“You had better keep quiet,” said Mr Goodall, “as Miss Chain’s attack may be, after all, only the result of close air and overwork. A walk round the archery ground presently will do her all the good in the world, and, meanwhile, we can go down to the lake to try my air-ship.”
Lucy, although glad to see her friend’s recovery, looked upon the whole thing as a joke, and remarked as much, whereupon Mr Goodall, who overheard her, agreed, and laughingly said,—
“A phantom figure has possibly appeared.”
“Pardon me,” said Miss Chain; “it was no phantom I saw, Mr Goodall, but the figure of one who—”
“There now, don’t take on any more,” said Lucy, as she held the smelling salts nearer to Miss Chain’s face, and, giving her a significant nudge, silenced her.
“You will soon be all right,” said Mr Goodall, as he prepared to leave with Trigger. “You must take a holiday this afternoon and get some fresh air.”
When, however, the aeronaut and his assistant had left, poor Miss Chain cast a scared look at the screen and, turning to Lucy, said,—
“Holiday, indeed! This is the worst thing that has happened since I left Boulogne. I will tell you more of what I mean when we are in the open air. If I could only meet him face to face, Lucy, instead of only seeing his shadow!”
“No doubt you would let him have it hot,” replied Lucy, in her honest, blunt way; “but, as it is only a vision, you had better keep quiet until he does show up, and then if he opens his mouth and has anything to say worth hearing, I will chime in and help you.”
“Do you think, Lucy, that creature is prowling about without a fixed object? He must have heard that I am here. And wasn’t there another man with him just before I fainted?”