Before the evil-smelling vapour had dispersed the "Golden Hind," turning head to wind, was over the spot searching for possible survivors. For half an hour she cruised round, but her efforts to rescue the three Huns were unavailing. The men had either been stunned by the explosion or had been hit by falling wreckage. Amongst them was Unter-Leutnant Hans Leutter, who, by resolutely refusing to leave his command until the rest of the crew were safe, had proved that all Hun officers were not of the von Sinzig type. Several of the rescued Germans could speak English--but they were decidedly reticent. In the back of their minds they rather feared that they were in for a bad time. They knew that their late kapitan had been practically outlawed and that he was "wanted" by the authorities for having, amongst other misdemeanours, destroyed the Fremantle aerodrome by means of an incendiary bomb. They rather expected that they would be blamed for the acts of their fugitive superior. On the other hand, they were grateful to their rescuers for having saved their lives, and with typical Teutonic reasoning they eventually decided that one way to repay the kindness and to ingratiate themselves in the eyes of the Englishman would be to give away their former officers. The spokesman led off by informing Sir Reginald Fosterdyke that Unter-Leutnant Hans Leutter was the person who dropped the incendiary bomb from the observation basket in the hope that it would destroy the "Golden Hind." "He was, of course, acting under Count von Sinzig’s orders," remarked Fosterdyke, drily. "Where is Herr Leutter?" "Dead," was the reply. "He was one of the three left on Z64." "And Count von Sinzig was one of the other two?" The German airman shrugged his shoulders and made a gesture of disgust. He still rankled over his kapitan’s cowardly desertion. It was long obvious to all the survivors of Z64 that von Sinzig had no intention of summoning aid. Eight hours had elapsed since he began his flight in the Albatross. In that time he must have sighted several vessels, since the scene of the disaster was not many miles from one of the great Atlantic trade routes. "Kapitan Count von Sinzig left Z64 soon after daybreak this morning, mein Herr," replied the German. "At seven o’clock, to be exact." "Left--how?" demanded Fosterdyke, sharply. "In an Albatross monoplane. He was last seen going east-north-east." Fosterdyke dismissed his informant and turned to Kenyon and Bramsdean. "The cunning old rascal!" he exclaimed. "I see his little game now. He’s completing the final stage by aeroplane. I suppose by this time he’s won the Chauvasse Prize; but I don’t envy him." "Will you enter a protest, sir?" asked Peter. "Protest? Not much," replied the baronet, emphatically. "These seventeen Huns can do the protesting if they want to, and I rather fancy they will." "There’s many a slip," quoted Kenyon. "He may not complete the course after all."