Thus abjured Kirkwood opened the valve of the dead airman's inflated jacket. Slowly the corpse sank beneath the surface to find a temporary resting-place on the bed of the North Sea. Night had fallen by the time the seaplanes had returned to their parent ship and had been safely housed. The "Hippodrome," steaming with screened lights and escorted by the vigilant destroyers, resumed her belated run for home waters.
Barcroft and Kirkwood, in the large and well-lighted wardroom, were examining the "effects" of their victim, while a crowd of flying-officers stood round to watch the proceedings.
The A.P. had separated the Hun's personal belongings and was making them up into a parcel, to be sealed and delivered to the dead aviator's relatives when opportunity occurred. It was a point of etiquette faithfully carried out by the airmen of both sides whenever circumstances made it possible.
Barcroft was studiously scanning the documents that were not of a personal nature. The map was a German production, and comprised a large scale area of Kent. Probably it was based upon the British Ordnance Survey, supplemented by details gathered by the swarm of Hun spies who more or less openly infested the length and breadth of the British Isles, prior to the memorable month of August 1914. Yet there was clear evidence of the map being brought up to date, recently-erected munition factories and other places of military importance being faithfully recorded. The margin was embellished with photographic reproductions of views of conspicuous landmarks taken from a considerable altitude.
"Jolly rummy how these Boche birds get hold of these views," commented Fuller. "I swear they didn't take them unless they've been running daylight trips in noiseless and practically invisible 'planes. It's their strafed organisation that is so wonderful. Knock holes in that and it's all up with Hunland. Hullo, Billy, what's the excitement?"
Barcroft, holding up a paper he had taken from the pocket-book, was studying it with the deepest interest, while his face was dimpled with lines of suppressed laughter.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Won't the governor be bucked? Listen to this, you fellows. I'll have to go slow, as some of the tongue-splitting words take a bit of translating:
"'It is my Royal and Imperial command that steps be taken to secure the person of the Englishman Peter Barcroft, residing at Rivers dale House, near Alderdene, in the county of Kent, the said Peter Barcroft having published or caused to be published books that—that—(can't quite make out what's Schriftsteller? Ah! I have it) of which he is the author, the same books treating Us with libellous contempt. To the good German who succeeds in producing the said Peter Barcroft alive on German soil will be paid the reward of twenty thousand marks. In the event of the said Peter Barcroft being slain by the act of one of my subjects the reward will be ten thousand marks.—Wilhelm, I.R.'"
"So that's what Unter-leutnant E. von Bülow und Helferich was on the stunt for," remarked Fuller. "Yes, by smoke! there's a red circle drawn round the village of Alderdene. Billy, my festive, your pater will have to look out for himself."
"Perhaps the Hun has already wiped Riversdale House out of existence," said Barcroft with a hearty laugh.