I did not want to land too near the town, for I had no desire to attract undue attention. I was trying to find a certain main road, for, truth to tell, I had been up very early that morning consulting my maps. On that main road were two or three farms in which I hoped I could shelter my machine, just as I had done at Holly Farm. I suppose we spent perhaps nearly half an hour in the air before, after critical examination, I decided to descend into a large park before a good-sized old Georgian house belonging, no doubt, to some county family. Parks, provided they have few trees, are always desired by the aviator as landing-places. Indeed, as I circled round I could plainly see that several figures, attracted by the heavy, roar of my engine, were standing outside watching us. Two minutes later I brought the machine round to the wind. Down went her nose--down, down. The air screamed about our ears. The earth rushed up to meet us, as it always seems to do. Truth to tell, by my own fault, I had had a nasty nose-dive, but I righted her and, touching the grass, managed to pull up dead. Teddy, who had been watching it all, never turned a hair. Only when I shut off the roar of the engine, he remarked: "By Jove! Devilish good landing! That nose-dive was rather a nasty one, Claude--wasn't it?" And, unstrapping himself, he hopped out and sought his cigarette-case from his hip-pocket, as was his habit. We were close against the big, rather ugly country house, therefore, leaving the machine, we went up and soon found its owner--a retired colonel of the usual JP type--hard on poachers when on the County Bench, I expect. Still, he welcomed us warmly and was, we found, quite a good sort. I asked him to take us aside, and he conducted us to the library, a fine old-fashioned room lined with brown-backed books. There I told him the truth--of what we were after. "Well," said the white-haired old man, looking me up and down, "you seem a pretty keen young fellow, and your friend also. If you are over here on such a mission then I hope you will, both of you, consider yourselves my guests. I've a big barn beyond the stables where I can garage your machine quite well." Then I told him of the trio who were on their way to the King's Head, in G--. "I shall only be too delighted to be their host," he replied at once. "I know Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere well, but I don't believe I've ever met their daughter." Then he introduced his wife, a rather youngly-dressed woman, whose eyes were "made-up" and the artificiality of whose cheeks were just a trifle too transparent. But artificiality seems fashionable to-day. We duly put the machine away into the barn and later, when we sat at tea in the drawing-room, the conversation naturally turned upon Zeppelins. Colonel Cator, for such we had found our host's name to be, held rather sceptical views regarding the power of aeroplanes to combat airships, and he waxed distinctly humorous as we sat together.