"Collar? What do you mean?" asked Schaffer, completely mystified. "Collar? That something is around the neck—dog collar, horse collar, stylish collar, hein?"
"Well, crib, then."
"Crib? Ach, I haf it! Crib something is to do with children. You say our Zherman air fleet it is in infancy, eh? You are all wrong, as you will see."
"I said nothing of the sort," said Hamerton, smiling. "I said you collared, cribbed our ideas—sneaked them."
"I understand not still," expostulated the German lieutenant. "I haf not learned the word 'sneak' in my vocabulary."
"Then suppose I explain that you borrowed the idea of a parachute from us?"
Schaffer literally gasped.
"You then have a like device in England? Then it is by spies such as you, Herr Smidt, that it was made known."
Whatever had been his object in entering Hamerton's cell the Sub never found out, for the lieutenant lost no time in informing his superior officer that these English had already got to learn how to prevent disasters to aircraft heavier than air.
As Hamerton had foreseen, the gale began to make itself felt. Just before sunset a strong breeze from the east sprang up, and in less than twenty minutes the Sub could see columns of spray dashing high above the seawall between the East Kalbertan Battery and the Düne Fort.