“An enemy light for the guiding of enemy Zeppelins—eh?” Beryl suggested.
“Exactly my opinion!” was her lover’s reply.
As he spoke they passed out of range of vision, all becoming dark again. Therefore, Ronnie put down his lever and turned the ’bus quickly so that he could again examine the mysterious light which would reveal to the enemy the district of London over which they were then flying.
For a full quarter of an hour “The Hornet,” having descended to about three thousand feet, manœuvred backwards and forwards, crossing and recrossing exactly over the intense white light below, Ronnie remaining silent, and flying the great biplane with most expert skill.
Suddenly, as he passed for the sixth time directly over the light, he touched a lever, and a quick swish of air followed.
In a moment the white light was blotted out by a fierce blood-red one.
No sound of any explosion was heard. But a second later bright flames leapt up high, and from where they sat aloft they could clearly distinguish that the upper story of the house was well alight.
Once again “The Hornet,” which had hovered over the spot, flying very slowly in a circle, swooped down in silence, for Pryor was eager to ascertain the result of his well-placed incendiary bomb.
As, in the darkness, they rapidly neared the earth, making no sound to attract those below, Beryl could see that in the streets, lit by the flames, people were running about like a swarm of ants. The alarm had already been given to the fire-brigade, for the faint sound of a fire-bell now reached their ears.
For five or six minutes Pryor remained in the vicinity watching the result of the bomb.