Larkin shook his head regretfully. “I wish I could think so, Major. I’d like to boast that I had given von Herzmann a little lead poisoning. But I don’t think so. The tracers showed that my burst was going into his motor. I winged that, all right, but he didn’t fly like a wounded man.”
“Modest enough,” Cowan approved. “It seems that G2 thinks the same thing. They have reason to believe that he is in the neighborhood of this point here,”–he put a finger on the map–“where the railroad between Soissons and Chateau-Thierry crosses the Ourcq.”
He turned now directly to Siddons, his eyes cold and piercing. “Lieutenant Siddons, you seem to be a most excellent map flyer. You find your way here alone, and you tour this part of France with admirable ease. To-morrow morning, if the visibility is good, you will take off at dawn, cross the line above Bouresches, push on toward Bonnes and as far inland 162as the railroad crossing on the Ourcq–if possible. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly, sir.” Siddons was as unconcerned and unruffled as though he had received an order to fly to Paris.
“You will get the greatest possible altitude before crossing the line, and you are to avoid combat. Your mission is to bring us information, if possible, concerning the location of enemy ’dromes–and especially von Herzmann’s base. Am I clear?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
One could not but admire the cool confidence of the fellow. His complacency was not what Cowan had expected.
“If you think the risk is too great, alone,” Cowan said, after watching his face for any hint of quailing, “I will send two other planes with you. They might help reduce the odds in case of unavoidable combat.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Siddons replied. “In fact, one plane has a better chance to escape combat, especially if there are some clouds to duck into. Anything else, sir?”
Cowan made a clicking sound with his tongue. The fellow wasn’t human; he was an iceberg!