"He is not easy to get on with," sighed Dan, "I can see that." However, he took the girl's advice and went into the shed after the ungracious inventor, leaving the lovers to return to the cottage parlor, which they did forthwith. Laurance was quite astute enough to lose no time, since the moments spent with Mildred were all golden and not easily obtainable. Dan marched into the shed with a fine air of possession, and again surveyed Vincent, who was examining some specifications near a window. The man was carelessly dressed in a shabby suit of blue serge, and seemed to care little about his personal appearance. Marking once more his shaggy hair and beard, and yellow skin considerably wrinkled, the young man went up to him. As if waking from a dream, Vincent looked up, and Dan met the gaze of two very keen dark eyes, whose expression was anything but amiable. "Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the owner of the eyes crossly. "My name is Halliday. I want a machine to race between London and York. I have just been introduced to you by your niece."
"My niece should have more sense than to have brought you here," cried the inventor fiercely; "you come to spy out my ideas and to steal them."
"I assure you I don't," said Dan drily. "I am not a genius as you are."
"All the more reason you should pick my brains," snapped Vincent in no way mollified by the compliment as Dan intended he should be. Halliday laughed. "If I did, I could make no use of my pickings, Mr. Vincent, as you may guess. I can handle a machine, but I can't put one together."
"Who told you about me?" demanded the man suspiciously. "Laurance."
"He's a meddlesome fool."
"Well," said Dan cheerfully, "there may be two opinions about that you know."
"I don't want him, and I don't want you, and I don't want any one. Why do you come and bother me when I don't want you?"
"Because my wants are to be considered. See here, Mr. Vincent," added Halliday in a coaxing voice, for he saw that it was necessary to humor this clever man like a child, "there is to be a race between London and York for a big prize given by The Moment, the paper Mr. Laurance works for. I wish to compete, but my machine isn't so good as I should like it to be. I hear that you have made several improvements which make for speed and easier handling of aeroplanes. Let me have one of your latest, and I'll share the prize with you. It's two thousand, you know."
"I don't want money," snapped Vincent abruptly. "I congratulate you," said Dan coolly; "and yet large sums must be needed to help you to build machines. You must be rich. Are you rich?" Vincent grew a dusky red, and glanced in an odd way over his shoulder, as if he expected to find some one at his elbow. "Mind your own business," he said in a harsh voice, and with suppressed fury; "whether I'm rich or not is my business. You shan't have an aeroplane of mine. Clear out." Dan did clear out, but as he went, wondered why the man was so angry and confused. He seemed quite afraid of the simple question that had been put to him.