Peter hastened to give the necessary orders. Presently he returned. "No news of the Hun, sir," he reported. "The Yankee airship made a bad landing at Port Denison, Queensland, and was totally destroyed by fire." "Hard lines," remarked Fosterdyke, feelingly. "Commodore Nye is a good sport. I hope he wasn’t injured?" "Far from it," replied Bramsdean. "In fact he’s reported to have cabled to Melbourne asking the Victorian Government if they can sell him a Vickers-Vimy, so that he can continue the contest." "Good luck to him, then!" exclaimed the baronet. "And the Jap?" "Looks like a winner, sir," replied Peter. "The quadruplane is reported passing over Calcutta." "Next to beating Fritz myself, the Jap is the fellow I hope will do it," remarked Fosterdyke. "By Jove! I’d like to know where von Sinzig is and what he’s doing." The "Golden Hind," now virtually a heavier-than-air machine, was doing her level best to make up for the unlucky contretemps that had delayed her for eight precious hours. Unaccountably the reduction of the volume of brodium in her ballonets, although the rigid aluminium envelope had not appreciably contracted, had resulted in a marked increase of speed. Judging by the time she took to cover the distance between Panama and Nevis, in the Lesser Antilles--a distance of 1250 miles--her speed over the water was not far short of 190 miles an hour. "If those two props had not been crippled," lamented Kenyon, "we’d be doing a good two hundred." "I’m content," rejoined Fosterdyke, "provided we can keep it up. If we don’t lap Z64 in another twelve hours, you can jolly well boot me, Kenyon!" A few minutes later the wireless operator appeared and handed Fosterdyke a long written message. The baronet’s face was a study of varying emotions as he read the news. Kenyon, watching him, wondered what had happened. Not that he was surprised; after the experiences of the last week or so, it would take something very much out of the common to take Kenneth Kenyon aback. "Evidently our friend von Sinzig has butted in where he didn’t ought," remarked Fosterdyke, handing his companion the slip of paper. It was a general Marconigram communication to the Press Agency, and read as follows: