Sir John rubbed his hand affectionately over the shimmering metal. It meant everything to him since his nephews had gone.
“It’s beautiful, Masters!” said he, and there was a note of triumph in his voice. “It’s perfect.”
“Yes, sir. Three hundred miles an hour we ought to do comfortably, that is the minimum, and from four hundred and fifty to five hundred at express speed.”
“You’ve worked with me very faithfully, Masters. It was good of you to pander to the whim of an old man, and bury yourself up here.”
“I was only too glad to come, Sir John,” answered Masters. “For forty-five years I worked in your office—your father’s it was then, sir. I was the first to congratulate him after Victoria, God bless her, had made him a baronet. For over twenty years I was your confidential servant—”
“Friend! Masters, friend!” gently corrected Sir John.
“Well, friend, if I may say so. I was always interested in electricity and mechanics, and when you started experimenting, it was me you asked to help you. I have never forgotten that, Sir John, and now I am proud to have been the one to see the work of years rewarded by such success.”
“Where is Hector this morning?”
“He has motored to Arroch Head for the letters.”
“Is it the day?”