“I declare, the only place I like to talk confidences is in a ten acre lot,” he said, “but there is no place for anyone to hang on behind here.” He leaned toward Lawrence. “The new machine, safe and sound last night at least, is back on the sand hills in New Jersey, south of Barnegat. Two fishing launches are there in the inlet, but under the tarpaulins are small but effective machine guns. The fishermen fooling around in them are not as peaceful as they look. They are secret service men. In a hut back on the rise of ground to the west three other fishermen are smoking and lounging. They too have badges under their smocks. So we fooled ’em this time anyway,” laughed the great man.
Lawrence was silent. He felt the thrill of the old knight when he went galloping forth in quest of a dragon. This monster, threatening his country, was as dangerous and mysterious a dragon as any of the two- or ten-headed monsters that sent the fighting men of a long past age scouring over the downs and moors of merry old England.
Being younger, he was not so much inclined to laugh as Mr. Ridgeway. He wondered where the leak was that made it so easy for the dragon to approach.
Parking the car, they went to luncheon and then returned to Mr. Ridgeway’s office, where they found a thick-set man pacing the floor of the waiting-room and showing a good many signs of impatience. As they entered he walked quickly over to Mr. Ridgeway and said in a quick tone, “I tried to beat you in from the field, Mr. Ridgeway, but of course we busted a tire and had to stop, and then your man told me he thought you had gone to lunch, so I just stuck around.”
He looked curiously at Lawrence, and Mr. Ridgeway said,
“Come into my office, O’Brien. You may tell me anything you have to say before this young man. He is in my employ now.”
“Sort of a young kid for our work, isn’t he, Mr. Ridgeway?” asked O’Brien, smiling a wide, mirthful Irish smile at Lawrence.
“Pretty young,” admitted Mr. Ridgeway, “but I don’t think it will hurt him.”
“It is something he is sure to get over, give him time,” said the Irishman whimsically. Then as the heavy door closed, “Well, Mr. Ridgeway, I am the bearer of news. The watchman that has the beat from two until four was sick last night and I took his place, swearing him to silence about the change. He went to bed in my room, and I went out on the beat. At about three I sneaked close to the hangar and thought I could hear something making a sort of scratchin’ noise inside. I had a auger hole all fixed a good while ago, and I peeked.”