Rex shook his head “Bad landing; the fields’ll suit us best.”
“Do as I say,” cried Simon sharply, taking, the Duke’s wallet. He handed both that and his own to Marie Lou. “Here’s money,” he said, breathlessly. “Get to Moscow, if you can; see Valeria Petrovna Karkoff, she’s the famous actress — anyone will tell you where she lives. Give her this locket and tell her we’re prisoners in Kiev — understand?”
Marie Lou nodded. “Valeria Petrovna,” she repeated. “Yes.”
The ’plane began to wheel in great circles at a steep angle. Simon peered out again. He leant over Rex’s shoulder.
“Think you can make the orchard?” he cried.
“I guess you’re nuts,” said Rex, not understanding what was going on. “There’s a couple of police cars following us on the road — they’re in touch with the ’planes by wireless, you bet — we haven’t a hope in hell of running for it. Still, I’ll do as you say.”
The roofs of the village seemed to be dashing towards them at a terrific speed. They skimmed the thatch of a big barn, and a moment later were bumping along a meadow at fifty miles an hour. With a sudden turn Rex ran the ’plane through a wooden paling, and they brought up with a mild crash against the first trees of an orchard.
“Splendid,” cried Simon, as the engine ceased to throb after its seventeen-hour journey. “Couldn’t have been better.” He was already helping Marie Lou to climb out at the back. “Run,” he shouted, as she dropped to earth.
“My bundle,” she cried; “throw me my bundle.”
“Never mind that,” yelled Simon. “Run!”