thoughts I came to the conclusion was not as reassuring as I meant it to
be. By this time the others were on their way back across the yard, and
I turned to give 23 another tuck up.

Such a long time elapsed before any firing occurred; it seemed to me
when I first looked out into the yard I must be the only person who had
heard the Zepp. What were the sentinels doing, I wondered? The
explanation I heard later from a French gunnery lieutenant. The man who
had the key to the ammunitions for the anti-aircraft guns was not at his
post, and was subsequently discovered in a drunken sleep--probably the
work of German spies--at all events he was shot at dawn the following
day. In such manner does France deal with her sons who fail her. As soon
as the Zepp. had passed over, the firing burst forth in full vigour to
die away presently. So far, apparently, no bombs had been dropped. I
suggested to Pierre we should relight one or two lamps, as it was
awkward stumbling about in complete darkness. "_Non, non, Miske_, he
will return," he said with conviction. Apparently, though, all seemed
quiet; and Sister suggested that after all the excitement, I should make
my way across the yard to get some supper. Pierre came with me, and at
that moment a dull explosion occurred. It was a bomb. The Zeppelin was
still there. The guns again blazed away, the row was terrific. Star
shells were thrown up to try and locate the Zepp., and the sky was full
of showering lights, blue, green, and pink. Four searchlights were
playing, shrapnel was bursting, and a motor machine gun let off volleys
from sheer excitement, the sharp tut-tut-tut adding to the general
confusion. In the pauses the elusive Zepp. could be heard buzzing like
some gigantic angry bee. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. It
looked like a fireworks display, and the row was increasing each minute.
Every Frenchman in the neighbourhood let off his rifle with gusto.