“Nothing particular was found of the people,” he answered; “but there seems to be an idea that they were foreign tourists. It’s one to you, Miss Anne. No one ever seems to get killed in a balloon, unless they go to the North Pole.” “Ballooning is no more dangerous than football,” answered Miss Trevelyan, turning her back to the fireplace and looking round the room. “You get rather bumped about sometimes, in coming down, but that’s all. Why don’t you try it?” She looked about her vaguely. “Is that meant for me?” inquired Lionel. “It’s meant for anybody who will come with me next time.” The brothers had dropped their newspapers and were listening, and the Colonel had turned in his seat, after finishing his note, and was looking at her. “We can’t all go,” observed Claude. “And as I have no time for that sort of thing,” said Lionel, “the choice is not large, for I don’t suppose the Governor is going in for aeronautics.” “Why not?” asked the Colonel, perennially young. “I wonder what the Lady would say?” laughed Claude. “Of course my brother will go with us, so it will be quite proper,” said Miss Anne coolly. “The Governor is welcome to my place,” said Claude. “I’ve promised to ride a steeplechase next month, and I’m not very keen about breaking any bones before it comes off.” “That narrows the invitation to the Governor and Jocelyn,” observed Lionel, “and I’ll lay odds that the Governor will be the only one of the family who will accept.” “What odds?” inquired Jocelyn, who had not spoken yet. “Oh, anything,” laughed Lionel. “Five to one if you like.” “Tens?” Jocelyn asked. “Yes; I’ll go fifty against it.” “Done!” answered Jocelyn promptly, for he was hard up, and Lionel knew it. “Will you really come?” asked Anne, affecting cold surprise. “Rather!” “Jocelyn was always a sordid beast,” observed Claude in a brotherly manner. “He’d sell his soul for fifty pounds.” But Jocelyn remained unmoved. “I don’t know about my soul,” he answered, “but you may have the brown filly at the price.” “That imp of Satan? Not much!” Jocelyn made no answer to Claude’s disparaging remark about the filly, but turned to Miss Trevelyan in a businesslike manner. “When is it to be, and where?” he asked. “We’ll make the usual start,” Anne answered. “But we shall have to wait till Bob’s wrist is all right again.” “He isn’t wearing it in a sling any more,” said Jocelyn, who, for reasons of his own, was in a hurry to win his brother’s money. “Call it three weeks from Monday,” said Anne, after a moment’s thought, during which she had mentally run over the list of her numerous engagements. “I’ll let you know the hour. We’ll start no matter what the weather is, of course. We always do.” So the matter was settled much more easily than she had anticipated, and she was proportionately grateful to Lionel for making her lose her own small bet.