Somehow I had just a faint suspicion that he did, for I detected a curious expression upon his lips—a look such as I had never seen there before.
He made no remark, but busied himself with the excellently-cooked snipe before him.
Fortunately Lionel Eastwell was not aware of our secret—the secret of that brown deal box which we were so rapidly perfecting.
Only on the previous day Roseye had been up in the air with me across Hampstead, Highgate, and out as far as Hatfield and home to the aerodrome, making a further test of the potent but unseen power which we had been able to create, and which must, if further developed, be our strong arm by which to strike a very deadly blow against enemy airships.
“Personally,” declared Sir Herbert, in his bluff, matter-of-fact way, “I think the whole idea of air-defence from below is utterly futile. A gun can never hit with accuracy a moving object so high in the air and in the dark. What target is there?”
“Exactly,” exclaimed Eastwell. “That has always been my argument. I’ve been interested in aviation for years, and I know the enormous difficulties which face the efforts of those who man our anti-aircraft guns. Searchlights and guns I contend are inadequate.”
“They’ve hardly been tried, have they?” queried Lady Lethmere. “And, moreover, I seem to recollect reading that both have done some excellent work on the French front.”
“But London is not the French front,” Eastwell protested. “The conditions are so very different.”
“Then what do you suggest as a really reliable air-defence?” Sir Herbert inquired.
“Fight them with fast aeroplanes and bombs,” Eastwell said.