“About 20,000 feet, squire—that is, on demand, but much more to order.”
“We are surprised to hear this, squire,” said the aeronaut; “at that rate, my balloon could be either refilled here, or fed and retained if need be.”
“Yes, it could. I hope the pilot has been well seen after, Bennet?”
“Oh yes, squire, I have attended to him myself; but we have been a bit annoyed by the doctor, who has been taking on worse than ever.”
“What about? What has he to do with my visitors, who have enlightened me on points of great importance, and who will always meet with a warm reception here?”
“Doctor Peters has been predicting, squire, that the balloon is like a bird of ill omen, and that it means something unpleasant happening.”
“Perhaps he meant it portends that something unpleasant has been found out. However, I must clip the doctor’s wings, and as to ‘birds of ill omen,’ I don’t know whom he can be thinking about. By-the-bye, have you seen anything of Mr Falcon?”
“Not to-day, squire.”
“When was his servant, Croft, last here?”
“Oh, not since Mr Falcon was injured in the back by the Essex poachers, squire.”