The question of the petrol appeared to be pressing. There were even low-voiced fears concerning treachery, and Gheena gathered that it was even possible that a boat must be sent to try to discover a certain cave if they were not signalled by—Gheena could not catch the name.
"We sent word by wireless," she heard, "to him.... It has always been right...."
Gheena went very white. Who had they sent word to?
The inferior admiral grunted fiercely, and motioned to Gheena to sit down. She did so, closer than ever to the lieutenant who looked good-natured. She was told she was to answer questions.
"In England," said the admiral, "I suppose you are all now so terrified, you only come out in the dark; that is why a young Fräulein boats alone at night!"
Gheena nodded thoughtfully, but she said that it was not England exactly; in fact it was Ireland. She said it dreamily because she was sure she was asleep.
"Tell me"—the admiral opened a pocket-book—"what do they say of our Zeppelins in stricken London?"
"Zeppelins!" Gheena raised her head. "Oh, yes ... the recruiting balloons, of course," she said thoughtfully.
The stout officer grew purple so slowly that it was quite interesting to watch him—a purple which straddled gradually across his big nose and lost itself in his beard.
"The ... Himmel ... ball ... oons," he said heavily. "Balloons!" At this point the senior lieutenant developed a nasty cough and had some trouble with it.