Ten minutes later he entered a suite of chambers in Ryder Street, where an elderly, rather staid-looking grey-haired man rose to greet him.
“Well?” he asked. “What news?”
“Nothing much—except that Pryor is flying to-night on patrol work,” replied the other in German.
“H’m, that means that he will have the new silencer upon his machine!”
“Exactly,” said the man who had displayed the silver wings of the Royal Flying Corps, though he had no right whatever to them. “By day ‘The Hornet’ never carries the silencer. I proved that when I assisted the girl in Lincolnshire. We can only secure it by night.”
“And that is a little difficult—eh?”
“Yes—a trifle.”
“Then how do you intend to act, my dear Leffner.”
The man addressed shrugged his shoulders.
“I have an idea,” was his reply. “But I do not yet know if it is feasible until I make further observations and inquiries.”