"I thought you would know more than he," said Silverdale, and left. Wilkins came downstairs on his heels, in a huff, and walked towards Ludgate Hill. Silverdale thought he would have another shot, and followed him unseen. The two men jumped into a train, and after an endless-seeming journey arrived at the Crystal Palace. A monster balloon was going off from the grounds. Herr Nickeldorf, the great aeronaut, was making in solitude an experimental night excursion to Calais, as if anxious to meet his fate by moonlight alone. Wilkins rushed up to Nickeldorf, who was standing among the ropes giving directions. "Go avay!" said Nickeldorf, when he saw him. "I hafe nodings to say to you. You makes me _schwitzen_." He jumped into the car and bade the men let go. Ordinarily Wilkins would have been satisfied with this ample material for half a column, but he was still in a bad temper, and, as the car was sailing slowly upwards, he jumped in, and the aeronaut gave himself up for pumped. In an instant, moved by an irresistible impulse, Silverdale gave a great leap and stood by the _Moon_-man's side. The balloon shot up and the roar of the crowd became a faint murmur as the planet flew from beneath their feet. "Good-evening, Mr. Wilkins," said Lord Silverdale. "I should just like to interview you about----" "You jackanapes!" cried the _Moon_-man, pale with anger, "If you don't go away at once, I'll kick you down stairs." [Illustration: _Go away, or I'll kick you Down Stairs._] "My dear Mr. Wilkins," suavely replied Lord Silverdale, "I will willingly go down, provided you accompany me. I am sure Herr Nickeldorf is anxious to drop both of us." "_Wirklich_," replied the aeronaut "Well, lend us a parachute," said Silverdale. "No, danks. Beobles never return barachutes." "Well, we won't go without one. I forgot to bring mine with me. I didn't know I was going to have such a high old time." "By what right, sir," said Mr. Wilkins, who had been struggling with an attack of speechlessness, "do you persecute me like this? _You_ are not a member of the Fourth Estate." "No, I belong merely to the Second." "Eh? What? A Peer!" "I am Lord Silverdale." "No, indeed! Lord Silverdale!" "Lord Silverdale!" echoed the aeronaut, letting two sand-bags fall into the clouds. Most people lose their ballast in the presence of the aristocracy. "Oh, I am so glad! I have long been anxious to meet your lordship," said the _Moon_-man, taking out his notebook. "What is your lordship's opinion of the best fifty books for the working man's library?" "I have not yet written fifty books." "Ah!" said the _Moon_-man, carefully noting down the reply. "And when is your lordship's next book coming out?" "I cannot say." "Thank you," said the _Moon_-man, writing it down. "Will it be poetry or prose?" "That is as the critics shall decide." "Is it true that your lordship has been converted to Catholicism?" "I believe not."