"They are a simple and primitive type of people who still inhabit those forest wastes; wood cutters, lumbermen, makers of little wooden clocks and musical boxes, most of them, I believe," added Sharpe, who had often traversed those regions as a British spy during the Great War. "Then they should be easier to handle," added the commissioner of aerial police, who had a ready method of brushing away apparent difficulties. "I am compelled to rely almost entirely upon your efforts. Take your pocket-wireless telephones with you and a sufficient quantity of German gold and silver, and start directly you have had a few hours’ rest." "We will get away immediately after breakfast, sir," replied Keane, who had already made up his mind as to how he should proceed in the matter, for he had fixed up his jumping-off ground for the Schwarzwald, and also the type of disguise he intended to adopt. "Good-bye, both of you, and may good fortune attend you!" said the colonel. "Good-bye, sir." Big Ben was striking three o’clock as they left Scotland Yard and made for their quarters, which were in that part of London known as The Adelphi, a quaint, old-fashioned ensemble of buildings of the Georgian period, overlooking the Thames, not far from the Watergate. A few minutes later they bade each other good-night, and turned in for a few hours’ sleep before their long flight across England and France. At seven o’clock they were breakfasting together in a private room overlooking the river, and discussing the details of their coming adventure. "The Schwarzwald!" Sharpe was saying, as he helped himself to another egg and a rasher of ham. "Where do you think, now, we had better start from, Captain Keane?" "Mulhausen," replied the other promptly, for with Keane the initial procedure was already cut and dried. "Mulhausen? Capital! I was thinking of Strasburg, but your idea is better still. Is there a good aerodrome there where we can land?" "Yes, on the banks of the little river Ill, which runs into the Rhine a little lower down. And once across the Rhine we are already in the Black Forest, though we shall still have a long tramp to the place which I suspect," added Keane, pouring out another cup of coffee. "Oh, yes, I remember the place; the aerodrome is near the junction of the Rhine-Rhone Canal," replied his companion. "You’ve got it, exactly. Now we must get away; it must already be seven o’clock, and a fine morning to boot. What says the weather report about the Channel crossing?" "Here it is," exclaimed Sharpe, passing a copy of the _Times_ across to his friend, who turned over the pages and read as follows:-- "Flying prospects for to-day:--South-east England and Continent, including the Channel crossing, favourable for flying for all types of machines till mid-day, after that conditions will deteriorate, squalls and heavy rains will predominate, visibility will be poor, and conditions will become unsuitable for cross-country flying."