“Well, there’s no _hurry_, is there? And as for carrying capacity—_I_ don’t intend to tempt the fates, or run the risk of a smash-up like—who was it? Icarus? Thought so.” Tom adopted the suggestion. He replaced his first engine by two somewhat smaller, so that if one became overheated there was the other in reserve. The lifting capacity and the speed of the airship were consequently diminished, but scarcely so much as Tom expected. So far the experiments had been carried on with perfect secrecy. The enclosure was surrounded by trees, and Tom was always careful not to drive his machine above the level of their tops. But one day, a few months after Schwab’s visit, he was careering round, to the mingled admiration and terror of Timothy Ball watching him from the ground, when he was startled by an exclamation that certainly did not spring from the lips of that worthy. Timothy was a good quarter-mile away; the voice appeared to come from a spot almost vertically below the aeroplane. “By George! Look there, Mops!” Tom took a hurried peep over. There, below him, in a gap between the trees just beyond the inner fence, stood a tall young fellow in tennis flannels, with light blue cap and tie. “What is it, Pops?” answered a silvery voice; and a second figure joined the first—a girl in white. “Why, look! Hanged if it isn’t an aeroplane, going like one o’clock, too.” “Oh, how dreadful!” cried the girl, looking up. “I am sure it will fall, and there will be a horrid accident. Oh, do come away, Raymond!” “Not I! This is hot stuff, Mopsy. By Jove, the fellow can steer the thing. He’s making for that shanty over there—and coming down like a lark. I say, Mops, give me a leg-up; I want to have a nearer squint at the machine.” “But, Raymond, it’s no business of yours—it’s—it’s trespassing!” “Trespassing be hanged! We’re next-door neighbours. Come, give me a shove up.” He clutched the top of the fence; his sister, still feebly expostulating, gave him a most workmanlike hoist, and in a few seconds he disappeared on the other side. The girl waited a little; then turned and walked away. Her brother meanwhile was hastening across the field towards the workshop, near which the aeroplane had by this time alighted. Halfway he was met by Timothy Ball, who touched his cap and said— “Beg pardon, sir, but these are private grounds and you’re a trespasser.” “That’s all right. My name’s Oliphant; we’re neighbours of yours, you know.” “Now, that’s a good un. Hold hard, sir”—as the intruder made to walk round him—“my orders is to allow no one on the premises! Your name’s Oliphant, you said? Well, you can’t be a neighbour, ’cos the only neighbour I knows of is Lord Langside.” “He’s my father.” “But—Oliphant——” “Exactly! Now, come along, my good fellow—I want to see your master.” “He don’t want to see you, though. No you don’t; keep off, sir; my orders is to allow no one on the premises.”