“I have only just seen it for the first time, Squire Dove,” replied the captain, “and have not heard of the occurrence previously.”
“Then yours will be a weighty testimony,” said the squire. “Can you recognise the persons here represented? Look at them, and give us your frank opinion.”
“There sits Mr Falcon!” exclaimed the captain, “with his hand on the side of a boat and his head bowed down—I’ll swear to him; and there is my friend, the aeronaut, lifting a lady out of the water, who, unmistakably bears the strongest resemblance to your daughter, squire.”
“Do let us retire below stairs,” cried the host. “The three invalids will excuse us, I know, for I am not sure that I can summon patience much longer to haggle with the doctor and his obstinacy.”
“I shall not give in by seeing a mere picture,” cried the doctor.
“Then you must be totally blind to ocular demonstration,” said the captain, moving off with the squire.
But when once they had reached the hall, Squire Dove felt that he had no desire or patience to listen to any further observations that the doctor might wish to offer, so he was politely bowed out, when the squire and the captain had a confidential chat until they were joined by the aeronaut and Edith Dove, together with Miss Chain, whose name had not been divulged as yet, for Edith was not well enough to enter upon the thrilling disclosures she had listened to that morning. She remembered, however, that a kindly-disposed policeman had told her at the Thicket Hotel that she was saved by a scientific gentleman, whose name was not mentioned.
But by way of a timely diversion, the squire proposed a stroll in the park, to see how the balloon was getting on, for, said he,—
“The more Doctor Peters raves against it, the greater liking I seem to have for it.”
Here, while the inspection of the balloon was going on, the gamekeeper drew their attention to a paragraph in a local newspaper, which contained a reference to the performance at Haywards Heath. It was as follows:—