And his benefactor was helpless. As Carl lay back watching his accomplice through half-closed lids, he was bound to admit that here was one item in which his scheme of attacking Andrew Provost had miscarried. Adolf Fruhmann had got disgracefully out of hand, and was almost unmanageable. He had picked him out of the gutter merely for a purpose, and knowing that for gold this rascal would do almost anything. And now he was actually afraid of the man, dared not order him away, was fearful that a word from him might jeopardize his, Carl Reitberg's own position.
"Well, I suppose I shall have to put up with the nuisance," he reflected, as he scowled at his companion. "After all, it will not be for long, and later, when I have made use of him, why there are ways of ridding oneself of a nuisance. Now," he said aloud, "you were asking about this brilliant inspiration."
"I am incredulous. Carl Reitberg with an inspiration worth hearing of!"
The man was positively offensive, and caused the fat and pompous Carl to squirm, while the ferrety little eyes, sunk behind their lashes, positively glared at the rascal who had spoken.
"Well, let us hear it," said Adolf flippantly, flicking his cigar ash with one finger, and inspecting the glowing end with every sign of approval. "Carl Reitberg has an inspiration; his friends long to hear all about it."
"It is about the airship," began Carl, ignoring the man's words, though his cheeks were purple.
"It always is," came the retort. "You dream of the thing; you think of it by day and night. That hundred thousand pounds weighs as heavily as a ton of lead."
"And rightly so," Carl answered sharply. "I was deluded, I say. I had no idea that this Joe Gresson could succeed in his undertaking, I——"
"Exactly," came the dry answer. "If you had been fully awake you'd never have issued that challenge. You were too cocksure, Carl. You put down that money feeling that it was safe. Now you're doubtful. So am I. You'll lose it if all that the papers report is correct. Just fancy! the ship sails across to Adrianople quicker than an aeroplane could take you. She hovers over the city. She rises and falls and disappears at will. Then she heads back for England, while her wireless tells The Daily Flier all the news. If that hundred thousand pounds were mine—and some of it will be according to our agreement—why, I'd begin to get fidgety. I'd begin to dream and seek for inspirations. Well, what's yours?"
"I use the wireless also. I call up the ship. I follow the idea of behaving as a sportsman."