"Did you say that German inventor's name was Eberhard?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Wait a minute. Something's coming back to me. Eberhard, Eberhard—yes, I'm sure that was the name."
"Tell me."
"Eberhard was a Johnny who'd got some patent process he applied to steel. I can't put the thing properly because I haven't got the scientific knowledge—but I know the result was that it became so toughened that a wire was as strong as a steel bar had previously been. Eberhard had to do with aeroplanes and his idea was that the weight would be so enormously reduced that flying would be practically revolutionized—the cost of it, I mean. I believe he offered his invention to the German Government, and they turned it down, pointed out some undeniable flaw in it—but they did it rather nastily. He set to work and circumvented the difficulty, whatever it was, but he'd been offended by their attitude and swore they shouldn't have his ewe lamb. I always thought the whole thing was probably bunkum, but now—it looks differently."
"That's it," said Bundle eagerly. "You must be right, Jimmy. Eberhard must have offered his invention to our Government. They've been taking, or are going to take, Sir Oswald Coote's expert opinion on it. There's going to be an unofficial conference at the Abbey. Sir Oswald, George, the Air Minister and Eberhard. Eberhard will have the plans or the process or whatever you call it—"
"Formula," suggested Jimmy. "I think 'formula' is a good word myself."
"He'll have the formula with him, and the Seven Dials are out to steal the formula. I remember the Russian saying it was worth millions."
"I suppose it would be," said Jimmy.
"And well worth a few lives—that's what the other man said."