tons of metal at thousands of miles an hour through the air is fascinating.'
Khune directed Barney to drive the car round to the back of one of the big steel and glass blocks, and at an entrance to it that had above the doorway, in bold lettering, 'a five', they all got out.
As it was a Sunday the door was shut, but Khune pressed a bell-push and after a few minutes it was opened by a portly elderly man, in a dark blue uniform. He gave Khune one look, then his eyes grew round and he exclaimed:
'Lord alive, Sir! Did you have a crash?'
'Crash! What d'you mean?' Khune frowned.
'Why, for the moment I thought you was a ghost. Can't be more than an hour and a half since you left for Scotland.'
'Scotland?'
'Yes, Sir. You came here round half past two. Special order, you said. Needed urgent for our place in the 'Ebrides. I got hold of Tommy Carden and we loaded twenty drums out of the store on to a runabout. He drove you with it out to the airstrip and when he got back he told me you meant to deliver it yourself and had gone off with it in a plane. Leastways, that's what I thought he said.'
Verney, Khune and Barney stared at the man dumbfounded. The same awful thought was in all their minds. Lothar had never intended to keep the appointment on Lone Tree Hill. He had made it only to get Otto out of the Station for the afternoon. He had arrived there in an aeroplane and impersonated his brother. He had not got the formula, but he had done far better. He had made off with twenty drums of the fuel all ready for use.
CHAPTER XVII UNHAPPY RETURN
Verney was quick to realize that unless he intervened at once, Otto might say something that would start all sorts of undesirable rumours running round the Station, so he glanced at his watch and said:
'I really think we ought to postpone our visit to your laboratory, Mr. Khune, until after we have been along to the airstrip. Perhaps we'll have time to see it later.'
Khune gave him a blank stare for a moment, then took the hint, muttered something to the doorkeeper about 'change of plans' and turned back to the car. They all got in it and, as soon as the engine was running, he exclaimed:
'It must have been Lothar! How utterly damnable! Yet there's no other explanation.'
'None, I'm afraid,' C.B. agreed grimly. 'I didn't want you to start cross-questioning that chap, because the fewer people to get wind of it that something's wrong, the better. He was quite definite though, and he can hardly have been dreaming. We'll know for certain as soon as we get to the airstrip. Is it usual to send the stuff up to Scotland in an aircraft?'
'Yes. It's not only quicker, but safer, than rail, and if some of it went astray....' Khune broke off short, and ended with a groan.
'It looks as if twenty drums of it has! Is that the normal quantity in a consignment??
'No. Usually we send eighty to a hundred drums at a time.'
'Lothar was clever then, in not opening his mouth too wide.
The doorkeeper must assume that you know your own stock, and he might have thought it fishy if Lothar, whom he took to be you, had asked for a greater number than there happened to be available. I take it, too, that quite a small part of what he's got would be sufficient for him to have the stuff analysed, and after that there would be no limit to the quantity that could be made up?'
'The analysis would take time, and they might not get the formula exactly; but near enough. And the Russians have many clever chemists, so they might even improve on it.'
'How often do you send consignments up to Scotland?'
'As required; but, on average, about once every three weeks. We send larger consignments now to Australia for the I.C.B.M. range there, but less frequently.'
By this time they were approaching the air strip. The aircraft that had taken the American up to Farnborough that morning, and since returned to collect C.B. and Barney, stood at one end of it; but evidently Forsby had not yet succeeded in getting hold of the pilot, as there was no sign of life. Neither was there any sign of life near the two hangars, in the control tower or at the building that housed the small ground staff. Barney drove up to the latter and they got out.
The building contained only an office and off-duty room on the ground floor and a dormitory for half-a-dozen men above. Verney hurried into the office, found it deserted, then crossed the passage and strode into the room opposite. An R.A.F. Corporal was lounging there with his feet up, reading a Sunday paper. Verney addressed him sharply.
'I am a colleague of Squadron-Leader Forsby's. Are you the duty N.C.O.??
'Yes, Sir.' The corporal replied, coming quickly to his feet and switching off the radio.
'I understand that about half past two an aircraft came in and took off about half an hour later.'
'That's right, Sir,' the man confirmed their worst fears. 'Quite unexpected it was. Usually we are warned in advance and given the E.T.A. in ample time for whichever of us is on duty to get hold of the others and man the control tower. But with good weather, like it is today, and the strip clear that isn't really necessary. All the same, it's against regulations, and I was a bit took aback.'
'What did you do?'
'I walked over, Sir, and had a word with the pilot. He said that he had come down from our I.C.B.M. Station in the Hebrides to pick up some stuff that was wanted urgent, and he couldn't understand why they had failed to send us a signal about him.'
'What did you do then?'
