“It certainly wouldn’t hurt her, sir, especially if we can get some of that new patent stuff that Mr. Henderson was telling us about the other day,” the young mechanic replied.
“Ah! That’s a secret,” laughed his master. “It’s no doubt the finest dope ever invented, and happily Fritz, with all his scientific attainments, is still in the dark regarding it.”
“I’m afraid the enemy will learn the secret before long, sir,” the man remarked. “There are far too many strangers knocking about the aerodromes, and prying into everyone’s business.”
“I know, Collins, I know,” remarked Ronnie. “They’re very inquisitive regarding my new silencer.”
“Yes, that’s quite right, sir. I’m often being pumped about it by strangers.”
“Well, I know you never utter a word concerning it.”
“Trust me, sir,” laughed the clean-shaven young man. “I always deny any knowledge of it. But the people who make the inquiries seem very shrewd indeed. And the funny thing is that they are never foreigners.”
“Yes, I quite realise that. But at all hazards we must keep the secret of the silencer to ourselves,” said Pryor. “The silencer enables us to make night-flights in secret without the enemy being any the wiser,” he added.
Collins grinned. He knew, only too well, how “The Hornet” had, more than once, been over to Belgium and returned in safety without its presence being spotted by the enemy. He knew, too, that the bomb-rack had been full when Ronnie and Beryl Gaselee had ascended, and that it had been empty when they had returned.
On the previous night Pryor had been up, accompanied by his mechanic. They had come in at daybreak, snatched three hours’ sleep, and were now out again overhauling the machine.