Until night fell the lovers remained at Fawkham, taking their evening meal in a small inn there, and wondering what Cranch had seen during the daylight vigil he had kept since noon. Collins had left them in order to go on ahead.
As dusk deepened into night both Pryor and his well-beloved grew more excited. The discovery they had made was certainly an amazing one, but the intentions of the enemy were still enveloped in mystery.
That something desperate was to be attempted was, however, quite plain.
In eagerness they remained until night had fallen completely, then, leaving the inn, they returned to the farmer’s shed, and, wheeling forth the powerful machine, got in and, having bidden the astonished farmer good-night, Ronnie put on the silencer, started the engines, and next moment, rising almost noiselessly, made a wide circle in the air. Taking his bearings with some difficulty, he headed for a small, open common, which they both knew well, situated about a quarter of a mile from Chandler’s Farm.
There, with hardly any noise, they made a safe descent. Scarcely had the pilot switched off the engines, when the faithful Collins appeared with the news that Marx and the man Knowles had arrived from London in the car at seven o’clock.
Presently, when Collins had been left in charge of the ’bus, and Ronnie and Beryl had stolen up to where Cranch was waiting, the latter whispered that Marx and Knowles had both accompanied the German pilot down to the shed wherein the disguised machine was reposing. “They’re all three down there now,” added the ex-detective.
“Did they bring anything in the car?”
“Yes. Half-a-dozen cans of petrol. They’ve just taken them down to the shed.”
And even as he replied they could hear the voices of the three returning. They were conversing merrily in German.
Another long, watchful hour went by, and the darkness increased.