Nay, it was no rich argosy of the desert that these fierce men expected; their eyes were directed one and all towards the skies, for the days had now arrived of which the poet spoke, when he
"Saw the heavens filled with commerce,
Argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight,
Dropping down with costly bales;"
and they were awaiting, with evil intent, the passing of the Aerial Mail, which they knew to be carrying vast treasures of gold and other precious things from India to Cairo and Europe.
The three Europeans who had collected and organised these robber chiefs, by appealing to their hereditary instincts, were none other than our friends, Rittmeister von Spitzer, and his companions Carl and Max, the German irreconcilables, whom we left in the dark shadows of the Schwarzwald preparing for their adventure.
Already they had made a name greater than Muller of the Emden, but they had made themselves outlaws of the nations of the world, and though for a little while success and fame might attend them, yet they knew that sooner or later the agreed price of their adventure would be death.
"What news of the British air-liner, Max?" called von Spitzer, as his subordinate descended by a rope ladder from one of the smaller trees, where an observation post had been fixed, and an aerial mounted, for the purposes of wireless telegraphy and telephony.
"She left Delhi at mid-day yesterday, sir," replied the operator, unclamping the receivers which till now had been fixed over his ears.
"Then she's running to scheduled time?"
"Yes, sir."
"Was it the official departure message that you tapped?"