Suddenly the dark shape of a man loomed up right in front of the hangar; he shouted something — but what, they could not hear. He did not carry a rifle, and in the faint glow his face expressed surprise.
De Richleau levelled his automatic — another second and he would have pulled the trigger. With a gasp he lowered his pistol and stooping, yelled through the cabin to Simon: “Don’t shoot! For God’s sake don’t shoot!”
“Time to go home,” said Rex to himself, as he smiled in the darkness. He had not wasted the last few moments. Better to take the risk of a few shots as they left the ground, than chance a dead cold engine conking out fifty yards from the shed.
Slowly the big ’plane slid forward — the man ducked hurriedly under the right-hand wing — in a moment they were in the open and gathering speed.
As the ’plane left the shed the din of the engines lessened. A whole crowd of men surged out of the darkness, shouting and gesticulating. Somehow, to the occupants of the ’plane, they looked stupid and helpless — waving their arms and opening their mouths when not a word they said could be heard. One fell over backwards as he jumped aside to avoid the onrush of the metal wing. The speed increased — the cool night air rushed past — the ’plane began to bump gently in great leaps along the level ground; almost in an instant the running men were left behind, swallowed up in the shadows.
“We’re off!” cried Simon, to Marie Lou, and for the first time the girl realized that they had left the ground. Another group of hangars rushed past them, twenty feet below — they both looked back. The crack of a rifle came to them faintly from the hangar. It was followed instantly by a great sheet of flame.
The Duke gave a chuckle of delight — he had come through the small cabin and joined them unnoticed.
“What — what happened?” gasped Simon.
“I left the petrol turned on in front of the sheds,” De Richleau smiled, grimly.
“That’s why you called out to me not to fire?”