CHAPTER V
THE RAID ON LONDON
It was the night of the fourteenth of October, in the year 1915.
Sir Herbert and Lady Lethmere, with Roseye—who looked charming in pink—were dining en famille in Cadogan Gardens. The only two guests were Lionel Eastwell and myself.
'Terrible—is it not?' Lady Lethmere remarked to me, as I sat on her right. 'We were at the Lyric Theatre when the Zeppelins came last night. We heard the guns firing. It was most alarming. They must have caused damage in London somewhere. Isn't it too awful?'
'And at other places, I fear,' remarked Sir Herbert, a fine outspoken, grey-haired, rather portly man, who had crowned his career as a Sheffield steel manufacturer by receiving a knighthood. He spoke with the pleasant burr of the north country.
'Well, the noise of the guns was terrific,' his wife went on. 'Fortunately there was no panic whatever in the theatre. The people were splendid. The manager at once came on the stage and urged us all to keep our seats—and most people did so.
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