It took Kenyon and Bramsdean the best part of an hour to literally force their way through the throng. By dint of shouting "Gangway, please," they continued to make a certain amount of progress until their arrival, coupled with the ex-sergeant’s efforts to make the crowd stand aside, attracted the attention of the representatives of the Press. For five minutes the latter bombarded the chums with questions, getting inconsequent replies that put the reporters on their mettle. "If we aren’t allowed in, we’ll take jolly good care you won’t be," shouted one of the Press representatives, evidently mistaking Peter and Kenneth for favoured spectators. There was a rush towards the gates. The half a dozen policemen assisting Hayward and his men were almost swept off their feet. Things looked serious. If Kenyon and his companion succeeded in getting past the gate it would only be in the midst of an excited mob. Just then Sir Reginald Fosterdyke appeared. Some of the local inhabitants recognised him, and the report of his identity quickly spread. So when he raised his hand to enjoin silence the crowd surging around the gate ceased its clamour. "By preventing my navigating officers you only defer your own ends," he exclaimed in ringing tones. "The airship is not yet ready for flight, nor is she open to inspection. A trial flight has been fixed for Monday next. On that day the aerodrome will be thrown open to public inspection. And," he added, with a disarming smile, "there will be no charge for admission." Almost instantly the demeanour of the crowd changed. There were calls for cheers for Sir Reginald Fosterdyke. Someone started singing: "For he’s a jolly good fellow." The baronet turned and hurried away precipitately. Publicity he hated. Kenneth and Peter, taking advantage of this diversion, slipped inside the barrier and found Fosterdyke awaiting them beyond the bend of the carriage drive. "Good old British public," he exclaimed. "By Jove! They put the wind up me. I thought that they would be swarming like locusts over the ’Golden Hind.’ We’ll have to circumvent them. Only last night some of the crew found a fellow prowling round the shed. Goodness only knows what for. He pitched some sort of yarn, and since we aren’t under the Defence of the Realm Act I couldn’t detain him. But this crowd scares me. We’ll get out to-night, even if we have to drift, and they can have the run of the place on Monday, as I promised. But I said nothing about the airship being here or otherwise. Where’s your kit?" "Somewhere between here and Blandford railway station," replied Peter. "We saw we’d have our work cut out to force our way through, so we told the taxi-driver to take it back to the station. It isn’t the first time we’ve parted with our kit, eh, Kenneth?" "I’ll send for it when the crowd thins," decided Sir Reginald. "Now I suppose you’re wondering why I telegraphed for you?" "The swarm outside offers a solution," said Kenyon.