"Had to risk it," declared Blake cheerily. "This will do for the present. Night's coming on apace. Fortunately there are plenty of emergency rations on board."
"Where are we?" asked Athol.
"Goodness only knows," said the inventor. "All I know is that we just skimmed the tops of a tall building. It wouldn't be a bad idea to land and have a look round. Nothing like fixing one's bearings in case we have to clear out in a hurry."
Although the fuselage when at rest had a normal inclination of about forty-five degrees it now barely exceeded fifteen. On alighting the airmen discovered that the battleplane was resting in the snow on a shelving slope. Twenty feet from her bows was a stone wall in a ruinous condition. Only the drag of the snow drift had prevented the battleplane from hurling itself "nose-on" against the formidable obstruction.
Already the twilight was falling, the dim light rendered still fainter by the steady drive of heavy flakes. Away to the right a dim outline, silhouetted against the afterglow, denoted the position of the building against which the battleplane had so narrowly escaped being hurled.
"A ruined castle," exclaimed Athol.
"And, to me, a familiar spot," rejoined the inventor. "We couldn't have lighted upon a better place. This is Kenilworth. There is little fear of interruption, it is late in the day, and people would not be tempted to wade through the snow drifts even if the grounds are not closed. Yes; we'll do here very nicely. There's plenty of room for a 'take off.' Now for a meal, then we'll tackle the repairs. I don't propose making a fresh start until just before daybreak."
Returning to the battleplane the three aviators "battened" down to guard against the possibility of any stray ray of light betraying their presence. Two battery-charged electric lamps gave quite a brilliant illumination. The meal, though frugal, was heartily appreciated, while thanks to the amount of heat still retained by the radiators fed by the exhaust the temperature bordered upon sixty degrees.
"One must be ready to profit by slight misfortunes," remarked Blake during the the meal. "I have an idea. I'll have separate magnetos to each engine."
"Will that help us?" asked Dick. "If one engine fails one of the wings will cease beating and the other will go on flapping. The battleplane would be like a duck wounded in one wing."