The situation was now serious indeed. Could they get to Jules in time? A wireless message bade him hasten.

“Ten miles more, Dick,” said Yvette at last, “and then I can make three miles and the glide as we come down. It’s lucky we are so high; we ought to do it.”

Then seven or eight miles away a column of vapour rose from the water ahead. Jules had fired a smoke bomb to guide them! Their petrol was almost gone. But as the engine flickered out and stopped Yvette, with a cry of joy, pointed to a tiny dot on the sea which they knew was Jules rushing to their help. A rocket shot up from the launch.

“He sees us!” said Dick, as Yvette set the Mohawk on a flat downward slant. Two minutes later they struck the water with a mighty splash just as the motor-launch tore up, flinging a cloud of spray into the air as she rushed to their rescue. They were safe and they had saved a throne! But the gallant Mohawk sank to the bottom of the Adriatic.

There was no revolution in Galdavia. With the damning evidence of the film and the phonograph record the Allies acted promptly, and with the traitor Mestich dead the plot went to pieces. King Milenko rules to-day over a contented, happy and prosperous people, and his early follies laid aside has become a capable and popular ruler. Fédor they never saw again; he was killed in a motor smash a week after they left, and the secret of his wonderful invention died with him.

Chapter Three.

The Seven Dots.

In a cosy little house at Veneux Nadon, near Moret-sur-Loing, in the great Forest of Fontainebleau, Dick, Yvette, and Jules were seated in earnest conversation. They made a remarkable trio. Dick was unmistakably English, Yvette and her brother as unmistakably French—the girl dark-haired and dark-eyed, and with all the grace and vivacity which distinguish Frenchwomen of the better class. Her brother, quiet and dreamy, lacked his sister’s vivacity, but there was a suggestion of strength and iron resolution in the firm mouth and steely eyes.

“It will be terribly dangerous, Dick,” said Yvette, with an altogether new note of anxiety in her voice.

“I suppose it will,” replied Dick, “but,”—and his voice hardened as he spoke—“I don’t see what else we can do. We cannot run the risk of seeing a perfected helicopter in German hands. It would be too fearful a weapon. We must get hold of the plans and destroy the machine, whatever the risk may be.”

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