their task was finished they were as hot and dirty as engine-drivers. They washed at a sink, filled two stone jars with water and placed them in the cage, adjusted the wind screens, and then sat down to rest and talk over things before starting on their night journey. Smith pencilled some calculations on a piece of paper, referring more than once to the globe. Then taking a clean piece, he drew up a schedule which had some resemblance to a railway timetable.

"There! How does that strike you, Roddy?" he said, when he had finished it.

"It strikes me hot," said the Frenchman. "What I mean, it will be hot work. But that is what I like."

"So do I, so long as I can keep cool. At any rate we can start to the second. Are you ready?"

The sky was brilliant with stars when, just after midnight, they took their places in the aeroplane. Twenty-five minutes' easy run, east-north-east, brought them within sight of the dull red glare northward that betrayed London. Smith had so often made this journey that, even if the stars had been invisible, he could almost have directed his course by the lights of the villages and towns over which he passed. He knew them as well as a sailor knows the lights of the coast.

Just before half-past twelve, in a steep slope on his right, looming up black against the sky, he recognized Box Hill. Passing this at a moderate pace, which allowed them to take a good look-out, they saw in a minute or two a small red flame flickering in the midst of a dark expanse. Every second it grew larger as they approached; Smith did not doubt it was the bonfire which he had asked his friend Barracombe to kindle. Dropping to the ground within a few feet of the fire, which turned out to be of considerable dimensions, he found a motor-car standing near it, and Barracombe walking up and down.

"Well, old man," said Barracombe, as Smith alighted; "they call me a hustler, but you've hustled me this time. What in the world are you after?"

"Have you got the stuff?" returned Smith with the curtness of an old friend.

"Yes; chocolate, bovril, the whole boiling; but—"

"And the maps?"

"And the maps. A nice job I had to get them. All the shops were shut, of course. I stole 'em."

"Played the burglar?"

"No. I went to the Royal Societies' Club, and pinched them out of the library. Posted a cheque to pay for 'em, but there was nobody about and I couldn't stop for red tape."

"Well, you're a big enough man to do such things with impunity. That's why I 'phoned you: knew you'd do it somehow."

Although Barracombe was a potentate in the city, who controlled immense organizations, and held the threads of multifarious interests, he was very human at bottom, and Smith liked him all the better for the glow of self-satisfaction that shone upon his face at this tribute to his omnipotence.

"But now, what's it all mean, you beggar? Are you off to reorganize the Turkish navy or something?"

"I'm off to the Solomon Islands."

"What!"

"That's it: going to have a shot at helping the poor old governor."

"But, my dear fellow, he'll either be relieved or done for long before you can get there. The paper said they were practically unarmed."

"Exactly. I'm going to pick up some rifles and ammunition at one of the Australian ports, and so help 'em to keep their end up until the gunboat reaches them. I'll probably get there a day before the boat."

"But do you know how far it is? It's thirteen thousand miles or more."

"I know. I'm going to have a try. I've got seven days to get there and back; then my leave's up. I can do it if the engine holds out, and if you'll help."

"My dear chap, you know I'll do anything I can, but—well, upon my soul, you take my breath away. I'm not often surprised, but—what are you grinning at?"

"At having knocked the wind out of your sails for once, old man. Seriously, we've thought it out, Roddy and I. We've more than once done a speed of a hundred and ninety. Of course it's a different matter to keep it up for days on end, but how long have you had your motor-car?"

"Three months. Why?"

"And how often has it broken down?"

"Not at all; but I haven't done thirteen thousand miles at a go."

"You've done more, with stoppages. Well, I shall have stoppages—just long enough to clean and take in petrol and oil, and that's where I want your help. I want you to arrange for eighty gallons of petrol and sixteen of oil, to be ready for me at three places besides Constantinople. Here's the list; Karachi, Penang, and Port Darwin. Could you cable me to the address in Constantinople the names of firms at those places?"

"Of course. I'll look 'em up the first thing in the morning."

"Too late. It must be done to-night. If all goes well I shall be in Constantinople soon after eight to-morrow—our time; and I must leave there in a couple of hours if I'm to stick to my programme."

"Very well. I'll look out some names as soon as I get back to town. You mean to keep me up all night. There you are, man; it's absurd; you can't drive night and day for seven days without sleep."

"Roddy and I shall have to take watch and watch."

"But suppose you're caught in a storm; suppose the engine breaks down when you're over the sea—"

"My dear chap, if we fall into the sea we shan't hurt ourselves so much as if it were land. I've got a couple of lifebuoys. If a storm comes on, too bad to sail through, we must come down and wait till it's over. Of course any accident may stop us, even a speck of grit in the engine; but you're the last man in the world to be put off a thing by any bogey of what-might-be, and I'm going to look at the bright side. It's time I was off, so I'll take the things you've brought—oh, I see Roddy has already shipped them, so I'll get aboard."

"Well, I wish you all the luck in the world. Send me a wire when you land, will you, so that I may know how you are getting on."

"If I have time. Good-bye, old man; many thanks."

They shook hands, and Smith was just about to jump into his seat when there came the sound of galloping horses, and the incessant clanging of a bell. Smith laughed.

"Your blaze has roused the Epsom Fire Brigade," he said with a chuckle.

"Well, I thought I'd better make a big one to make sure of you," replied Barracombe.

Smith waited with his hand on the lever until the fire-engine had dashed up.

"What the blazes!" cried the captain, as he leapt from his seat, looking from the motor-car to the aeroplane with mingled amazement and indignation.

"Good-bye, Billy," cried Smith; "I'll leave you to explain."

The propeller whirled round, the machine flew forwards, and in a few seconds was soaring with its booming hum into the air. Smith glanced down and saw the fireman facing Barracombe, his annoyance being evidently greater than his curiosity. He would have smiled if he could have heard Barracombe's explanation.

"W-w-why yes," he said, affecting a distressing stutter; "this kind of b-b-bonfire is a hobby of m-mine; it's about my only r-r-recreation. M-m-my name? Certainly. My name's William bub-bub-Barracombe, and you'll find me in, any day between t-ten and f-five, at 532 mum-mum-Mincing Lane."

CHAPTER III

ACROSS EUROPE TO THE BOSPHOROUS

It had just turned half-past twelve on Friday morning when Smith said good-bye to his friend William Barracombe on Epsom Downs. The sky was clear; the moon shone so brightly that by its light alone he could read the compass at his elbow, without the aid of the small electric lamp that hung above it. He set his course for the south-east, and flew with a light breeze at a speed of at least two hundred miles an hour.

His machine was a biplane, and represented the work and thought of years. Smith never minimized the part which Laurent Rodier had had in its construction; indeed, he was wont to say that