The moon had set, and the flight was continued in almost total darkness.  At length, shortly before four o’clock in the morning, Smith caught sight of lights ahead.  He had touched at Penang some years before, when his first ship was on her way out to the Australian station, and he knew that the most suitable place for alighting was a large open space, clear of vegetation and buildings, about a mile from the port.  In a few minutes the aeroplane was flying over the sleeping town.  He slackened speed, and circled around for some time, seeking the spot with the aid of his searchlight.  He discovered it with more ease than he had dared to hope, and bidding Rodier look out for obstacles, descended to the ground.

“Here we are, Miss Bunce,” he said cheerfully, as he stepped out.  “I hope you feel none the worse for your ride.”

“It is wonderful,” said the girl.  “I shall never forget it.”

“The question is, what are we to do now?  Your father mentioned a friend of his, but as I have little time to spare I think you had better come with me to my friend Mr. Daventry.  He is in the administration here, and I am sure Mrs. Daventry will be glad to do anything she can for you.  You see, I can find my way there in the dark, I think, whereas we should have to wait until daylight to find your father’s friend, and that would be a nuisance in every way.”

“I will do whatever you think best.”

Leaving Rodier with the aeroplane, the other two set off towards the town.

“You will try to send help to Father?” said the girl.

“As soon as it’s light.  This is Sunday morning, by the way. You’re all right, but I’m afraid I look far from Sundayish.  Still, no one can see me, and I shall be off before the people go to church.”

“So soon as that?  Aren’t you very tired?”

“Not so tired as I’ve been in the manoeuvres.  We get a nap in turn, you know.”

“How can you sleep when you’re in such terrible danger?”

“Well, you see I’m used to it.  We don’t think of the danger.  Perhaps it’s because I’ve never had a bad accident.  The want of a decent meal is the worst of it.  We haven’t had one since Thursday night, but I daresay we can keep going on light fare for another three or four days.”

“You know I’ve often wanted to go up in an aeroplane, though I suspect I should have backed out if I had really had the chance.  I’m very glad Father insisted on my coming, but I wish it had been daylight; I could only hold on and try not to be afraid.”

“I’m sorry we can’t take you with us—­no, I don’t quite mean that, Miss Bunce; of course you couldn’t come careering about; what I mean is that I shall be very glad to take you a daylight trip one of these days if you care to come—­when we get back home, of course.  Captain Bunce was kind enough to give me an invitation; he said you would give me a cup of tea—­”

“And sing to you!  I know exactly what he said; but you mustn’t pay too much attention to Father.  He’s a dear old man, but quite absurd over my little accomplishments.”