One of the latter, the first he took, began with an apology to Butteridge for not writing to him in English before, and for the inconvenience and delay that had been caused him by that, and went on to matter that Bert found exciting in, the highest degree. “We can understand entirely the difficulties of your position, and that you shall possibly be watched at the present juncture.--But, sir, we do not believe that any serious obstacles will be put in your way if you wished to endeavour to leave the country and come to us with your plans by the customary routes--either via Dover, Ostend, Boulogne, or Dieppe. We find it difficult to think you are right in supposing yourself to be in danger of murder for your invaluable invention.” “Funny!” said Bert, and meditated. Then he went through the other letters. “They seem to want him to come,” said Bert, “but they don't seem hurting themselves to get 'im. Or else they're shamming don't care to get his prices down. “They don't quite seem to be the gov'ment,” he reflected, after an interval. “It's more like some firm's paper. All this printed stuff at the top. Drachenflieger. Drachenballons. Ballonstoffe. Kugelballons. Greek to me. “But he was trying to sell his blessed secret abroad. That's all right. No Greek about that! Gollys! Here IS the secret!” He tumbled off the seat, opened the locker, and had the portfolio open before him on the folding-table. It was full of drawings done in the peculiar flat style and conventional colours engineers adopt. And, in, addition there were some rather under-exposed photographs, obviously done by an amateur, at close quarters, of the actual machine's mutterings had made, in its shed near the Crystal Palace. Bert found he was trembling. “Lord” he said, “here am I and the whole blessed secret of flying--lost up here on the roof of everywhere. “Let's see!” He fell to studying the drawings and comparing them with the photographs. They puzzled him. Half of them seemed to be missing. He tried to imagine how they fitted together, and found the effort too great for his mind. “It's tryin',” said Bert. “I wish I'd been brought up to the engineering. If I could only make it out!” He went to the side of the car and remained for a time staring with unseeing eyes at a huge cluster of great clouds--a cluster of slowly dissolving Monte Rosas, sunlit below. His attention was arrested by a strange black spot that moved over them. It alarmed him. It was a black spot moving slowly with him far below, following him down there, indefatigably, over the cloud mountains. Why should such a thing follow him? What could it be?... He had an inspiration. “Uv course!” he said. It was the shadow of the balloon. But he still watched it dubiously for a time. He returned to the plans on the table. He spent a long afternoon between his struggles to understand them and fits of meditation. He evolved a remarkable new sentence in French.