Burton was so much accustomed to voyage in the air that he had ceased to pay much attention to the ordinary scenes on the earth beneath him. But he had completed nearly a third of his course when his eye was momentarily arrested by the sight of two motor-cycles, rapidly crossing the railway bridge at Snipeshill. To one of them was attached a side car, apparently occupied. Motor-cycles were frequently to be seen along the Canterbury road, but Burton was struck with a passing wonder that these cyclists had quitted the highway, and were careering along a road that led to no place of either interest or importance. If they were exploring they would soon realise that they had wasted their time, for the by-road rejoined the main road a few miles further east. On arriving at Chatham, Burton did not descend near the cemetery, as he might have done with his landing chassis, but passed over the town and alighted in the Medway opposite the "Sun" pier. Thence he made his way to the address in the High Street given him by Micklewright. He was annoyed when he found the place closed. "Just like old Pickles!" he thought. "He forgot it’s Saturday." But, loth to have made his journey for nothing, he inquired for the private residence of the proprietor of the store, and luckily finding him at home, made known the object of his visit. "I’m sorry I shall have to ask you to wait, sir," said the man. "The place is locked up, as you saw; my men have gone home, and I’ve an engagement that will keep me for an hour or so; perhaps I could send it over--some time this evening?" "No, I’d better wait. Dr. Micklewright wants the stuff as soon as possible. When will it be ready?" "If you’ll be at the store at three o’clock I will have it ready packed." It was now nearly two. "No time to fly back to lunch and come again," thought Burton, as he departed. "I’ll get something to eat at the ’Sun,’ and ring old Pickles up and explain." He made his way to the hotel, a little annoyed at wasting so fine an afternoon. Entering the telephone box he gave Micklewright’s number and waited. Presently a girl’s voice said-- "There’s no reply. Shall I ring you off?" "Oh! Try again, will you, please?" Micklewright often took off the receiver in the laboratory, to avoid interruption during his experiments, and Burton supposed that such was the case now. He waited; a minute or two passed; then the girl’s voice again-- "I can’t put you on. There’s something wrong with the line." "Thank you very much," said Burton; he was always specially polite to the anonymous girls of the telephone exchange, because "they always sound so worried, poor things," as he said. "Bad luck all the time," he thought, as he hung up the receiver.