He pressed a button, turned a lever, and we slowed down.
"They want to speak to us, and perhaps it will be just as well to give them a chance."
A man was waving a white flag, evidently intended to attract our attention. He appeared to be some high functionary of the town, judging from his dress and general deportment. He held a paper in his other hand, which he indicated was for us. Torrence waved his handkerchief in reply, and pulled the air ship down to a dead halt, about two hundred and fifty feet above the level of the street.
"It may be the injunction!" I suggested.
"Too late for that now," said Torrence; "they can't enjoin me after I've left. But I don't want them to know my course, and shall therefore humbug them a little."
He looked earnestly above at a great white cloud that had crept up from the southwest, and which had now nearly covered the sky. He then took a pencil, and with a writing pad resting on the rail, wrote:
"If you have any communication to make I will let down a line."
This he threw overboard. It was picked up immediately, and handed to the official who was standing quite separate from the others. Shouts of "lower your line!" were now heard distinctly, and in another minute we had dropped a cord overboard, with a screw tied to the end for a weight. It did not take long to draw up the line again, at the end of which was an official looking document. Torrence tore open the envelope hastily, and began reading. In a minute he thrust it into his pocket and said:
"Rot!"
"What's the matter?" I asked him.