"And this," he said, "is the Newdick helicopter."
Simon glanced over it vacuously, and looked about him.
"Where are all your workmen today?" he asked.
"They are on holiday," said Mr. Newdick, making a mental note to engage some picturesque mechanics the next day. "An old custom of the firm. I always give them a full day's holiday on the anniversary of my dear mother's death." He wiped away a tear and changed the subject. "How would you like to take a flight?"
"Jolly good idea," agreed the Saint.
The helicopter was wheeled out, and while it was warming up, Simon revealed that he also was a flier and possessed a license for helicopters. Mr. Newdick complimented him gravely. They made a ten-minute flight, and when they had landed again the Saint remained in his seat.
"D'you mind if I try her out myself?" he said. "I won't ask you to take the flight with me."
The machine was not fitted with dual control, but it was well insured. Mr. Newdick only hesitated a moment. He was very anxious to please.
"Certainly," he said. "Give her a thorough test yourself, and you'll see that she's a good bus."
Simon took the ship off and climbed towards the north. When Mr. Newdick's tiny aerodrome was out of sight he put the helicopter through every test he could think of, and the results amazed him even while they only confirmed the remarkable impression he had gained while Mr. Newdick was flying it.