“Or maybe Germany wants it to supplement their rumored fleet of Zeppelins for the long-planned raid on England,” added Ned.
All three could not help but laugh heartily at the diversity of opinions thus expressed. In the midst of their merriment the telephone on Major Honeywell’s desk began suddenly to ring insistently.
“Hello,” called the Major, with the receiver to his ear. “Yes, yes. This is the offices of the Universal Transportation Company, Major Baldwin Honeywell, the treasurer, talking.... What?... Speak a little louder and more slowly, please; I can hardly understand you.... Yes.... Mr. Phillips approached me about the sale of the Ocean Flyer this morning.... Oh! you are speaking for him. I see.... No, we have decided not to sell the airship.... No, not to sell it.... No, no, the price was quite gratifying, but the Flyer is not for sale.... Positively, sir!... You are wishing to give twenty-five thousand dollars more?... Hold the wire.”
Major Honeywell rolled a wild eye at the intently listening boys. Both shook their heads emphatically. The Major turned again to the telephone.
“I’m sorry, sir, but our decision is not to sell the Flyer at any price whatever.... No, I am sure that we shall not change our minds about it.... All right. To whom have I been speaking, please?”
As the Major asked this final question, Ned sprang to an adjacent extension of the telephone. He caught the distant guttural rumble of a heavy voice:
“My name, it is of no matter since you have not the airship for sale. Good-bye.”
The words were spoken with a marked German accent that in some way seemed peculiarly familiar to Ned. He had heard that voice before, and recently too. But where?