“Then you could live as long as your provisions lasted on the Argenta?” asked Desmond. “You are not dependent on the outer world for anything?”
“We are dependent only on ourselves,” replied Sir John.
“Why, it’s like a fairy tale,” said Mavis.
“Tea,” said a voice from behind them. “Tea, Mrs. Forsyth.” It was Hector. Masters had unobtrusively left while they were all talking, and Hector had turned cook.
“Tea is served in the Bows,” said Hector again.
Masters had drawn back the shutters, and once again the little room was flooded with sunshine. The telephone bell tinkled. “Well, Masters?”
“We are passing over Whitby, sir. Do you wish to cut across country direct for Dalmyrnie, or will you go right round by the coast?”
“Time is getting on. I think we had better make straight for home.”
“Very good, sir.”
“It’s been a wonderful success,” said Alan. “More wonderful than I could have dreamed possible.” Sir John beamed at the praise. “But, Uncle John, leave your atmospheric experiments until I come back from Kalvar. I’d love to accompany you on your adventures.”