Thus you see me in London, two days after Thumbwood brought the terrible news to my bedroom in the hotel at Plymouth. General Sir Hercules Nichelson, Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Flying Corps, had been with me for half an hour, and was just taking his leave. "Then all that is satisfactorily arranged, Sir John," he said. "We shall supplement your patrol ships with three war-ships at Plymouth and three at the Scillies. They will, of course, be air cruisers, both faster and better armed than your boats, and between us both we shall put an end to this pest before many days are over." "I sincerely trust so," I said. "And I do not see how it is possible that there should be any further outrages. The net will be too close. America, with its much greater coastal area, is taking extraordinary precautions." "It will be impossible for these devilish scoundrels to escape," the General repeated with confidence--the onus of it all was not falling upon _him!_--"and now, we quite understand one another." "Perfectly, I think, Sir Hercules." "Your chief station officer is to be in full command, under you, at each air-port." "It was your suggestion, Sir Hercules, and since it came from you, I do think it would be best. My men are always patrolling the air-lines. The organization is complete already." "Exactly. And as for my fellows, they will be proud to serve under such gallant and experienced officers as those of the A.P." "It's kind of you to say so." "Not at all. It is the truth. And now, as an older man, let me give you a little advice, if I am not taking a liberty. Don't let this affect you too much, Sir John. Every sane man knows that neither you nor anyone else could have avoided what has happened, or have provided against it. It is a great thing to have an acute sense of responsibility; I honour you for it. But don't overdo it. I know the strain you are enduring. Don't let it go too far. If you were to break down now, that would be a final disaster...." The kind, white-haired old man shook me warmly by the hand, and left the room. Almost immediately young Bickenhall, my private secretary, came in. "Here is the morning's Press, sir," he said, and upon my table he put down various columns cut from the journals of that morning--all dealing with the sensational and terrible events on the Atlantic that were now the common knowledge of the world. I sat down to glance through them--I was keeping an iron grip upon myself these times--in order to gauge public opinion. It occurs to me that, in order to acquaint you with the progress of events from my awakening at Plymouth till the morning of which I speak, I cannot do better than quote a paragraph here and there from the daily papers. It will bring us up to date more quickly and concisely than in any other way. This, then, from one of the leading London journals, a weighty, somewhat ponderous sheet, with considerable influence: