“In other words,” explained Major Honeywell, “if the Ocean Flyer, carrying your matrices, reaches any European point within eighteen hours, the boys get twenty-five thousand dollars. If they reach London successfully they are to be paid ten thousand dollars more or thirty-five thousand dollars. If they make the trip back in the same time, carrying your three people, they get another twenty-five thousand dollars or sixty thousand dollars altogether.”
“That is the idea.”
“And if they fail to get back on time they get only five thousand dollars for the return trip.”
“I’ll do better than that,” added the editor. “I have with me our cashier’s check for $10,000 payable to the Airship Boys. The above terms are agreeable to me. If they are satisfactory to the young men, I’ll pay over the check now, unconditionally. It will have been earned if a start is made in good faith.”
Ned at once waved the check aside.
“We’ll sign the contract and we’ll start not only in good faith but in good hope. But we’ll call for our money on the morning of June 23, and,” he added, his eyes twinkling, “when you may as well have a check for sixty thousand dollars ready. We’ll earn it.”
While Major Honeywell’s secretary prepared a duplicate copy of the memorandum contract Alan raised another point:
“Has any one figured where and how we are to deliver your reporters, their copy, the photographer and his pictures? Remember, it will be about two o’clock in the morning.”
“Can’t you drop the manuscript and the pictures somewhere out in the bay near the Herald boat if it shows prearranged signals?” asked the editor.
“Why not show the same signals on the Herald building?” asked Bob. “Our customary green diamond?”