“My name’s Raymond Oliphant. I’m just home from Eton; long holidays, you know. That’s a clinking machine of yours. Never seen anything like it before. Did Mr. Greatorex invent it? I understood he was a chemical manufacturer.”
“No. I did.”
“Really! I say—d’you mind?—how old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“Just my age! And I’m rotting about at Eton while you——I say, you ought to make a good thing of this.”
“It’s only experimental at present. We haven’t tried a long flight.”
“Will you get the Government to take it up? I’ll put in a word with the pater, you know.”
“That’s altogether premature,” said Tom with a smile.
“Why, it seemed to me to go all right. Will it take two?”
“Two of our weight, I think. Would you like to try?”