"Good-bye. Don't kiss me, or I shall break down again;" and with that we went down to the two men who were impatiently waiting for us.
"You've been a long time," said Glocken in a surly tone. "There's something gone wrong with the machine."
"How do you know?"
"I tried to start," said Vandervelt. "Glocken told me your sister had decided not to go with me."
"That was a misunderstanding. I forgot I had this in my pocket;" and I showed them the little part I had brought away. "Rather lucky, wasn't it, Glocken?"
He looked as if he would gladly have struck me, and muttered something about being sorry for the mistake.
Nessa did not speak a word as we crossed the fields, dropping a pace or two behind us, and keeping her eyes on the ground. She could scarcely have been more dejected had she been on her way to the scaffold.
I repeated the instructions to Vandervelt about Nessa, and again he promised to carry them out faithfully. When we reached the bus a minute or two put her in trim again, and I made a final test of the engine. Then I got down, helped Nessa into her place, fastened the strap round her, and held her hand while the Dutchman climbed to his seat.
She returned the pressure with a choking sigh, but could not trust herself to speak.
Then I shook hands with the pilot, thanked him, and at the same time punished the farmer for his intended treachery. "I know you'll take good care of my sister, Vandervelt; and don't forget I'm paying Glocken a thousand marks passage money. Good luck."