“Not on any account,” said Tom aghast. “Even if I could do it, he of all men must not know.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Supposing I tried it and came a cropper, there’d be a double outcry against him; the first for not rescuing Sir Mark Ingleton, the second for allowing a crack-brained engineer to make a fool of himself and a corpse in the bargain. No, give it up; I don’t see any help for it.”
But when left to himself Tom could not keep his thoughts from Oliphant’s suggestion. The adventurous idea captivated his imagination; he began to consider it in earnest; he spent several hours of the afternoon in further experimenting with the aeroplane, and after dinner, when Mr. Greatorex and he went out into the grounds for their customary stroll and cigarettes, he broached the subject, in a casual way, and in much the same terms as Oliphant had used.
“Pity we couldn’t take a trip to Morocco and get Ingleton away,” he said cautiously.
“Eh! Pull Langside’s chestnuts out of the fire! He was a fool to send the man to Morocco. I wouldn’t if I could, and of course it’s impossible.”
“I’m not sure of that. And it isn’t a party matter, really.”
“Not party! It’s all party.”
“Sir Mark Ingleton is an agent of the Crown, sir, and the Crown is above party. I think in these matters we might sink our differences.”
“Yes, and sink our aeroplane, and drown ourselves, and serve us right.”