"Don't be offended, Dacres," he said hurriedly, "but if I can let you have——"

Dacres shook his head.

"Thanks, old chap," he replied, "I'd rather not."

"As a loan, then?"

"No, thanks all the same. It hasn't come to that yet, and I hope it never will. It's awfully good of you, Hythe."

"Sorry you won't let me show my sympathy in a tangible manner, Dacres. Still, you know my address. If there's anything I can do, don't hesitate to write."

"I won't, forget," said Dacres. "There are not many old shipmates I would care to look to for a favour, but you are the exception, Hythe. Well, I must be getting under way once more. It's close on quarter to five."

By a few seconds Dacres caught his train. He travelled first class, for in spite of his dwindling purse he resolved to maintain the dignity of the family. It was one of the few concessions he made to appearances.

As the train was moving out of the station he bought an evening paper, and settling himself in a corner seat, scanned the pages. In the "stop press column" appeared a report to the effect that the elusive airship had been sighted by the S.S "Micronome" in Lat. 51 degrees 4 minutes N. Long. 30 degrees 25 minutes W., or roughly midway between Liverpool and New York. The tramp was plugging at half speed against a furious easterly gale. The sky was obscured with dark clouds, and although it was noon the light was very dim. The airship, travelling at an estimated speed of one hundred miles an hour, passed at a height of eight hundred feet above the vessel, and was seen by the captain and second mate, who were on the bridge, and also by four of the dockhands. The force of the wind was registered at fifty miles per hour, yet the airship flew steadily and without the slightest inclination to pitch.

The information was received by wireless at Valencia at 2.15 p.m. and immediately transmitted to the Admiralty. Presuming that the speed and direction of the airship were uniformly maintained she ought to be sighted by the coast-guards on the Kerry coast by 6 p.m.

Dacres finished reading the paper without discovering any news bearing directly upon the actual doings of the gigantic aircraft; then, having devoured the advertisement columns for the simple reason that there was nothing else to read, he threw the paper on to the seat and began to take a slight interest in his fellow-passengers.

They were two in number, One, a short, redfaced man whose chief characteristics were a white waistcoat, a massive gold chain, and a large diamond tie pin, was evidently a well-to-do City man. Dacres' surmise was strengthened by the fact that the man was deep in the pages of the "Financial Times."

The second passenger was a man of a very different type. He was about five feet nine inches in height, and heavily-built. He was clean-shaven, revealing an exceedingly sallow complexion. This, together with the fact that the "whites" of his eyes were far from being white and were of an aggressively bilious colour, seemed to suggest that this man had been born under a tropical sun. His hair was dark and inclined to curl, while Dacres noticed that the "half-moons" of his finger-nails were of a purple hue. His lips were heavy and of a pale pink tint.

"Touch of the tar-brush there," soliloquized Dacres. "Finger-nails of that colour invariably betray a dash of black blood. He doesn't look any too well dressed, either."

The stranger was attired in a shabby brown suit; his dirty collar and frayed red tie were in keeping with his sombre appearance. Altogether he looked as unlike a man who habitually travels first class as anyone could possibly imagine.

Dacres made his examination with assumed and well-guarded indifference, but his scrutiny was none the less minute. He had the knack of being able to read a person's character by observation, and was rarely at fault.

"A truculent bounder," was his summing-up. Twenty years back he would have made a fairly tough customer in the ring. "Unless I'm much mistaken he is too fond of bending his elbow. I'd like to hear him talk: ten to one he has a South American accent."

As the train tore past the Brooklands Flying Ground two large biplanes were in the act of ascending. They rose awkwardly, bobbing in the stiff breeze, then, gradually overhauling the express, passed beyond the limits of Dacres' observation.

"Untameable beasts," remarked an evenly-modulated voice, and turning from the window Dacres found that the sallow-faced passenger was addressing him. The City man, deep in his paper, had paid no heed to the aeroplanes in flight.

"Think so?" asked Dacres. "They seem to be making good headway, especially as they are plugging right in the eye of the wind."

"While they are under control they are—well—safe," rejoined the man. "But one never knows when they take it into their heads to side slip or bank too steeply. To my mind accidents are bound to happen till a means is found of counteracting the force of gravity."