“He has Matthews’s ’plane,” he said. “He’ll use that—to drop explosives.... He’s been gone hours. He can’t be caught and stopped. Once he reaches that ’plane, there’s no way to stop him. Even if the city was warned, he could do as he wished.... There’s no way to stop him.”
“But you must stop him.... If this thing is done it will be my fault—mine!... Because I didn’t tell.... But now I’ve told.... Oh, Potter, you must do something.... I’m not a traitor.... I love my country. Don’t let me be blamed for this. There’s a way to prevent it—some way.... You must find it.”
“If we knew where the ’plane was—or the explosive stored.” He stopped suddenly, and a surge of joy welled up to his eyes. “I know,” he said. “I know where he must start.... That island, Hildegarde, where we fell.... That’s what the island was for. They made explosive, stored explosive.... There is where he will start.”
“What time is it?”
He looked at his watch. “Nearly six,” he said.
“He won’t start for hours—until midnight. He’ll be safest then.... Can’t you get there in time?”
“I don’t think a motor-boat could reach that island—the ice in the lake.”
“He’s got to reach it. He can reach it.”
“He’ll have that ’plane hidden on the lake shore. He’ll fly across and take on his explosives.”
“You have an aeroplane, too,” she said, simply.