“Evidently Herr Baron is not a member of the Zeppelin crew,” I said humbly, “or he would know that the Zeppelins are ‘led’ to their destination by motor-cars with strong head-lamps.” “Of course I am not a member of the Zeppelin crew,” he said in deep disgust, “I am a Royal Lieutenant of the 31st Regiment of the Prussian Guard.” “Does your Excellency intend staying here very long?” I asked, as we trudged along the country road. “For a week,” he replied, “after that I return----” “By----?” “That is my business,” he replied, “if a Zeppelin can bring me here, a Zeppelin can take me away.” Though I had never heard of parachutes that go up, I know all things are possible owing to the inventive genius of our nation, so I questioned him no further. Outside Saffron Walden we stopped whilst I went to the hotel to collect the handbag which I had left there. Needless to say the people in the hotel were in that condition of cowardly funk which our Zeppelin always inspires. The children were crying because they had not seen the airship, and again I heard in the common bar of the hotel those terrible words which my modesty would only allow me to designate by using certain letters of the alphabet. I rejoined the Baron and we made our way to the railway station, which was in darkness. Fortunately the train which came in was also darkened and remained that way until we reached London and I was able to bring the Baron to my flat without observation. He was a tall, handsome gentleman, dressed in civilian clothes of a noble cut and rich texture, and over a glass of whisky he graciously unbent and told me that he had come to England by this curious method to discover the extent of the damage, not only of the first raid, but of a raid which was projected and by which it was hoped to lay London entirely in ruins. “On what day will that occur?” I asked. “You will be notified in due time. It may be to-morrow, and it may be the next day,” he replied. “I only asked,” I said carelessly, “because it is necessary for me to see one of my agents in North Devon one day this week, and I should not like to miss the raid.” “You will stay here until I go. That is an order. Why are you looking so pale?” “It is the pressure of work, your Excellency,” I replied. “I am afraid I have rather taxed my strength. My doctor suggested that I ought to go away at once to Cornwall or perhaps Scotland.” “We hope to bomb Scotland,” said the Baron thoughtfully. “It would not be a bad idea if you were there.” “When I said Scotland,” I said hastily, “I should have said that my doctor suggested I should go to Scotland in the spring. This of course is the very worst weather. Are you likely to bomb Wales?” “We cannot reach there. It is beyond our reach,” said the Baron. “I only ask,” I said, “because he also suggested that I should go there.” “When the raids are over you can go to the devil. I only want your assistance while they are on.” “Did you say raids or raid?” I asked.