The officer approaching—a youthful, upright figure walking quickly, with the short, springy steps of a man much in the saddle—proved to be grey-haired and grey-moustached. The double-winged badge of his Service was embroidered in gold upon the right sleeve of his tunic, and upon the collar, a single wing in this case, ending in a star. He carried binoculars suspended from his neck by a rolled-leather thong, and a revolver in a black-leather case was attached to the belt about his middle. There was thick white dust upon the legs and uppers of his high polished black boots, which the grass had scoured from the toes and soles. His bright blue-grey eyes ran over Franky as the slight soldierly salute was exchanged. He said, speaking in excellent English: "If Monsieur, the English officer, will obligingly mention his name, rank, and regiment, it might be possible to allow him to continue his promenade with Madame, the invention we are testing being the patent of his countryman, and already familiar to the Authorities at the British War Office." Thus coerced, Franky produced his card, Margot dimpled into smiles, the polite officer saluted again, introduced himself as Raymond, Capitaine-Commandant pilot of the —th _escadrille_, wheeled and walked away. But he returned to say, this time directly addressing Margot: "Should Madame la Vicomtesse desire to witness the test of her countryman’s—apparatus, there can be no objection to her doing so. But that Madame should keep clear of the vicinity of the"—he pointed to the two oblong strips of white canvas adorning the middle of the expanse of green,—"the signal, intended for the guidance of the aviator, is of absolute necessity, Madame must understand!" "There won’t be any...?" Margot was beginning, nervously. "_Mais non, Madame_. _Pas d’explosion_," the officer assured her, and stiffened to attention facing eastwards, and scanning the sky with eyes that blinked in the dazzling glare of early noon. For the droning whirr of a plane just then reached them, drowning the sign of the hot south breeze that rustled in the tops of the acacias and oaks, ilexes and poplars, that rose about the arena of open ground.... *CHAPTER V* *THE BIRD OF WAR* "The _avion_ comes from Drancy." The speaker looked back at Margot as he focussed his binoculars. "It is not one of our Army machines, but a British monoplane built by your countryman and fitted with the invention whose usefulness we are here to test." He continued: "Should the _officier-pilote_ in charge of the—apparatus—and who for the time being represents an enemy—succeed in poising"—he hesitated a bare instant—"for a stipulated number of moments over the target—those two lengths of white canvas approximating on the grass represent the target—he scores a bull’s-eye."