I was afraid to think that all might turn out so well, for in such
case our task would be a simple enough one, and would in all human
probability be crowned with success.

At ten o'clock we started. Teuta did not show the smallest sign of
fear or even uneasiness, though this was the first time she had even
seen an aeroplane at work. She proved to be an admirable passenger
for an airship. She stayed quite still, holding herself rigidly in
the position arranged, by the cords which I had fixed for her.

When I had trued my course by the landmarks and with the compass lit
by the Tiny my electric light in the dark box, I had time to look
about me. All seemed quite dark wherever I looked--to land, or sea,
or sky. But darkness is relative, and though each quarter and spot
looked dark in turn, there was not such absolute darkness as a whole.
I could tell the difference, for instance, between land and sea, no
matter how far off we might be from either. Looking upward, the sky
was dark; yet there was light enough to see, and even distinguish
broad effects. I had no difficulty in distinguishing the Tower
towards which we were moving, and that, after all, was the main
thing. We drifted slowly, very slowly, as the air was still, and I
only used the minimum pressure necessary for the engine. I think I
now understood for the first time the extraordinary value of the
engine with which my Kitson was equipped. It was noiseless, it was
practically of no weight, and it allowed the machine to progress as
easily as the old-fashioned balloon used to drift before a breeze.
Teuta, who had naturally very fine sight, seemed to see even better
than I did, for as we drew nearer to the Tower, and its round, open
top began to articulate itself, she commenced to prepare for her part
of the task. She it was who uncoiled the long drag-rope ready for