Lionel shook his head in reply.
“No. There must be some other mode than that—if we could only discover it. That poor women and children are being blown to pieces while in their beds is too terrible to contemplate,” he declared. “To-day Great Britain seems inadequately defended. But somebody will, of course, devise something. We can’t remain defenceless much longer. Whenever an arm of war has been invented, ever since the dark ages, somebody has always invented something to combat it. It will be so in the case of the Zeppelin—never fear,” he added confidently.
“Let’s hope so,” I replied, yet, truth to tell, it seemed to me very much as though he were trying to pump me regarding the secrets of that brown deal box which was reposing in a locked cupboard in the adjoining room. Perhaps, of course, mine was an entirely ungrounded suspicion. But there it was. I hesitated—and wondered.
At that moment Theed—who acted as my mechanic, valet, and man-of-all-work—rapped at the door and, entering, announced:
“Miss Lethmere, sir.”
Next instant Roseye, merry and radiant in a new fur motor-coat and close-fitting black hat, burst into the room.
She drew back on seeing Lionel, and then, recovering herself in an instant, exclaimed:
“Oh, Claude, I—thought you were alone! How are you to-day? I’ve brought you some flowers.”
“Thanks, dear,” I replied. “I’m feeling much better to-day. Teddy was in this morning, and he told me that you’d made a flight soon after breakfast. How far did you go? I thought you intended to rest for a bit?”
“I went to Chelmsford,” she replied. “I had a little engine-trouble before I got back, and had to come down in somebody’s park. I think it was somewhere near Watford. But I was able to put it right and get home, if a trifle lamely.”