The Zeppelin Destroyer: Being Some Chapters of Secret History. Le Queux William
somewhat upset me, yet, after all, though they had cruelly assaulted poor old Theed, no very great success had been theirs.
Who were they? That was the vital question.
Just as I was on the point of starting I saw Lionel Eastwell coming from the hangar, walking behind his own machine, which was being pushed out by his man Barnes and two others.
I waved to him from my seat, and he waved a merry greeting back to me.
Then, all being ready, I motioned to Theed to let her go, and with a deafening rush I shot forward, leaving behind a pungent blue trail from the big exhaust.
I rose quickly and had begun the ascent, the engine running beautifully, when of a sudden, before I was aware of it, something went wrong.
A sharp crack, a harsh tearing sound, and one of my wings collapsed. Across the back I was struck a most violent blow just as she took a nose-dive, and then, next instant, all knowledge of what had happened became blotted out by a dark night of unconsciousness.
Chapter Seven
Reveals a Plot
The next that I recollect is, with my brain awhirl, I tried to open my eyes, but so painful were they, that I was compelled to close them again in fearful agony.
Somebody whispered close to me, but my mind was too muddled to understand what was said.
My eyes burned in their sockets; my brain seemed unbalanced and aflame. I tried to think, but alas! could not. When I tried to recollect, all remembrance of the past seemed as though it were wrapped up in cotton-wool.
How long I remained in that comatose state I have no idea.
Some unknown hand forced between my teeth a few drops of liquid, which with difficulty I swallowed. This revived me, I know, for slowly – very slowly – the frightful pain across my brow decreased, and my burning eyes became easier until, at last, blinking, I managed to open them just a little.
All was dead white before me – the white wall of a hospital-ward I eventually discovered it to be – and as I gazed slowly around, still dazed and wondering, I saw a man in black, a doctor, with two nurses standing anxiously beside my bed.
“Hulloa, Mr Munro,” he exclaimed softly. “You’re better now, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “But – but where am I?”
“Never mind where you are. Just go to sleep again for a bit,” the doctor urged. “You’re all right – and you’ll very soon be up again, which is the one thing that matters,” I heard him say.
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