The Flying Girl

CHAPTER XIII
SYBIL IS CRITICAL

Steve was now progressing finely with the work on the Kane Aircraft and believed he would be able to overcome all the imperfections that had disclosed themselves during the first trial. Mr. Cumberford came to the hangar nearly every day, now, and Steve and Orissa began to wonder how he found time to attend to other business – provided he had any. On the day of Tyler’s visit he had announced it was his last trip to see the Kanes, as he had been summoned to Chicago to attend a directors’ meeting and from there would go on to New York. But having discovered that Burthon was intent upon some secret intrigue, which could bode no good to his protégés – the Kanes – he promptly changed his mind and informed Steve on a subsequent visit that he had arranged affairs at home and was now free to spend the entire winter in Southern California.

“My daughter likes it here,” he added, “and kicks up fewer rows than she does at home; so that’s a strong point in favor of this location. Aviation interests me. I’ve joined the Aëro Club out here and subscribed for the big meet to be held in January, at Dominguez Field. That’s when we are to show the world the Kane invention, my lad, and I think it will be an eye opener to most of the crowd present.”

“How does your mine, the Queen of Hearts, get along?” asked Orissa.

“It continues to pay big – even better than I had hoped. Burthon must be pretty sore over that deal by this time. Speaking of my sainted brother-in-law, I’ve just made a discovery. He owns the mortgage on your place.”

“Why, we got the money from the Security Bank!” exclaimed Orissa.

“I know. I went there. Thought I’d take up the mortgage myself, but found Burthon had bought it. Now, the question is, why?”

Neither brother nor sister could imagine; but Cumberford knew.

“He hopes you won’t be able to meet it, and then he’ll foreclose and turn you out,” he said. “But you’re not the principal game he’s after; he’s shooting me over your heads. Burthon is miffed because I let you have the money, but believes I haven’t any financial or personal interest in you beyond that. If he can prevent your aircraft from flying he’ll make me lose my money and also ruin you two youngsters. That’s doubtless his game. That’s why he sent his man here to spy upon you.”

“But that is absurd! Burthon can’t prevent our success,” declared Steve. “Even if some minor parts go wrong, the aircraft will fly as strongly and as well as anything now in existence.”

“Don’t be too sure,” cautioned Mr. Cumberford. “You and your machine may be all right, but that’s no reason why Burthon can’t push failure at you, or even prevent you from flying. We must watch him.”

“I do not believe the man hates us,” observed Orissa, thoughtfully. “Mr. Burthon is a little queer and – and unscrupulous, at times; but I don’t consider him a bad man, by any means.”

“I know him better than you do, and he hates me desperately,” replied Cumberford.

“He says that – that you abused his sister,” doubtfully remarked the girl.

“Well, I did,” said Cumberford, calmly. “I pounded her two or three times. Once I choked her until it’s a wonder she ever revived.”

“Oh, how dreadful!” exclaimed Orissa, shrinking back.

“Isn’t it?” he agreed, lighting a cigarette. “Only a brute would lift his hand against a woman. But Burthon’s sister – my wife – had a fiendish temper, and her tantrums aroused all the evil in my nature – there’s plenty there, I assure you. It was the time I choked her that Burthon had me arrested for cruelty. She had put poison in my coffee and I took the fluid into court with me. Burthon said I was lying and I asked him to drink the coffee to establish his sister’s innocence. But he wouldn’t. Pity, wasn’t it? The judge begged my pardon and said I ought to have choked her a moment longer. But no; I’m glad I didn’t, for she died naturally in the end. My dear daughter, whom I sincerely love, is like her lamented mother, except that I can trust her not to poison me.”

“Doesn’t she love you in return?” asked Orissa.

“Sybil? Why, she’s tremendously fond of me. My daughter,” and his voice grew suddenly tender, “has been for years – is now – the only person I live for. We’re chums, we two. The poor child can’t help her inherited tendencies, you know, and I rather enjoy the fact that she keeps me guessing what she’s going to do next. It – er – interests me, so to speak. I like Sybil.”

Sybil interested Orissa, too. Her father’s reports of her were so startlingly condemnatory, and his affection for her so evident, that Orissa’s curiosity was aroused concerning her. Mr. Cumberford, in spite of his peculiarities and deprecating remarks concerning himself had won the friendship of both Stephen and Orissa by this time; for whatever he might be to others he had certainly proved himself a friend in need to them. It was evident he liked the Kanes and sought their companionship, for the aircraft could scarcely account for his constant attendance at the hangar.

“I would like to meet your daughter,” said the girl, thoughtfully.

“Would you, really?” he asked, eagerly. “Well, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt Sybil to know you. I’ll bring her out here to-morrow, if she’ll come. Never can tell what she will do or won’t do, you know. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Quite so,” she concurred, laughing at his whimsical tone.

Because of this conversation the Kanes awaited Mr. Cumberford’s arrival next day with keen curiosity. Steve advanced the opinion that the girl wouldn’t come, but Orissa thought she would. And she did. When the motor car stopped in front of the bungalow there was a girl in the back seat and Orissa ran down the path to welcome her.

A pale, composed face looked out from beneath a big black hat with immense black plumes. A black lace waist with black silk bolero and skirt furnished a somber costume scarcely suited to so young a girl, for Sybil Cumberford could not have been much older than Orissa, if any. Her father was right when he claimed that Sybil was not beautiful. She had high, prominent cheek bones, a square chin and a nose with a decided uplift to the point. But her brown hair was profuse and exquisitely silky; her dark eyes large, well opened and far seeing; her slight form carried with unconscious grace.

Orissa’s critical glance took in these points at once, and intuitively she decided that Sybil Cumberford was not unattractive and ought to win friends. That she had a strong personality was evident; also the girl whom her father had affectionately called a “demon” was quiet, reserved and undemonstrative – at least during this first interview.

She acknowledged the introduction to Orissa with a rather haughty bow, alighting from the car without noticing Miss Kane’s outstretched hand.

“Which way is the aëroplane, Daddy?” she asked, speaking not flippantly, but in low, quiet tones.

“I’ll lead the way; you girls may follow,” he said.

As they went up the path Orissa, anxious to be sociable and to put the stranger at her ease, said brightly:

“Don’t you think the ride out here is beautiful?”

“Yes,” responded Sybil.

“The orange groves are so attractive, just now,” continued Orissa.

There was no response.

“I hope you enjoyed it, so you will be tempted to come again,” resumed the little hostess.

Miss Cumberford said nothing. Her father, a step in advance, remarked over his shoulder: “My daughter seldom wastes words. If you wish her to speak you must address to her a direct question; then she will answer it or not, as she pleases. It’s her way, and you’ll have to overlook it.”

Orissa flushed and glanced sidewise to get a peep at Sybil’s face, that she might note how the girl received this personal criticism. But the features were as unemotional as wax and the dark, mysterious eyes were directed toward the hangar, the roof of which now showed plainly. It was hard to continue a conversation under such adverse conditions and Orissa did not try. In silence they traversed the short distance to the shed, where Steve met them, a little abashed at receiving a young lady in his workshop.

But Mr. Cumberford’s daughter never turned her eyes upon him. She gave a graceful little nod when presented to the inventor, but ignored him to stare at the aircraft, which riveted her attention at once.

“This, Sybil,” said her father, enthusiastically, “is the famous aëroplane to be known in history as the Kane Aircraft. It’s as far ahead of the ordinary biplane as a sewing machine is ahead of a needle and thimble. It will do things, you know. So it – er – interests me.”

It seemed to interest her, also. Examining the details of construction with considerable minuteness she began asking questions that rather puzzled Mr. Cumberford, who retreated in favor of Steve. The inventor explained, and as all his heart and soul were in the aëroplane he explained so simply and comprehensively that Sybil’s dark eyes suddenly flashed upon his face, and clung there until the young fellow paused, hesitated, and broke down embarrassed.

Orissa, smiling at Steve’s shyness, picked up the subject and dilated upon it at length, for the girl had every detail at her tongue’s end and understood the mechanism fully as well as her brother did. The visitor listened to her with interest, and when she had no more questions to ask stood in absorbed meditation before the aëroplane, as if in a dream, and wholly disregarded the others present.

CHAPTER XIV
THE FLYING FEVER

Mr. Cumberford said frankly to Steve and Orissa:

“Don’t expect too much of Sybil, or you’ll be disappointed. She’s peculiar, and the things that interest her are often those the world cares nothing for. Anything odd or unusual is sure to strike her fancy; that’s why she’s so enraptured with the aircraft.”

The word enraptured did not seem, to Steve, to describe Sybil’s attitude at all; but Orissa, watching the girl’s face, decided it was especially appropriate. They left her standing before the machine and went on with their work, while Mr. Cumberford ignored his daughter and smoked cigarettes while he watched, as usual, every movement of the young mechanic.

“Saw Burthon this morning,” he remarked, presently.

“Did he say anything?” asked Steve.

“No. Just smiled. That shows he’s up to something. Wonder what it is.”

Steve shook his head.

“I don’t see how that man can possibly injure me,” he said, musingly. “I’ve gone straight ahead, in an honest fashion, and minded my own business. As for the machine, that’s honest, too, and all my improvements are patented.”

“They’re what?”

“Patented, sir; registered in the patent office at Washington.”

“Oho!”

Steve looked at him, surprised.

“Well, sir?”

“You’re an irresponsible idiot, Stephen Kane.”

“Because I patented my inventions?”

“Yes, sir; for placing full descriptions and drawings of them before the public until you’ve startled the aviation world and are ready to advertise what you’ve done.”

Steve stared, a perception of Cumberford’s meaning gradually coming to him.

“Why, as for that,” he said a little uneasily, “no one ever takes the trouble to read up new patents, there are so many of them. And, after all, it’s a protection.”

“Is it? I can put another brace in that new elevator of yours and get a patent on it as an improvement. The brace won’t help it any, but it will give me the right to use it. I’m not positive I couldn’t prevent you from using yours, if I got mine publicly exhibited and on the market first.”

Steve was bewildered, and Orissa looked very grave. But Mr. Cumberford lighted another cigarette and added:

“Nevertheless, I wouldn’t worry. As you say, the patent office is a rubbish heap which few people ever care to examine. Is everything covered by patent?”

“Everything but the new automatic balance. I haven’t had time to send that on.”

“Then don’t.”

“The old one is patented, but it proved a failure and nearly killed me. The one I am now completing is entirely different.”

“Good. Don’t patent it until after the aviation meet. It’s your strongest point. Keep that one surprise, at least, up your sleeve.”

As Steve was considering this advice Sybil Cumberford came softly to her father’s side and said:

“Daddy, I want to fly.”

“To flee or to flew?” he asked, banteringly, at the same time looking at her intently.

“To fly in the air.”

Mr. Cumberford sighed.

“Kane, what will a duplicate of your aircraft cost?”

“I can’t say exactly, sir,” replied the boy, smiling.

“Shall we order one, Sybil?”

She stood staring straight ahead, with that impenetrable, mysterious look in her dark eyes which was so typical of the girl. Cumberford threw away his cigarette and coughed.

“We’ll consider that proposition some time, Steve,” he continued, rather hastily. “Meantime, perhaps my daughter could make a trial flight in your machine.”

“Perhaps,” said Steve, doubtfully.

“Will it carry two?”

“It would support the weight of two easily,” replied the young man; “but I would be obliged to rig up a second seat.”

“Do so, please,” requested Miss Cumberford, in her even, subdued voice. “When will it be ready?”

“The aircraft will be complete in about ten days from now; but before I attempt to carry a passenger I must give it a thorough personal test,” said Steve, with decision. “You may watch my flights, Miss Cumberford, if you wish, and after I’ve proved the thing to be correct and safe I’ll do what I can to favor you – if you’re not afraid, and still want to make the trial.”

“Thank you,” she said, and turned away.

“I’ll go myself, some time,” observed Mr. Cumberford, after a pause. “Flying interests me.”

Orissa was much amused. She had not known many girls of her own age, but such as she had met were all commonplace creatures compared with this strange girl, who at present seemed unable to tear herself away from the airship. Sybil did not convey the impression of being ill-bred or forward, however unconventional she might be; yet it seemed to Orissa that she constantly held herself firmly repressed, yet alert and watchful, much like a tiger crouched ready to spring upon an unsuspecting prey. In spite of this uncanny attribute, Orissa found herself powerfully drawn toward the peculiar girl, and resolved to make an attempt to win her confidence and friendship.

With this thought in mind she joined Sybil, who was again examining the aëroplane with rapt attention. While she stood at her side the girl asked, without glancing up:

“Have you ever made a flight?”

“No,” replied Orissa.

“Why not?”

“I haven’t had an opportunity.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“I imagine I would enjoy a trip through the air,” answered Orissa; “that is, after I became accustomed to being suspended in such a thin element.”

“You seem to understand your brother’s invention perfectly.”

“Oh, I do, in its construction and use. You see, I’ve been with Steve from the beginning; also I’ve examined several other modern aëroplanes and watched the flights at Dominguez Field. Naturally I’m enthusiastic over aviation, but I haven’t yet considered the idea of personally attempting a flight. To manage a machine in the air requires a quick eye, a clear brain and a lot of confidence and courage.”

“Is it so dangerous?” asked Miss Cumberford quietly.

“Not if you have the qualities I mention and a bit of experience or training to help you in emergencies. I’m sure an aëroplane is as safe as a steam car, and a little safer than an automobile; but a certain amount of skill is required to manage even those.”

The girl’s lips curled scornfully, as if she impugned this statement; but she remained silent for a while before continuing her catechism. Then she asked:

“Do you mean to try flying?”

“Perhaps so, some day,” said Orissa, smiling; “when aëroplanes have become so common that my fears are dissipated. But, really, I haven’t given the matter a thought. That is Steve’s business, just now. All I’m trying to do is help him get ready.”

“You believe his device to be practical?”

“It’s the best I have ever seen, and I’ve examined all the famous aëroplanes.”

“What has my father to do with this invention?”

Orissa was surprised.

“Hasn’t he told you?” she asked.

“Only that it ‘interests him;’ but many things do that.”

“We needed money to complete the aircraft, and Mr. Cumberford kindly let us have it,” explained the girl.

“What did he demand in return?”

“Nothing but our promise to repay him in case we succeed.”

Sybil shot a swift glance toward her father.

“Look out for him,” she murmured. “He’s a dangerous man – in business deals.”

“But this isn’t business,” protested Orissa, earnestly; “indeed, his act was wholly irregular from a business standpoint. As a matter of fact, Mr. Cumberford has been very generous and unselfish in his attitude toward us. We like your father, Miss Cumberford, and – we trust him.”

The girl stood silent a moment; then she slowly turned her face to Orissa with a rare and lovely smile which quite redeemed its plainness. From that moment she lost her reserve, toward Orissa at least, and it was evident the praise of her father had fully won her heart.

Day by day, thereafter, Sybil came with Mr. Cumberford to the hangar, until the important time arrived when Steve was to test the reconstructed aircraft. By Cumberford’s advice the trial was made in the early morning, and in order to be present both father and daughter accepted the hospitality of the Kanes for the previous night, Sybil sharing Orissa’s bed while Steve gave up his room to Mr. Cumberford and stretched himself upon a bench in the hangar.

Mrs. Kane knew that her son was to make an attempt to fly at daybreak, but was quite undisturbed. The description of the Kane Aircraft, which Orissa had minutely given her, seemed to inspire her with full confidence, and if she had a thought of danger she never mentioned it to anyone. The Cumberfords were very nice to Mrs. Kane, while she, in return, accepted their friendship unreservedly. Orissa knew her mother to be an excellent judge of character, for while her affliction prevented her from reading a face her ear was trained to catch every inflection of a voice, and by that she judged with rare accuracy. Once she said to her daughter: “Mr. Cumberford is a man with a fine nature who has in some way become embittered; perhaps through unpleasant experiences. He does not know his real self, and mistrusts it; for which reason his actions may at times be eccentric, or even erratic. But under good influences he will be found reliable and a safe friend. His daughter, on the contrary, knows her own character perfectly and abhors it. As circumstances direct she will become very bad or very good, for she has a strong, imperious nature and may only be influenced through her affections. I think it is good for her to have you for a friend.”

This verdict coincided well with Orissa’s own observations and she accepted it as veritable. Yet Sybil was a constant enigma to her and seldom could she understand the impulses that dominated her. The girl was mysterious in many ways. She saw everything and everyone without looking directly at them; she found hidden meanings in the most simple and innocent phrases; always she seemed suspecting an underlying motive in each careless action, and Orissa was often uneasy at Sybil’s implied suggestion that she was not sincere. The girl would be cold and silent for days together; then suddenly become animated and voluble – a mood that suited her much better than the first. Steve said to his sister: “You may always expect the unexpected of Sybil.” Which proved he had also been studying this peculiar girl.

CHAPTER XV
A FINAL TEST

It was the morning of the tenth of December that the eager little group assembled at dawn on Marston’s pasture to witness the test of the Kane Aircraft.

Steve was so occupied with his final adjustments and anxiety lest he should overlook some important point, that he never thought of danger. He would not have remembered even his goggles had not Orissa handed them to him and told him to put them on.

This was the first time Mr. Cumberford had witnessed a performance of the aëroplane, yet he was much less excited than his daughter, who could not withdraw her gaze from the device and was nervously attentive to every move that the young aviator made. Orissa, confident of the result, was most composed of all.

When all was ready Steve took his seat, started the motors, and when they had acquired full speed threw in the clutch. The aëroplane ran less than fifty feet on its wheels before it began to rise, when it steadily soared into the air and mounted to an elevation of several hundred feet. By this time the aviator, who had kept a straight course, was half a dozen miles from the starting point; but now he made a wide circle and, returning, passed over Marston’s pasture at the same high altitude.

The speed of the aircraft was marvelous. Mr. Cumberford declared it was making a mile a minute, which estimate was probably correct. After circling for a while Steve descended to a hundred feet in a straight dive, holding the device in perfect control and maintaining at all times an exact balance. At a hundred feet he tested the rudders thoroughly, proving he could alter his course at will, make sharp turns and circle in a remarkably small space. Then, having been in the air twenty-seven minutes by the watch, he descended to the ground, rolled a hundred feet on his running gear and came to a halt a few paces away from the silent, fascinated group of watchers.

Not a hitch had occurred. The Kane Aircraft was as perfect a creation as its inventor had planned it to be.

Orissa gave Steve a kiss when he alighted, but said not a word. Sybil impulsively seized the aviator’s hands and pressed them until he flushed red. Mr. Cumberford lighted a fresh cigarette, nodded approvingly and said:

“All right, Steve. It – interests me.”

“It almost seemed alive,” remarked Steve, with pardonable exuberance. “Why, I believe it would fly bottom-side-up, if I asked it to!”

“Any changes necessary?” inquired Mr. Cumberford.

“Only one or two, and those unimportant. The steering-wheel is too loose and needs tightening. The left guy-wires are a bit too taut and need to be relieved. Half an hour’s tinkering and the aircraft will be as perfect as I know how to make it.”

As they were wheeling it back to the hangar, Sybil asked:

“Weren’t you frightened, Mr. Kane, when you were so high above the earth?”

“Oh, no; it is far safer a mile up than it is fifty or a hundred feet. There are no dangerous air currents to contend with and the machine glides more smoothly the more air it has underneath it. When I am near the earth I sometimes get a little nervous, but never when I’m far up.”

“But suppose you should fall from that distance?”

“Fall? Oh, but you can’t fall very easily with this sort of a biplane. At any angle it’s a kind of a parachute, you know, for the hinged ends automatically spread themselves against the air pressure. And as for a tumble, you know that a fall of fifty feet would kill one as surely as a fall of several hundred feet. If a fellow can manage to stick to his aëroplane he’s pretty safe.”

“It seems such a frail thing,” observed Sybil, musingly.

“Just wooden ribs and canvas,” laughed Steve; “but anything stronger would be unnecessary, and therefore foolish.”

“Now, then,” said Mr. Cumberford, when the aircraft rested once more upon its rack, “I’ve something to tell you, Kane. I’ve known it for several days, but refrained from speaking until you had made your trial.”

There was an ominous suggestion in the words. Steve turned and looked at him questioningly.

“Any bad news, sir?”

“Time will determine if it’s bad or good. Anyhow, it’s news. Burthon is building an aircraft.”

“An aëroplane?”

“I said an aircraft.”

“But that word designates only my own machine.”

“Burthon is building your machine.”

Steve stared at him, doubtful if he heard aright. Orissa stood motionless, growing white and red by turns. Sybil’s lips curled in a sneer as she said:

“My clever uncle! What a resourceful man he is.”

“I – I don’t believe I understand,” stammered Steve.

“It’s simple enough,” replied Cumberford. “Burthon sent to Washington for copies of your plans and specifications, has built a hangar and workshop over South Pasadena way, and employed a clever mechanic from Cleveland to superintend the construction – already well under way.”

“How do you know this, sir?” inquired Steve, breathless.

“The clever mechanic from Cleveland is my own man, who has been my confidential agent for years.”

“And you permit him to do this work!” cried the young man, indignantly.

“To be sure. If Brewster loses the job, some one will get it who is not my agent. It is the only way I can keep accurate account of what Burthon is up to.”

They were all silent for a time while they considered this startling information. By and by Cumberford said:

“Burthon has joined the Aëro Club, has donated a handsome cup for the best endurance flight during the coming meet at Dominguez, and in some way has made himself so popular with the officials that he has been appointed a member of the committee on arrangements. I dropped in at the Club yesterday, for I’m a member, and made this discovery. My scheming brother-in-law has some dusky, deep laid plan, and is carrying it out with particular attention to detail.”

“Do you think it concerns us, sir?” asked Orissa, anxiously.

“Yes. It isn’t extraordinary that Burthon should take a fancy to aviation. He is full of fads and fancies, and such a thing is liable to interest him. It interests me. But the meat in the nut is the fact that he is building a copy of the Kane Aircraft, merely adding a few details which he will declare are improvements.”

“Can’t we issue an injunction and stop him?” asked Steve.

“I’ve seen a lawyer about that. We can’t prove infringement at this stage of the game and it would be folly to attempt it. Burthon’s plan is to exhibit his machine first, then keep yours off the field during the meet and afterward claim that you are infringing upon his rights. He has organized a stock company, keeping most of the stock himself, has entered his device in all the aviation tournaments throughout the country, and is issuing a circular offering the machines for sale. I have a hand proof, fresh from the printer, of this circular.”

“Who will be his aviator?” asked Steve, with puckered brows.

“His former chauffeur, Mr. Totham Tyler, is one. He is now looking for another, also.”

Steve drew a long breath.

“What can we do?” he asked in a bewildered tone.

“Checkmate him,” was the composed reply.

“How, sir?”

“Well, we know pretty well all Burthon’s plans. He doesn’t suspect we know a thing; believes he will be able to keep his secret until his aëroplane is ready and he can announce it in the newspapers and create a sensation. He has concocted a very pretty trick. Until this date no one has ever heard of the Kane Aircraft. After the Burthon Improved Biplane is exploited and its praise on every tongue, you won’t be able to get even a hearing with your invention, much less a chance to fly it.”

Steve sat down and covered his face with his hands. His attitude was one of despair.

“When will Mr. Burthon’s machine be finished?” asked Orissa, thoughtfully.

“He expects to make the first trial a week from to-morrow. He has kept a force of expert men at work, and they haven’t attempted to make the Kane engines, but are using a type that has worked successfully in many biplanes. So his machine has grown into existence very quickly.”

“A week from to-morrow,” repeated Orissa, softly. “And Steve is ready to-day.”

Steve looked up quickly. Sybil laughed at him.

“You silly boy,” said she. “Can’t you understand what Daddy means by a checkmate?”

Steve turned to Mr. Cumberford, who was lighting a fresh cigarette.

“If you will place the matter in my hands,” said that gentleman, “I will proceed to put a spoke in Burthon’s wheel, so to speak. Heretofore, Steve, I have been a mere onlooker, a – an interested friend, I may say. At this juncture you’d better make me your manager.”

“Would you accept the position?” asked the boy.

“Yes; there isn’t much else to interest me just now, and – I hate Burthon.”

“Poor uncle!” sighed Sybil.

“On what terms will you undertake this, sir?” Steve inquired, with anxiety.

“Why, I may have to spend a lot of money; probably will; and my time’s valuable; when I’m not here I’m moping at the Alexandria Hotel; so I propose you give me ten per cent of your profits for the first three years.”

“That is absurd, sir,” declared Steve. “There will be little profit at first, and ten per cent of it wouldn’t amount to anything.”

Mr. Cumberford smiled – a grim smile that was one of his peculiarities.

“It’ll do, Steve. I’ll make it pay me well, see if I don’t. But you may add to the demand, if you like, by promising to present my daughter the fourth complete Kane Aircraft your factory turns out.”

“The first!” cried Steve.

“No, the fourth. We want the first three to go where they’ll advertise us. Is it a bargain, Mr. Kane?”

Steve grasped his hand.

“Of course, sir,” he replied gratefully. “I’m not sure we can defeat Mr. Burthon’s conspiracy, but I know you will do all that is possible. And thank you, sir,” he added, again pressing the elder man’s hand.

Orissa took Mr. Cumberford’s hand next. She did not express her gratitude in words, but the man understood her and to hide his embarrassment began to search for his cigarette case. As for Sybil, she regarded the scene with an amused smile, and there was a queer look in her dark eyes.

“Now,” said Orissa, “let us go in to breakfast. You must all be nearly famished.”

“Yes; let us eat, so that I can get back to town,” agreed Mr. Cumberford, cheerfully. “The campaign begins this very morning, and it may take a few people by surprise. Remember, Steve, you’re to stand ready to carry out any plans your manager makes.”

“I understand, sir.”