The two mounted the car, and spent an hour in wheeling about the enclosure. Tom ventured to set the motors at a higher speed than he had before tried, and put the aeroplane through a score of evolutions, which demonstrated that he had it perfectly under control. Oliphant in his enthusiasm returned again to the matter of the captured envoy.
“I say, is it quite out of the question, d’you think?”
“Afraid so. Perhaps in a few months——”
“That’s no good,” interrupted his companion. “The occasion will be passed. Ingleton will be either released or dead, and, in any case, there’ll be such a terrific agitation against the pater that he’ll be forced to resign. He wouldn’t mind personally; but there’s the Country, you see. Can’t you risk it?”
“I might if only myself were concerned; but there’s Mr. Greatorex to reckon with. The whole thing’s only experimental. I’m sure he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Politics is a rotten game! Wish we were back in the times before Whigs and Tories were invented.”
“And unpopular ministers lost their heads!—Now I’m going to let her down. See how near she falls to the perpendicular.”
He dropped a hammer out of the car, stopped the horizontal motion and started the vertical, adjusted the planes, and descended gently to the ground.
“That’s better,” he cried, when he had measured the distance between the aeroplane and the hammer; “it’s only a dozen yards. We’re getting on. Really, I wish I could try your suggestion.”
“Shall I mention it to the pater?” said Oliphant eagerly.