“Ner,” Simon shook his head. “You’re not up to it — I’ll go. Richard, I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I could have sworn that you said you were sending her by train, so that she shouldn’t be mixed up in this business.”
“I never said anything about trains, but it’s not your fault, Simon. I ought to have made myself clear. Anyhow, I’m going back.”
“It’s this child who’s going back,” said Rex, “neither of you boys is fit to travel.”
De Richleau had remained silent; he opened the door of the car and stepped out into the roadway. Then he smiled at the others, not unkindly.
“Now, my friends, if you have all done, I suggest that we should treat this misfortune like sensible people. It would be madness for any of us to dash back to Kiev in this quixotic manner. An hour either way can make no difference now, and we are all badly in need or rest. Let us breakfast first, and think about saving Marie Lou afterwards.”
Without waiting for a reply he walked over to the farm gate and held it open.
“That certainly is sense.” Rex put the car in gear, and ran her through into the yard.
“Hullo! what’s that?” exclaimed Simon, as he got out stiffly. “Sounds like a ’plane.”
“It is.” De Richleau was gazing up into the sky. “Quick, Rex, run the car under that shed — it may be the frontier people looking for us.”
A moment later they saw her — a big grey air-liner, coming up from the direction of Mogeliev. With a dull booming of her powerful engines she sailed steadily over their heads, following the line of the frontier, the early morning sunlight glinting on her metalwork.