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Page 3
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This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
The Zeppelin's Passenger
by E. Phillips Oppenheim
CHAPTER I
"Never heard a sound," the younger of the afternoon callers
admitted, getting rid of his empty cup and leaning forward in his
low chair. "No more tea, thank you, Miss Fairclough. Done
splendidly, thanks. No, I went to bed last night soon after
eleven--the Colonel had been route marching us all off our legs
--and I never awoke until reveille this morning. Sleep of the
just, and all that sort of thing, but a jolly sell, all the same!
You hear anything of it, sir?" he asked, turning to his companion,
who was seated a few feet away.
Captain Griffiths shook his head. He was a man considerably older
than his questioner, with long, nervous face, and thick black hair
streaked with grey. His fingers were bony, his complexion, for a
soldier, curiously sallow, and notwithstanding his height, which
was considerable, he was awkward, at times almost uncouth. His
voice was hard and unsympathetic, and his contributions to the
tea-table talk had been almost negligible.
"I was up until two o'clock, as it happened," he replied, "but I
knew nothing about the matter until it was brought to my notice
officially."
Helen Fairclough, who was doing the honours for Lady Cranston, her
absent hostess, assumed the slight air of superiority to which the
circumstances of the case entitled her.
"I heard it distinctly," she declared; "in fact it woke me up. I
hung out of the window, and I could hear the engine just as plainly
as though it were over the golf links."
The young subaltern sighed.
"Rotten luck I have with these things," he confided. "That's three
times they've been over, and I've neither heard nor seen one. This
time they say that it had the narrowest shave on earth of coming
down. Of course, you've heard of the observation car found on
Dutchman's Common this morning?"
The girl assented.
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