THE young inventor was out at the flying field in his air togs going over every detail of his machine when Mary Nestor arrived in the auto driven by a messenger Tom often employed. “Hello!” called the girl, as she leaped out of the car. She, too, wore a leather flying suit, for Tom had told her to put it on. “Hello,” responded Tom. “All ready?” “Yes. But I want to talk to you, and we can’t do it very well with the engine going. It makes such a noise.” “This one doesn’t make as much racket as some do, for I’ve got a muffler on her,” Tom replied. “But still you can’t exactly carry on a whispered conversation in the _Hummer_.” “This conversation is going to be—well rather private,” returned Mary in a low voice, with a glance toward the man who had brought her over in the car. “We might start off, land in some lonely field, and talk there,” Tom suggested. “I could throttle down the engine just enough to keep her turning over, and yet not running enough to make the plane even taxi.” “Why can’t you do that here?” asked Mary. “I want to tell you what I have to say, Tom, at once, as you might want to act on it.” “Well, I can have him turn the propellers and get her started,” answered the youth, with a glance at his helper. “Then, with the engine idling, you can tell me the story while he goes back in the auto.” “Do that,” suggested the girl. “I want to get it off my mind.” Accordingly, while Tom vainly wondered what his sweetheart could have to say to him of such importance, he took his place in the forward cockpit, in charge of the control levers, while the man stationed himself at the propellers. The _Hummer_ was comparatively easy to start. After the engine had been turned over once or twice, with the accompanying coughs and sighs, it started with a thundering roar that made the ground throb. Tom let it run until it was well warmed up. Then, knowing it would keep going at low speed without moving the plane, he throttled the gas down, adjusted the spark, and signed for his helper to leave. “Now, Mary, I’m ready to hear your story,” he said as he walked with his friend a short distance away from the _Hummer_. “It’s a queer story,” said the girl. “And as soon as I heard it I started to call you on the ’phone. I was just going to take down the receiver when you called me.” “When did you hear this—whatever it is?” asked Tom, who was becoming more and more mystified by Mary’s evident concern. “Just this morning,” she answered. “I was over in Mansburg doing some early shopping with Kate Borden. Shopping always makes me terribly hungry, as it does Kate, so about noon we went into a small restaurant for lunch.” “And I suppose you had mislaid your money and couldn’t pay, and you had to blush and ask the manager to trust you, and now you want to go there in the plane and settle your debts. Is that it?” asked Tom, with a laugh.