"Cut out!" ordered Fosterdyke.
Bramsdean promptly depressed a small switch by the side of the indicator-board. This automatically cut off the ignition. The propellers made a few more "revs." and then came to a standstill. In almost absolute silence, save for the whine of the wind in the struts and tension wires the "Golden Hind" began her long, oblique glide earthward.
Suddenly Kenyon gripped the baronet's arm.
"Look!" he exclaimed. "Airship!"
Fosterdyke did as requested. The "Golden Hind" was manoeuvring high above La Mancha, the undulating well-watered plain between the Montes del Toledo and the Sierra Morena. Six thousand feet beneath the airship the town of Ciudad Real glinted in the slanting rays of the morning sun.
"Our shadow--that's all," declared Fosterdyke.
"No, not that," protested Kenneth. "More to the left."
He grasped a pair of binoculars and looked at the object that had attracted his attention. It was a somewhat difficult matter, owing to the refraction of the triplex glass in front of the navigation-room, where, in contrast to the rest of the windows, fire-proofed celluloid had not been employed.
Before Kenyon had got the airship in focus the baronet had also spotted it. Apparently it had just left its shed and was heading in a south-easterly direction, differing a good four points from that followed by the "Golden Hind."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Kenyon. "It's a Fritz! I can spot the black crosses on the envelope."