My people went to Germany each summer, for the mater was a bit of a musician, and we usually drifted to Dresden. I suppose I inherited from her my love of music, and that’s why I was sent to Dresden for a couple of years’ tuition.”

“And did you never suspect?” I asked. “Remember what Lord Roberts and many others told us. Recollect how we were warned by men who had travelled, and who knew.”

“Of course I read all those speeches and writings, but I confess, Claude, that I laughed at them. I never dreamed that war would come—not for another twenty years or more. I was lulled into a sense of false security, just as our Government and people were lulled.”

“True, Germany told us fables—pretty land, sea and air fables—and we were childish enough to believe them. If peace had been the Kaiser’s object, why did Krupp’s and Ehrhardt’s work night and day and Count Zeppelin carry on his frantic work of building giant airships?” I queried. “The greatest block head in a village school, with the true facts before him, could have done nothing else than suspect. But we are such a smug and unsuspicious people. We never like to hear an unpleasant truth.”

“True, we’re aroused now. This Zeppelin raid on London has inflamed the public mind. The people are clamouring loudly for something to be done. What can be done?” he asked. “How can we possibly fight those enemy airships—eh?” And he looked me straight in the face with those calm blue-grey eyes of his.

I paused.

I would have greatly liked to tell him of our secret discovery, for, after all, he was our most intimate friend. Yet I had given a promise to Roseye and to Teddy and, therefore, could not break it.

That Lionel Eastwell was a real stolid John Bull patriot had been proved times without number. We all liked him, for he was ever courteous to Roseye, and always wholehearted and easy-going with both Teddy and myself.

“You ask a question which I can’t answer, Lionel,” I replied at last.

“I thought, perhaps, you had some scheme,” he laughed airily. “You’re always so very inventive.”

Those words, when I remembered them in the light of after events, sounded somewhat curious.

“Inventive!” I laughed. “How can I put forward any scheme by which to fight an airship, except that of fast aeroplanes capable of mounting above the airship and dropping bombs? And, surely, that’s one which our Aircraft Factory have considered long ago.”

Lionel shook his head in reply.

“No. There must be some other mode than that—if we could only discover it. That poor women and children are being blown to pieces while in their beds is too terrible to contemplate,” he declared. “To-day Great Britain seems inadequately defended. But somebody will, of course, devise something. We can’t remain defenceless much longer. Whenever an arm of war has been invented, ever since the dark ages, somebody has always invented something to combat it. It will be so in the case of the Zeppelin—never fear,” he added confidently.

“Let’s hope so,” I replied, yet, truth to tell, it seemed to me very much as though he were trying to pump me regarding the secrets of that brown deal box which was reposing in a locked cupboard in the adjoining room. Perhaps, of course, mine was an entirely ungrounded suspicion. But there it was. I hesitated—and wondered.

At that moment Theed—who acted as my mechanic, valet, and man-of-all-work—rapped at the door and, entering, announced:

“Miss Lethmere, sir.”

Next instant Roseye, merry and radiant in a new fur motor-coat and close-fitting black hat, burst into the room.

She drew back on seeing Lionel, and then, recovering herself in an instant, exclaimed:

“Oh, Claude, I—thought you were alone! How are you to-day? I’ve brought you some flowers.”

“Thanks, dear,” I replied. “I’m feeling much better to-day. Teddy was in this morning, and he told me that you’d made a flight soon after breakfast. How far did you go? I thought you intended to rest for a bit?”

“I went to Chelmsford,” she replied. “I had a little engine-trouble before I got back, and had to come down in somebody’s park. I think it was somewhere near Watford. But I was able to put it right and get home, if a trifle lamely.”

“So Bertie Maynard told me,” remarked Lionel. “I saw him in the club just before lunch, and he said that you’d had engine-trouble.”

“Oh, it wasn’t very much really. Only, after Claude’s smash, I’m rather careful,” she said.

“One should always take every precaution,” declared Lionel seriously, as he rose and gave her his chair opposite me. “A lot of the boys are far too daring nowadays. They’ve followed Pegoud, and take needless risks long before they are qualified to do so. It’s easy enough to make the sensational loop if you are a practised hand. But when half-trained pupils try and attempt it—well, they’re bound to make a mess of it.”

Roseye glanced at me for a moment, and I knew that she was annoyed at Lionel’s presence. He was a good enough fellow in his place as a friend of her family, and a gossip who entertained her father so constantly, but she had no desire that he should be present at what she had intended should be a cosytête-à-têteover our tea and muffins.

“Well. Have you seen the papers to-day?” I asked, in order to change the subject. “They are still full of the want of an efficient air-defence.”

“That will come all right, my dear Claude, I’m sure,” replied Lionel who, leaning back against the corner of my writing-table, had lit a fresh cigarette.

“I sincerely hope so,” returned Roseye. “What we sadly need is a Man who will be really responsible for air-defence—and air-defence alone—one who can make the most of the weapons that are now in our hands, and who has the wit, courage and initiative to use our own splendid airmen as they themselves desire to be employed—namely, to fight the enemy.”

“Quite so,” I agreed. “We also want arrangements for warning the towns and cities that air-raids are probable, so that people may take cover against both bombs and splinters of shell from anti-aircraft guns.”

“All that will come in due course,” Lionel assured us.

“No doubt,” I hastened to say. “Please understand that I’m not criticising any department of our defences. On the contrary, I only argue from the point of the man who may be desirous of protecting his home. Perhaps, as you say, some efficient means will at last be found by which to deal successfully with the enemy aircraft. If so, the whole country will eagerly welcome it.”

“What we don’t like is attacks without any timely warning,” said Roseye.

Lionel smiled—with a touch of sarcasm I thought.

“There won’t be any more raids for a bit, I feel positive, Miss Lethmere,” was his assurance. “Our friends across the North Sea are not yet fully prepared with their machinery. The raid on the thirteenth was but a mere rehearsal of what they hope to do. And, as you argue, we should certainly be prepared.”

“You speak almost as though you know,” I remarked, not without some surprise at his words.

“I only speak after surveying the matter calmly and logically,” was his slow reply. “The German newspapers have—ever since the early days of the war—threatened to bombard London from the air. This last raid has shown that they are capable of doing so.”

“They’re capable of anything!” I cried. “Remember Scarborough!”

“And Belgium,” chimed in Roseye.

“Well,” said Lionel to me. “You make all sorts of experiments on your new propellers and things down at Gunnersbury. Why don’t you try and devise some plan by which we can destroy Zeppelins? You’re always so intensely ingenious, Claude.”

“So you’ve just said. But far better men than myself have tried—and failed,” was my diplomatic response.

“But surely some means can be devised!” he cried. “Our flying-boys are splendid, as you know—and—”

“Except when they come to grief, as I did the other day,” I interrupted with a hard laugh.

“Well, you surely can’t complain,” was his answer.

“You’ve had the very devil’s luck ever since you took your certificate.”

“Admitted. But that doesn’t help me to fight Zeppelins,” I replied.

“It only wants somebody to do something, to find out some new invention or other, and the boys will tumble over each other in their eagerness to go up after enemy airships. Of that, I’m positive,” declared Eastwell. “You’ve got a lot of plant down at Gunnersbury, haven’t you? If so, you ought to turn your serious attention to this matter which is at the present moment of the very highest importance to the country.”

Roseye glanced at me, and I saw that my visitor’s words and bearing puzzled her.

“What do you make of Lionel’s questions?” I asked her ten minutes later, when Eastwell had risen and left, having taken the gentle hint that I wished to be alone with Roseye over the tea and muffins.

“I don’t know what to make of them, dear,” replied the girl, seating herself again in the big chair.

“Well, I’ve been watching him for some days,” I said slowly. “And, do you know that, strictly between ourselves, I believe that he has some suspicion of the direction of our experiments, and is pumping us to see what he can glean!”

“How can he possibly know? He is, of course, well aware that you’ve been devising new propellers, but he can know nothing of our real work. Neither Teddy nor Theed would ever let drop a single word, and, as you know, I’ve never breathed a sentence at home.”

“He spoke as though he knew that the enemy intended more raids—but not just at present.”

Roseye suddenly stirred herself and stared at me in amazement with those big expressive eyes of hers.

“What? do you think—do you really suspect that Lionel Eastwell is our enemy, Claude?” she asked, suddenly pale and breathless.

“Well—perhaps not exactly that,” I replied hesitatingly. “Only his queer questions, naturally make one think. We know we have enemies, clever, unscrupulous ones who have not hesitated to attempt to take my life. Therefore we must both be wary—extremely wary—for we never know where the next pitfall may be concealed.”

“I quite agree with all that, dear,” answered Roseye, looking at me earnestly. “But I really can’t think that Lionel is anything else than one of our best friends. At least he’s been a really good chum to me, ever since we first met. No,” she added decisively, “I’m convinced that no suspicion can attach to him. Such an idea, Claude, is to me, too utterly absurd.”

“Yes. Well, I suppose you’re right, dearest,” I replied with a sigh. “Women always see so very much farther than men in matters of this sort.”

And I rose and, crossing to her chair, kissed her fondly upon the lips.

“I’m sorry—very sorry indeed, dearest, that I’ve cast any reflection upon your friend,” I said in deep apology. “Do please forgive me, and we’ll never mention the subject again.”

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