“Those guns?” cried Graham.
“We cannot mount them—in half an hour.”
“Do you mean they are found?”
“Too late,” said the old man.
“If we could stop them another hour!” cried the man in yellow.
“Nothing can stop them now,” said the old man. “They have near a hundred aeroplanes in the first fleet.”
“Another hour?” asked Graham.
“To be so near!” said the Ward Leader. “Now that we have found those guns. To be so near—. If once we could get them out upon the roof spaces.”
“How long would that take?” asked Graham suddenly.
“An hour—certainly.”