“Do you expect any of the military aeronauts here, sir?”
“Oh, no. I have not invited anyone. What I undertake will be to show what has been left untouched by war-balloonists, although I admit that some of our military aeronauts are very clever and are likely to figure creditably in actual warfare. But of late, almost anybody is supposed to be qualified for public ballooning, so long as he is what is termed a break-neck fellow, and this qualification, without other equally important ones, has brought about such a long list of fatalities.”
“Everybody ought to know, sir, that successful aeronauts are born, not made.”
“Yes, quite so; but here comes Warner. I must have a few words with him in private, to ascertain if he has any tidings of the spy, or of this great detective, who has made our acquaintance without our knowing who he was.”
“Do you mean Hawksworth, sir?”
“Yes, that’s the very man, and Warner tells me he is an expert in his line; but, if I am not very much deceived, Warner would accomplish quite as much if he were promoted, and without so much flourish of trumpets.”
The next day, the gorgeous balloon was brought out betimes, though the ascent was not to take place until the afternoon, but Mr Goodall wished to have everything ready, so that the inflation could begin before the dinner hour. The supply of gas was known to be abundant, and a special main of large dimensions was found beneath a slight slope, where a roped circle was staked off to keep the ordinary visitors at a suitable distance. A telegram had been despatched to Mr Magnus Ohren, C.E., at the Lower Sydenham Gas Works, and to Mr C. Gandon, the engineer, to say that their inspector would be able to turn on at 11.30 a.m. to the minute, and by that time the first stream of gas was seen to raise the flat silk, so that in less than half an hour a dome of resplendent alternate segments of amber and crimson gores elicited the admiration of many spectators. In fact, there were already present, as regular daily visitors to the Palace, rather more than the amateur aeronaut cared about seeing, as he knew that they would increase in numbers as the day went on, for he dreaded anything approaching to a Bank Holiday crowd.
Whilst the filling of the giant machine was going on, Mr Falcon and his servant, Croft, stealthily entered the turnstile of the North Tower, to quietly discuss their past undertakings and future plans, well knowing that at such an early hour they would, in all probability, be alone on the balcony, having at the same time a good view of all that was going on. It was in this secluded spot that they drifted into a retrospect of their previous doings, but naturally their remarks were made in such a strain that no third person could make head or tail of what they were alluding to, although their ambiguity and references might have attracted the attention of Simon Warner, or of Hawksworth, had either of them been within earshot of their observations. However, as it happened, they were undisturbed for more than twenty minutes and chatted freely together, as the new lift at that time had not been attached to the tower.