The mate was quite emphatic, when cross-examined by a representative of the Admiralty, that the machine was not a seaplane. It made no attempt to alight on the water, but circled round the tramp for the best part of twenty minutes before administering the _coup de grâce_. Unarmed, the _Falling Star_ could offer no resistance, and, as if gloating over its advantage, the Hun machine performed weird stunts above the tramp. Then, vol-planing down to within two hundred feet, the Boche dropped a heavy bomb that struck the ship fairly amidships, killing three and wounding seven members of the crew, including the whole of the engine-room staff. The _Falling Star_ sank rapidly, so that there was barely time to lower away the only boat that had escaped serious damage from the explosion. Into her crowded eleven men, who, thinking that they were fortunate in getting clear of the foundering vessel, began to pull for the distant shore. Alas for a vain hope! The Hun, flying in a comparatively small circle, deliberately machine-gunned the hapless boat until, satisfying himself that the fell work was accomplished, the German airman flew off, gloating over his gallant victory over another of the strafed Englander's merchantmen. "Unless I'm very much mistaken," said Biggs, when the three cadets were on their way back to the aerodrome, "that low-down Boche is an old acquaintance. I remember back in '17 that a 'plane marked as described was causing us a great deal of trouble. The Boche's name was Count Hertz von Peilfell. Our fellows were particularly anxious to bring him down. He was a bold flyer, and not at all particular as to his manners and customs. He was up to all the dirtiest tricks imaginable, and, when he wasn't night-bombing over our lines, was wandering across this side of the Channel. He boasted that he had taken part in three raids on London, and had sunk at least half a dozen Allied merchantmen by means of bombs. We gave him a warm reception over Dunkirk, and that was the last time he put in an appearance as far as we knew. Perhaps he was resting and recuperating his jangled nerves. However, if this blighter is Von Peilfell, I hope I'll meet him again, and then let the better man win." For the next few weeks the work at Averleigh aerodrome proceeded briskly and strenuously. Somewhat to his surprise and delight, Derek Daventry was passed out after a comparatively short course, and given his commission and appointed to a home counties flying-station. Biggs, too, was able to discard the white band round his cap, and was promptly sent across to the Somme front; but Kaye was not so fortunate. Greatly to that worthy's disappointment, he was put back for another course, for reasons best known to the instructors at Averleigh T.D.S.