“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Nozink, nozink at all. I know you vat you are. Mr. Thomas Dorrell! And ze Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. I know all about him; jawohl! Zere are business for Schlagintwert: I do not mind ze captivities now: business are business.”
Oliphant looked inquiringly at Tom; but the moment was not propitious for explanations. Tom’s whole attention was engaged by the machinery. The airship alighted without mishap, and Tom as he stepped out of the car was greeted by Sir Mark Ingleton.
“I have a new conception of the music of the spheres,” he said. “Your approach was heralded by an immense humming, which, I take it, will discount the usefulness of the airship in time of war.”
“Zat vill be chance for Schlagintwert,” interposed Schwab: “to invent somezink vat stop ze row.”
“Precisely,” said Sir Mark, with a faint smile.
“How do you feel now, sir?” asked Tom.
“Greatly invigorated by the fresh air. I am glad of your coat. May I know to whom I am indebted for this surprising change in my fortunes?”
“My name’s Dorrell,” said Tom. “I happened to be rather lucky in getting my airship to go just when it could be made useful.”
“Viz Schlagintwert’s Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six,” added Schwab.