“Being human, though crazy, he will do that. But there is a method in his madness. Having accomplished several remarkable things, he has proved that thus far all has gone right with him. Now, my dear boy, while he is sure he will sooner or later cross the Atlantic, he will not start till he is ready and his machine fit. Therefore, I repeat that days and perhaps weeks will pass before he makes the attempt of which other aviators are still dreaming.”
“And what will he do in the meantime?”
Detective Pendar shrugged his shoulders.
“Experiment.”
“You encourage me by what you say, but from what point is he likely to start?”
“Naturally where the width of the ocean is narrowest. He will not leave the New Jersey or New York or New England coast, but in my judgment will bid North America good-bye at Quebec or its neighborhood and head directly eastward for Liverpool.”
“What is the distance between those two cities?”
“Twenty-six hundred miles. Say he can average seventy-five miles an hour.”
The detective did a little mental figuring.
“If he can do that and has no accident, he will reach Liverpool in one day and a half after leaving Quebec. If he can make a hundred miles an hour—and depend upon it the aviators of the near future will surpass that speed—he can bid Canada good-bye in the afternoon and watch the sun set in England on the following day.”