-field where, in the corner, sheltered from the wind,
stood Noel Barclay's naval monoplane, with its star-like Gnome engine
and wide planes of pale yellow.

The spot was a lonely one. Before him stretched a wide heath covered
with gorse, and the Norfolk Broads beyond. Nobody was nigh.

Bending, he crept swiftly along the high hedge, until he reached the
machine. His attitude was that of an evil-doer. From his pocket he
produced a small bolt of wood painted to resemble steel. He advanced to
the left wing-spar of the monoplane and, apparently possessing expert
knowledge of the point where it was the most vulnerable, he swiftly drew
out a split pin, removed a small steel bolt at the end of the main-stay
cable, and replaced it with the imitation bolt.

The dastardly, murderous action was only the work of a couple of
minutes, when, placing the bolt in his pocket, he crept back again
beneath the hedge, and ten minutes later reached the Old Ship unnoticed,
having taken a certain route with which he seemed well acquainted.

As he approached the hotel he came face to face with Noel Barclay, who,
cigarette in mouth, strode at an easy pace along the road towards the
spot where he had left his machine. He passed the young foreigner
without recognition. The man in the golf suit was a mere summer visitor,
and to his knowledge he had never seen him before. Unsuspicious of what
had been done, he went forward, eager to rise in the air again and
return to his headquarters.

But when he had passed Ralph Ansell turned and, glancing covertly after
him, an evil expression upon his strong, clean-shaven face, muttered a
fierce imprecation in French beneath his breath.

The officer, however, strolled forward in ignorance of the stranger's
sinister glance or his malediction, while the foreigner, with a crafty
smile of triumph, entered the hotel, to find, to his alarm, that Jean
had been taken very unwell.

In a moment he expressed the greatest consternation, and at once rang
and ordered a cab in which to drive her back to Cromer.

A quarter of an hour later Jean Libert--whose feigned illness had now
almost passed--was seated happily at her lover's side, slowly ascending
the hill on the cliff-road leading towards Cromer, when, of a sudden, a
loud whirr was heard in the air behind them.

"Why, look, there is an aeroplane!" cried the girl, enthusiastically,
turning and watching with interest the naval monoplane rising beyond the
village t