"It is Miss Moon who is doing this for you," rejoined Halliday, saying what was perfectly true; "she asked me to help you. I suppose she comes sometimes to Lord Curberry's house?"
"Oh, yes," said Penn, with a swift glance at him, "her uncle, Sir John, and Miss Moon and Mrs. Bolstreath dined with Lord Curberry last week. I am afraid, Mr. Halliday," added the secretary timidly, "that you will lose Miss Moon." Dan laughed cheerfully. "I don't think so. Why should I?"
"Her uncle is very anxious for her to marry Lord Curberry, who is also very desirous to make Miss Moon his wife."
"That shows Curberry's good taste," said Halliday rising, and putting on his cap. "However, she is to be my wife, and Curberry and Sir John can go hang."
"I should not be so sure, Mr. Halliday," said Penn, in a mysterious manner, "when Lord Curberry wants anything, he generally gets it."
"He is crying for the moon just now," said the other man making a pun, "and the moon is no man's property. However, I must go off to start for my flying practise. I am going to compete in the London to York race next week. Come with me and see me start. As to your stories, you can send them to me at my old address, which you knew when you were with Sir Charles. I shall see Mr. Laurance about them."
"You are good," murmured Penn, drawing a long breath and following Dan out of the inn. "I am obliged to you."
"To Miss Moon, you mean. She is the one who takes an interest in your literary efforts. But come along and see my machine. I got it from an inventor called Vincent," and Dan turned suddenly to shoot an inquiring glance at his companion. It occurred to him that Penn might have heard the name since Penn had the perfume as well as Mrs. Jarsell, who knew the inventor. But evidently Penn had not heard the name, for he gave no sign of knowledge. "I hope it is a good machine," he said innocently and weakly. "Very good," said Halliday, as they halted near the great doors of the shed, "a clipper. Why not try a fly with me?" "Oh!" Penn shrank back. "I should be afraid."
"Nonsense, man!" joked the aviator while the aeroplane was wheeled out, and the usual crowd of onlookers began to gather. "As a literary man you ought to experience all sensation so as to write about it. Coming stories will be full of flying-machines and airships."
"Isn't it dangerous?" asked Penn, looking at the delicate structure which appeared almost too fragile to sustain one person, let alone two. "Not at all, especially if one doesn't do any fancy flying, which I shall avoid if you come with me."