Part 10 (1/2)
”Champagne!” the youth cried eagerly, holding out his hand.
”The only wine for the conquerors,” the other declared, pouring it out into the thick tumblers. ”Drink, all of you, to the Franklin Flying Machine, to the millions she will earn--to to-morrow night!”
The youth drained his gla.s.s, watched it replenished, and drained it again. Then they went out to the car.
”There is one thing yet to be done,” he said. ”Wait here for me.”
They waited whilst he climbed up toward the shed. The two men watched him. A little group of rustics stood open-mouthed around the great car.
Then there was a little shout. From above their heads came the sound of a great explosion--red flames were leaping up from that black barn to the sky. The two men looked at one another. They rushed to the hill and met the youth descending.
”What the--”
He stopped them.
”I dared not leave it here,” he explained. ”It would have been madness.
I am perfectly certain that I have been watched during the last few days. I can build another in a week. I have the plans in my pocket for every part.”
The older man wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
”You are sure--that you have the plans?” he asked.
The youth struck himself on the chest.
”They are here,” he answered, ”every one of them!”
”Perhaps you are right, then,” the other man answered. ”It gave me a turn, though. You are sure that you can make it again in the time you say?”
”Of course!” the youth answered, impatiently. ”Besides, the thing is so simple. It speaks for itself.”
They climbed into the car, and in a few minutes were rus.h.i.+ng away southwards.
”To-morrow night--to-morrow night it all begins!” the youth continued.
”I must start with ready-made clothes. I'll get the best I can, eat the best I can, drink wine, go to the music halls. To-morrow night.”
His speech ended in a wail--a strange, half-stifled cry which rang out with a chill, ghostly sound upon the black silence. His face was covered with a wet towel, a ghastly odor was in his nostrils, his lips refused to utter any further sound. He lay back among the cus.h.i.+ons, senseless.
The car slowed down.
”Get the papers, quick!” the elder man muttered, opening the youth's coat. ”Here they are! Catch hold, d.i.c.k! My G.o.d! What's that?”
He shook from head to foot. The little fair man looked at him with contempt.
”A sheep bell on the moor,” he said. ”Are you sure you have everything?”
”Yes!” the other muttered.
They both stood up and raised the prostrate form between them. Below them were the black waters of the lake.
”Over with him!” the younger said. ”Quick!”