“Didn’t hear you coming,” he apologized. “Sit down, won’t you?” he indicated two chairs drawn up to the other side of the table.
The girl and boy sat on the edge of the chairs and stared interestedly at the blue prints before them.
“A new motor?” Bruce asked; his technical eye had already recognized the sketches.
The pilot nodded. He leaned toward them confidentially. “Are you sure there is no one but me on this island?”
“I don’t think there is anyone else,” Gale said. “No one ever comes here but us.”
“Queer,” Brent Stockton murmured. “All day I’ve had the feeling that someone was watching me.”
“Must be your nerves,” Bruce smiled. “What did you want to see us about?”
The pilot threw down his pencil and folded his arms while he regarded them with a half frown. “Have you ever heard of me?” he asked surprisingly.
“You’re an inventor,” Gale said immediately. “You invented a new type of parachute or something a few months ago.”
He nodded. His voice was low when he spoke and the two young people bent forward so as not to miss a single word.