"Do you suppose that the Zeppelin was in difficulties, as she was flying so low?" Helen enquired. "It is a perfectly reasonable hypothesis," the Commandant assented. "Two patrol boats were sent out early this morning, in search of her. An old man whom I saw at Waburne declares that she passed like a long, black cloud, just over his head, and that he was almost deafened by the noise of the engines. Personally, I cannot believe that they would come down so low unless she was in some trouble." The door of the comfortable library in which they were seated was suddenly thrown open. An exceedingly alert-looking young lady, very much befreckled, and as yet unemancipated from the long plaits of the schoolroom, came in like a whirlwind. In her hand she carried a man's Homburg hat, which she waved aloft in triumph. "Come in, Arthur," she shouted to a young subaltern who was hovering in the background. "Look what I've got, Helen! A trophy! Just look, Mr. Harrison and Captain Griffiths! I found it in a bush, not twenty yards from where the observation car came down." Helen turned the hat around in amused bewilderment. "But, my dear child," she exclaimed, "this is nothing but an ordinary hat! People who travel in Zeppelins don't wear things like that. How do you do, Mr. Somerfield?" she added, smiling at the young man who had followed Nora into the room. "Don't they!" the latter retorted, with an air of superior knowledge. "Just look here!" She turned down the lining and showed it to them. "What do you make of that?" she asked triumphantly. Helen gazed at the gold-printed letters a little incredulously. "Read it out," Nora insisted. Helen obeyed: "Schmidt, Berlin, Unter den Linden, 127."
