The two Australians, declining an invitation to go on board the airship, rode away in the darkness.
As the farmer had predicted, the wind fell away to a dead calm, so the airship was able to rest upon the ground, but ready, should the breeze spring up, to ascend to a hundred feet and there ride it out until the promised petrol was forthcoming.
"Now for our first dinner on or over Australian soil," exclaimed Fosterdyke. "By Jove, I'm hungry! What's going?"
He scanned the menu card. The cooks on the airship were good men at their work, and dinner, whenever circumstances permitted, was rather a formal affair.
"Hullo!" exclaimed Peter. "Covers laid for four, eh?"
"Yes," replied the baronet. "I'm expecting a guest. Ah! here he is. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Trefusis."
Kenyon and Bramsdean could hardly conceal their astonishment, for standing just inside the doorway, immaculately dressed in well-cut clothes, was the man they had hitherto known as Otto Freising, the fellow who had attempted to shoot Fosterdyke at Alexandria.
"Secret Service," explained the baronet. "Had to keep the affair dark, even from you two fellows."
"You certainly did us in the eye," said Peter.
"No more than I did Señor Jaures," rejoined Trefusis. "I had a rotten time cooped up with that bird, but it was worth it."