“The machine itself is complete,” went on Desmond enthusiastically, “the balance is perfect, and its engines are supposed to be of wonderful velocity, but no known power will raise it even an inch from the ground. So he is still experimenting on this spirit. It is a formula which embraces petrol, radium and theolin; these chemicals are blended in some way or other—concentrated and solidified. The engines are made so as to generate electricity in the bonnet part. The current acts on the solidified cubes, which as they melt are sent through metal retorts drop by drop, and then being conveyed to the engines should make the machine fly.” “Well?” “I know it all sounds very fantastic, but my uncle firmly believes in the ultimate success of his experiments. His ambition is to be able to fly for about one hundred hours with about a cupful of this powerful matter. He expects each drop of the vaporized spirit, as it issues from the retort, to keep the engines going about fifty minutes.” “It all sounds very interesting,” said Mr. Winthrop “but is extremely puzzling. I am afraid I would rather trust myself to Mother Earth than to your uncle’s very ingenious ‘Argenta’.” “So would I,” laughed Desmond. “But the dear old boy is so keen on his work, we don’t like to discourage him” “And” finished Alan “there in a most wonderful shed, rests the ‘Argenta’; its body of glistening aluminium—its interior richly upholstered and wonderfully arranged from engine room to kitchen, but absolutely lifeless. And there I expect it will remain, for he will never destroy it. It is his biggest hobby after us—sometimes I think it even comes before us. He has the money, he has the brains, he may perfect this power, and if he does, he will have conferred a great benefit upon humanity” “You stayed with him until you came here, I suppose?” “Yes” answered Alan “We went to Eton—Cambridge—” “Cambridge?” Mr. Winthrop’s face lighted up “Dear me! Dear me! What College, may I ask?” “Queens” said Desmond. “Queens? That was my College” “Indeed” cried the two boys together. “Yes, I’ve not been there for over forty-five years. I expect the dear old place has changed a great deal?” “Yes. We had rooms opposite each other on the same staircase in the New Buildings” said Desmond. “That was since my time” said Mr. Winthrop rather sadly “I’ve never even seen the New Buildings. I was in the Walnut-Tree Court” Then he stopped, and gazed into the fire, his eyes sparkling and a colour coming into his old, worn cheeks, as he thought of the days of his youth. Reminiscences came quickly. “Do you remember this?” “I remember when so-and-so happened” So the conversation went on until they were rudely interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, startling in its unexpectedness. All three rose hurriedly. “Come in” cried the vicar and Mrs. Skeet appeared breathing heavily, with a look of horror in her eyes.