Potter was astonished at the number. “Really?” he asked.
“That many will be absolutely necessary, and the best and fastest ’planes that can be had. Where will we get twenty-five thousand of them?”
“God knows,” said Potter.
“Mr. Waite, the War Department is not sleeping. Will it surprise you to know that I came to Detroit solely to have this talk with you?”
“With me?”
“We know all about you, and about every other amateur aviator in the country. All about you,” the major repeated.
“I’m surprised you found it worth your while to come, then,” Potter said, with, a trace of bitterness.
“For instance,” said the major, “we know what happened in your Pontchartrain Hotel the night the Lusitania was sunk.”
Potter flushed angrily, but made no reply.
“The manner of it,” said the major, quietly, “was regrettable. The impulse behind it—and we looked for that impulse—was hoped to be something not regrettable. I came to find out that and other things. I have not come to offer advice, Mr. Waite, merely to get information valuable to our country.... Had you thought you might be valuable?”