"Mr. Chittenden," pursued Thomas, "brings noos."
"Good news?" I asked.
Mr. Chittenden, like the Eldest Oyster, shook his heavy head.
"I 'eard it from a natteralized German two days ago. It seems that they're goin' to make a fresh dash with invisible Zeppelins. Once they can e-vade the ships that's watchin'——"
He left the sentence unfinished.
"Consequence o' which," said George Hangar, "we've gone an' made ourselves into an Informal Committee o' Defence, same as sits night an' day in the War Office in London. An' the question before the meetin' is, what's to be done if some fine day we wakes up to find a couple o' thousand black 'elmets marchin' down the main road?"
"Ambush 'em," said Thomas Fallow definitely. "Told you so afore. Lie be'ind the 'edges an' pick 'em off. My old rook-rifle'd roll 'em over proper. Shoot straight an' keep on shootin'."
Aaron made a scornful noise in his throat.
"An' them as did get in the village'd punish us for them as didn't! Burnin', killin' an' worse."
"Then outflank 'em," insisted Thomas doggedly. "Let 'em 'ave their fill of advancin', same as old Joffer done, an' then ketch 'em in the side an' discriminate 'em."