Thus relieved for the time being of their fears the party tumbled out of the car, and having agreed with Higgins to meet him precisely two and a half hours later, struck across the huge field in which the meeting was taking place toward the half-dozen hangars in which the flying machines were housed.
"That's Levallois'," said Susanne, pointing to one over which the flag of France flew. "I'll cross direct."
"But—but you can't," Bert told him, for Bert was one of those youths who somewhat lack assurance. He had a huge respect for authority and order. He often envied Masters his cheek, and Clive and Hugh the dash and persistence which carried them through difficulties. "You can't, Susanne. The place is roped off, and there are scores of police."
"Can't! You wait," laughed the Frenchman. "See that bobby. Looks a good chap, eh? See me get round him."
They allowed the voluble Frenchman to go ahead of them a few paces, as if he were not attached to the party, and watched with breathless interest as he nonchalantly ducked under the ropes which kept the crowd back. Susanne, his monocle in position, strolled away across the enclosure.
"Hi! You stand back there!" came the summons from the nearest constable. "Get out of the enclosure, please."
Susanne might have been deaf. It was not until the officer of the law actually had his hand upon his shoulder that the young fellow showed the smallest attention to his order. And then, in the inimitable style of Feofé, a style somewhat spoiled by the jeers and laughter of his schoolfellows, but nevertheless a style which was part and parcel of the young fellow, Susanne raised his hat and swept it from his head. In wonder and amazement his comrades heard him addressing the constable in French, speaking volubly, waving his arms, pointing to the hangars opposite. And then he dived into a waistcoat pocket and produced a card.
"What's this?" demanded the constable, a young man, evidently puzzled. "Can't read it. You're French, eh?"
Susanne nodded energetically. He beckoned to Masters, and at the signal that young fellow dived beneath the rope and ran to join him. At once Susanne fired off a string of words, totally unintelligible to the constable, and mostly so to Masters, who was no great French scholar. But he knew what Susanne wanted, and knew also what he and his friends required. Also Masters was just the youth to carry a matter like this through in splendid style. He had cheek enough for a dozen.
"It's like this, don't you see, constable," he said, smiling sweetly at the officer. "Monsieur Feofé—that's French, you know—Monsieur Feofé comes from France, where all the flying's done, and Monsieur Levallois's one of the flyers. That's his shed over there, with the French flag over it. Well, of course, Monsieur Levallois expects Monsieur Feofé and his friends. We've come here to see him. He wants us over at his place, you see. I'm sorry you can't understand Monsieur Feofé. But that's the worst of these fellows who can't speak English."