I was really glad to place Holly Farm behind me. It certainly was not a "healthy" spot, as far as we were concerned. The low-down cunning of our enemies had once more been revealed. Yet how I longed for Roseye to tell me the actual truth! Why did she so persistently refuse? What could she have to hide from me--the man who loved her so very dearly. We trusted each other. She had trusted her life to me in the air on many occasions--even on the previous night. Yet she remained silent. The day was bright and crisp, with a slight north-westerly wind and a few scudding clouds. Very soon, when we had risen to about four thousand feet--for I had determined to fly high again--I saw a big seaplane coming up from the coast. It passed us about four miles distant and then I gave over the dual controls to Teddy, so that he might get used to them ready for the crucial test when it must mean either destruction to a Zeppelin, or to ourselves. Teddy was a first-rate patriot. There was nothing of the milk-and-water type about him, and yet, at the same time, he was nothing of a lady's man. He was always courteous, humorous, and charming with the fair sex, but he preferred to read and smoke his rather foul briar pipe, than to go out of an evening into the glitter and clatter of London life. But we were friends--firm friends, and he was just as prepared and keen to take the risk as I was. We found Tonbridge quite easily. Below us what looked like a toy-train was puffing along towards Dover, leaving a white streak of steam behind. For a few minutes I made a short circuit over the town in order to find the line that ran across to Sevenoaks, and at last, distinguishing it, I made my way over that rather scattered place and then struck another railway line at a place marked upon the map as Fawkham, after which I soon picked out the shining river with Gravesend on one bank and Tilbury on the other. I glanced at the altimeter. We were 10,500 feet up. Below us all was misty in the valley of the river. Then over the brown land of Essex I sped forward until I again found another railway line at Brentwood and, following it, soon saw my landmark--one which I need not refer to here, for I have no desire to instruct enemy airmen. Nothing extraordinary had met my eye. I was used to the patchwork landscape. Then began a search for a convenient field in which to land. I came down from ten thousand to a thousand feet in long sweeping circles, examining each grass meadow as I went. The lower I came, the more easily could I distinguish the pastures and ploughed land and woods. A train was passing and I noted the direction of the smoke--most important in making a landing. Teddy at my side, as practised as I was myself in flying, had never moved. Through his big goggles he was gazing down, trying to decide upon a landing-place, just as I was. I banked for a moment. Then put her nose down and then, finding no spot attractive, climbed again.