“Very well, sir.”
Then, tuning up again, and having tried the silencer, and found it in good working order, he ran the machine swiftly across the frosty grass. Soon he rose, and, skimming the trees, soon soared away into the darkness.
From where Beryl sat she saw the glow of the little electric bulb set over the instruments shining into her lover’s strong clean-shaven face, and, by the compass, gathered that they had described a half-circle, and, though still rising rapidly, were now heading eastward in the direction of the sea. The roar of the engine, of course, rendered speech impossible, while the mist was very chilly causing her to draw her brown woollen comforter around her cheeks. There was no sign of light anywhere below—all was a great black void.
They had flown for nearly half-an-hour when, of a sudden, the long beam of a searchlight shot up from somewhere on their left, and began slowly to search the sky. Their approach had been heard by one of our air-stations.
Ronnie, watching the light made no attempt to evade it. Indeed, he switched on his searchlights in order to reveal himself. He had no wish to be peppered by our “Archies.”
Next second both of them were blinded by the searchlight full upon them. In a moment a second, and then a third, light converged upon them, so that the aviator and his well-beloved were compelled to shade their eyes with their gloved hands.
For a full three minutes the lights followed them, when the watchers below, having examined the tri-coloured rings on “The Hornet’s” planes and being satisfied, shut off.
Beryl saw that her lover was anxiously watching his altimeter, as well as his compass and clock. It seemed as though he were apprehensive of something.
Suddenly he began to descend, and pulled across the lever controlling the silencer, thus cutting off the noise of the exhaust.
“We’re over the sea, now,” he remarked; “can’t you feel the difference in the atmosphere? Look on the left.”