Then, taking a flash-lamp, he went forth across the big meadow to the hangar and found Collins awaiting him.
“All ready, sir,” the latter announced cheerily. “I heard you quite well on the ’phone from London, but—well, sir,” he added hesitatingly, “it’s a bit risky to fly to-night, isn’t it?”
“Is the machine all in order—everything?” asked his master.
“Everything, sir. She only requires wheeling out,” and as he uttered the words the mechanic opened the great sliding-doors of the hangar.
Then, together, the two men wheeled out the aeroplane, and while Ronnie mounted into the pilot’s seat Collins swung over the propeller, and his master tuned up his engine.
Meanwhile, Beryl having put on her air-woman’s kit, with the leather jacket and cap, joined her lover, whom she found in the hangar poring over a map showing the East Coast between the Wash and the estuary of the Thames.
He was taking measurements and making some pencilled calculations, while she stood expectantly beside him.
“Well, dear!” he asked at last, “are you ready?”
“Quite!” was her reply, and a few moments later, after he had put on his muffler, his overalls, and leather coat, they both climbed into the machine, and strapped themselves in.
“Light the flares about two o’clock, Collins. I’m making a pretty long flight, so we can’t be back before then.”