"No. I want you to tell me," I said. "If danger really besets both of us, is it not your duty to explain the facts to me, and leave me to take steps to protect ourselves?" "Yes. I would tell you, dear--only--only--" "Only what?" "Only--well--only I can't!" she answered evasively. Then, a second later, she added: "I told you, Claude, long ago that I couldn't tell you anything." "You hold some secret; and yet you conceal it from me!" I remarked in a tone of reproach. "Because--because I am compelled. I--I am in fear--in deadly fear, Claude!" "In fear of what?" I asked, for I saw by her demeanour that such was the nerve-strain that she was on the point of tears. For a second she hesitated. Then she said: "In fear of that woman--the one with the Leopard's Eyes." I saw it was quite useless to argue further with her while driving, for we were then travelling at a great pace, and had already passed the four-ways at the Cross-in-Hand. She lapsed into a long silence, seated immovably at my side, her gaze was fixed blankly upon the muddy road that constantly opened out before us. On the previous night we had been flying over that very road. I remarked upon it, in order to change the conversation, but she only nodded. Truly her figure was a pathetic one, for she had turned back her veil, so that the air might cool her troubled brain. As a result that passing glimpse of the mysterious woman whom she held in such fearsome terror, her whole attitude had again in become changed. She looked wild and haggard, and in her great blue eyes, so clear and trustful, there was a queer, uncanny look that caused me both wonderment and apprehension. On we went, through Hailsham and Polegate, until we ran over the steep hill at Willingdon, and at last descended through Eastbourne Old Town, until we reached the busy Terminus Road of the fashionable go-ahead watering-place, the road which led to the fine sea-front so beloved by the summer visitor. Roseye having done her shopping in the Terminus Road, we ran along past the Wish Tower to the Grand Hotel, where we took tea at one of the little wicker tables in the glass-fronted lounge, and afterwards smoked cigarettes. Though it was winter, the hotel was filled by a smart crowd. I met Tringham, who had learnt flying with me and who was now a naval Flight-Commander. He was with his young wife and we four had a long gossip, but of course I said nothing of our secret flight on the previous night. Naturally, our talk was of Zeppelins, and in the course of our chat Tringham, who was in naval uniform, discussed with me what was necessary to damage a Zeppelin sufficiently to bring her down.