He held up his hand and inclined his head sideways. Above the ba.s.s hum of the aerial propellers came the distant report of a gun.

"Reminds a fellow of old times when the Archies got busy," remarked Kenyon.

"Our friends the French are evidently treating us to a salute to help us on our weary way," rejoined Peter. "Goodness only knows how we are to return it. We can't give gun for gun."

He focussed his gla.s.ses on the white buildings three thousand feet below. The whole of the water-front of Algiers was packed with figures with upturned faces--Frenchmen, Algerines, Arabs, and Nubians--all frantically waving to the huge airship as she sped eastwards.

In ten minutes the "Golden Hind" had left the capital of France's African possessions far astern. Unless anything untoward occurred, another four hours would bring her within sight of Malta.

"You might cast your eye over the signal log-book before you take on,"

remarked Bramsdean.

Kenyon did so. Evidently the wireless operator had been kept busily employed, for there were dozens of messages wishing the "Golden Hind"

bon voyage. But amongst them were two of a different nature. One announced that an American airship "Eagle," under the command of Commodore Theodore Nye, had left Tampa Town bound for Colon, followed by a supplementary message that the "Eagle" had left the Panama Ca.n.a.l zone and was last sighted flying in a westerly direction. Making allowance for the difference in New York and Greenwich times, both the "Golden Hind" and her Yankee rival had started practically simultaneously from their respective points of departure for the actual race.

The second wireless message, transmitted via Vancouver, Newfoundland, and Poldu, was to the effect that the "Banzai," the j.a.panese quadruplane piloted by Count Hyashi, had started from Nagasaki at a speed estimated at two hundred and twenty miles an hour.

"Artful blighter, that j.a.p," declared Bramsdean. "He's kept his design carefully up his sleeve till the last moment. We thought he was attempting the flight in an airship, but he's pinned his faith to a gigantic quadruplane."

"Two hundred and twenty miles an hour, too," added Kenyon. "That means he'll do the whole trip in less than 120 hours of actual flying, unless something goes wrong with his 'bus. My word, some speed!"

"What I'd like to know is his petrol consumption, and how much juice does his 'bus carry," remarked Bramsdean, thoughtfully. "By Jove!

We're up against something, old son."

"By the by, I see there's no news of Fritz," said Kenneth.

"Not a word," replied Peter. "Von Sinzig evidently thinks that it's too early to start bragging. We'll hear either from or of him before night.

Fosterd.y.k.e is trying to call him up by wireless and tell him that he has a friend of his on board."

"Oh, that greasy merchant!" rejoined Kenneth. "How did he get on?"

"Played 'possum," answered Bramsdean. "Fosterd.y.k.e tried to put the wind up him, but it was a frost. I'd like to know what he did to the shackle on the mooring-buoy."

"You think he cast us adrift?"

"Without a doubt, old bird."

Kenyon shook his head doubtfully.

"He might have been simply fishing when the pin drew and he got whisked aloft," he suggested. "Did he give his name or any particulars?"

"Not he," replied Peter. "In fact he wasn't asked. Fosterd.y.k.e went for him bald-headed and tried to make him admit that he was in von Sinzig's pay. But nothin' doin', even when we made out that we were going to drop him overboard. Well, cheerio, old thing."

Left in charge of the airship, Kenyon pondered over the problem of whether the man he had rescued had really been a secret agent of von Sinzig or otherwise. If he were, then it would be almost a foregone conclusion that he spoke German.

Kenneth had plenty of time for reflection during his "trick." The "Golden Hind" was making good progress. There was little or no wind, and her drift was in consequence almost imperceptible; while the temperature was so constant that there was no necessity to alter the volume of brodium in the ballonets for hours at a stretch. The motors, too, ran like clockwork, and beyond attending to the semi-automatic lubricators occasionally, the air-mechanics on duty had little to do.

Fosterd.y.k.e, having paid a brief visit to the navigating room, retired to his cabin to make up arrears of sleep.

"Might work," soliloquised Kenneth, reflectively. "I'll tackle Fosterd.y.k.e about it next time I come across him."

At four in the afternoon Malta was pa.s.sed at a distance of ten miles to the south'ard. The "Golden Hind" was doing well, maintaining more than her normal cruising speed. If she were able to keep on at that rate she would accomplish the voyage of circ.u.mnavigation well under the twenty days; but that was now but a secondary consideration. At all costs von Sinzig's Z64 must be overhauled.

The "Golden Hind's" first stop was at Alexandria, sixteen hours after leaving Gibraltar. She made a faultless landing on sandy spit that separates Lake Mareotis from the Mediterranean. The time of her arrival had been notified by wireless, and all preparations had been made for her reception. Keenly interested Tommies manned the trail ropes and secured her firmly to anchors buried in the sand; lorries laden with petrol and oil were rushed to the spot, and the work of refuelling began without delay. While Fosterd.y.k.e and Kenyon were signing the "control certificate" and holding an informal reception of almost the whole of the British Colony at Alexandria, Bramsdean remained in charge of the airship.

In order to keep back the dense crowd, composed of fellaheen, Copts, Arabs, Syrians, and representatives of every nation bordering on the Mediterranean, strong picquets of British troops were posted round the tethered airship, no unauthorised person being permitted to approach within a hundred yards of the "Golden Hind"; while to enable the work of refuelling to proceed as rapidly as possible, the improvised aerodrome was brilliantly illuminated by portable searchlights mounted on motor lorries.

It seemed as if it would be impossible for any suspicious characters to approach the airship without being detected. Having once been "bitten,"

Fosterd.y.k.e was not taking chances in that direction.

No attempt had been made to get rid of Enrico Jaures. Closely watched by a couple of the crew, he was even permitted to view the proceedings from an open scuttle in one of the compartments on the starboard side.

When everything was in readiness to resume the voyage, Fosterd.y.k.e and Kenyon shook hands with their entertainers and crossed the guarded square. As they approached the entry port on the starboard side a dark figure suddenly appeared from behind an unattended lorry, and at a distance of ten paces fired half a dozen shots in rapid succession straight at the baronet.

Almost at the first report Fosterd.y.k.e threw himself at full length upon the sand. Kenyon, without hesitation, rushed upon the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin, while two of the crew, leaping from the fuselage, promptly seized the miscreant and deprived him of his automatic pistol.

"Hurt, sir?" asked Kenyon, anxiously.

"Not a bit of it," replied Sir Reginald coolly. "That fellow couldn't hit a haystack at five yards. Bring him along, men."

An agitated member of the Egyptian Civil Service, accompanied by a couple of staff officers, hurried up, and after making inquiries and learning that Fosterd.y.k.e was unhurt, suggested, not without good reason, that the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin should be handed over to the civil powers for trial.

The baronet airily swept aside the suggestion.

"Sorry, Vansittart," he said; "but I'm not going to waste precious time appearing as a prosecutor in this business. No, I'm not exactly professing to take the law into my own hands, but I propose taking the gentleman with me. If he tried to shoot me, surely I can jolly well kidnap him. 'Tany rate, possession's nine points of the law. When I've done with him you can deal with him."

"But, dash it all, man!" exclaimed one of the staff officers; "you aren't going to--to----"

"Hang him? Not much," declared the baronet. "Return good for evil sort of thing, you know. Don't get fl.u.s.tered, Vansittart. He's mine, and we're just off."

Happening to glance up as he entered the fuselage, Fosterd.y.k.e caught sight of Enrico Jaures, who had seen the whole incident through one of the windows.

"Birds of a feather," he soliloquised. "However, I don't suppose we'll pick up pals of this sort at every place we touch. All ready, Kenyon?"

he enquired, raising his voice. "Right-o; let go."

CHAPTER XII--CONFIDENCES

In one of the store-rooms, the contents of which had been removed in order to adapt the place to present requirements, sat Enrico Jaures and the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin. They were under lock and key and had been unceremoniously bundled into durance vile without the formality of an introduction.

Enrico was feeling fairly content, in spite of being a prisoner. After all, he reflected, nothing had been proved against him. He had scored in his encounter with the captain and owner of the British airship, and, all things considered, he was being well treated.

He made no remark when his new companion was gently but firmly propelled through the doorway. The newcomer was equally reticent; so the ill-a.s.sorted pair--one rigged out in the nondescript garments of a low-cla.s.s inhabitant of Gibraltar and the other in European clothes and a tarboosh--sat in opposite corners of the limited s.p.a.ce.

For the best part of an hour neither spoke. Occasionally they regarded each other furtively. Then the gentleman who had demonstrated so effectively how not to shoot straight began to slumber. Sitting on his haunches with his arms clasped round his bent knees, he nodded his crimson tarboosh until his head found a rather uncomfortable resting-place on his clasped hands.

Then in his somnolent condition he began muttering his wandering sentences, punctuated with many "Achs!"