“I might have known!” Rosemary groaned within herself. “Perfection, only perfection of equipment and eternal vigilance such as a great transport company exercises can save one in the air.
“But I’ll not say a word!” She set her teeth hard. “Have to carry on.” Snapping on a small light attached to a cord, she set about the task of inspecting the radio connections, a trying task in such a moment of sky turmoil.
In the meantime the ones who had been left marooned in that abandoned farmhouse by Jeanne’s sudden flight were discussing their plight.
For a full half hour they had hunted the missing little French girl. Giving this up at last, they returned to the house.
“What is to be done?” the woman asked.
“There is little to be lost by waiting,” suggested Hugo. He hated darkness and night. “She can’t have gone far. It is pitch dark. A storm is coming up out of the west. She has no light. If she had, we should have seen it. She will be frightened and return.”
“But why did she leave?” the woman asked. “Did you give her cause for fear?”
Hugo shrugged. “Who knows what a gypsy will do? I should not have trusted her.
“She’ll hardly do us harm before dawn,” he added. “I have flown a plane a few thousand miles. In daytime I would attempt a solo flight, but at night, and a storm in sight? No, it would not do.”
After that, having brewed themselves some strong coffee and gulped it down, they settled themselves as comfortably as might be to await the coming dawn.