"I'm quite sure of that, Claude," Roseye declared. "There are lots of flying-men who, if given bombs to-morrow, would go up and cross to the enemy aircraft centres in Belgium or Schleswig and drop them--even at risk of being shot down." "Well, Sir Herbert," I ventured, laughing, "the situation is not without its humour. I don't know whether it has ever occurred to you that, in order not to unduly alarm the public, we may yet have certain regulations posted upon our hoardings that may prohibit Zeppelin commanders from cruising over England without licences; that they must have red rear-lights; they must put silencers upon their engines, and must not throw orange peel, paper bags, bottle or other refuse within the meaning of the Act into the streets in such a manner as to cause any danger to foot-passengers or create litter such as would come beneath the powers relegated to inspectors of nuisances of Boroughs. Such regulations might, perhaps, make it a penal offence if Zeppelins did not keep to the left in traffic; if bombs were dropped in places other than those properly and purposely illuminated for the purpose, or if they did not travel at a rate faster than the British aircraft." "Really, Claude, that's an awfully humorous idea," remarked Sir Herbert as all at table laughed. "In addition, it might be suggested that the heads of all dogs, ducks, cats, parrots, and the horns of gramophones might be encased in cotton-wool to conceal their whereabouts, that no smoking be permitted, and no artificial light between one hour before sunset and one hour after sunrise." "Exactly," I laughed. "And an inter-departmental committee of the red-tabbed might be charged with the due execution of the regulations-- all offenders to be shot at sunrise following the day whereon any breach of the Defence of the Zeppelin Act were committed." "Really you're too bad!" declared Eastwell, laughing heartily as he held his glass poised in his hand. "Well," I protested. "Here we've had Zeppelins killing people. Surely something must be done! Either regulate the Zeppelin traffic, or else fight them." "I'm all for the latter," declared Roseye. "So am I," was my remark. "And I also," declared Eastwell. "_But how_?--that's the question!" Roseye exchanged glances with me, and I wondered whether he noticed them. Somehow I had just a faint suspicion that he did, for I detected a curious expression upon his lips--a look such as I had never seen there before. He made no remark, but busied himself with the excellently-cooked snipe before him. Fortunately Lionel Eastwell was not aware of our secret--the secret of that brown deal box which we were so rapidly perfecting.