in response to his words. "War Departments; that's more like
it." He threw his match aside, and walked to his machine. "I
tell you, sir," he said, "there isn't a big Power in Europe, OR
Asia, OR America, OR Africa, that hasn't got at least one or two
flying machines hidden up its sleeve at the present time. Not
one. Real, workable, flying machines. And the spying! The
spying and manoeuvring to find out what the others have got. I
tell you, sir, a foreigner, or, for the matter of that, an
unaccredited native, can't get within four miles of Lydd nowadays--
not to mention our little circus at Aldershot, and the
experimental camp in Galway. No!"

"Well," said Bert, "I'd like to see one of them, anyhow. Jest to
help believing. I'll believe when I see, that I'll promise you."

"You'll see 'em, fast enough," said the soldier, and led his
machine out into the road.

He left Bert on his wall, grave and pensive, with his cap on the
back of his head, and a cigarette smouldering in the corner of
his mouth.

"If what he says is true," said Bert, "me and Grubb, we been
wasting our blessed old time. Besides incurring expense with
that green-'ouse."

5

It was while this mysterious talk with the soldier still stirred
in Bert Smallways' imagination that the most astounding incident