Chapter Twenty Three.
The “L39.”
Having taken Colonel and Mrs Cator into our confidence, and they having invited Roseye to stay with them, we were all, on the following day, duly installed at Swalecliffe Park.
Without delay I called upon the officer in charge of the listening-post—the whereabouts of which I do not intend to disclose—and, to my joy, found that he was a man named Moncrieff whom I had met many times at Hendon, and also at the club.
Having told him of my intention to have a “go” at the next enemy airship that might come over, he readily promised that upon receiving the next alarm, he would make a point of ringing me up at Swalecliffe.
Then, with the machine in readiness and already tested and re-tested, and also with a full petrol-tank, there was nothing further to do but to draw it out into the park each night, and await the alarm.
It was on the first day of March when we had come down in Swalecliffe Park as strangers—on a Wednesday I remember—and the following days had been fully occupied with our preparations, while throughout each night Teddy and I, ready dressed for flight, sat in the colonel’s study wherein the telephone was installed.
Thursday night passed quite uneventfully. During the earlier hours the colonel and Roseye sat with us, but the barometer being low, and the weather gusty, we had, even at ten o’clock, decided that no Zeppelin would risk crossing the North Sea.
On Friday night the four of us played bridge till half-past four, the Theeds being, of course, on duty outside. We had the consolation of knowing that, though the Invisible Hand might be searching for us, it had not yet discovered our place of concealment. Each evening we tested the telephone—through the local exchange—out to the listening-post, and each evening Moncrieff, who was in charge, answered cheerily: