As he finished his eyes appeared to notice for the first time a sign on the wall:
NO SMOKING HERE.
He at once threw the cigar he was smoking out of the shed and again gave his attention to the airship and its contents. He also expressed a desire to re-enter the cabin and had just done so with Phil—Frank being busy with the engine—when there was a rush and Lord Pelton disappeared through the doors.
The act was unnoticed by Frank, who was bending over the engine; but Phil, high in the car, gasped and turned cold. From his position he could see the cause of Lord Pelton’s sudden flight. On the edge of the wide runway and about five feet from the wide open doors Phil had left an open can of gasoline from which Frank had just taken fluid for priming. At this point the runway was only about a foot from the ground. Mr. Mackworth’s burning cigar had fallen on the runway just here and then dropped off the edge into a little pile of scraps and shavings.
Even as Phil saw thin smoke ascending above the platform and through it made out the first tiny tongue of red flame, the flying form of the young Englishman blotted all from view. Before Phil could sound an alarm Lord Pelton had the can in both arms, its dusty and greasy exterior smearing his immaculate coat and gloves and the slopping oil splashing over his face and shirt.
