"If I have time. Good-bye, old man; many thanks."
They shook hands, and Smith was just about to jump into his seat when there came the sound of galloping horses, and the incessant clanging of a bell. Smith laughed.
"Your blaze has roused the Epsom Fire Brigade," he said with a chuckle.
"Well, I thought I'd better make a big one to make sure of you," replied Barracombe.
Smith waited with his hand on the lever until the fire-engine had dashed up.
"What the blazes!" cried the captain, as he leapt from his seat, looking from the motor-car to the aeroplane with mingled amazement and indignation.
"Good-bye, Billy," cried Smith; "I'll leave you to explain."
The propeller whirled round, the machine flew forwards, and in a few seconds was soaring with its booming hum into the air. Smith glanced down and saw the fireman facing Barracombe, his annoyance being evidently greater than his curiosity. He would have smiled if he could have heard Barracombe's explanation.
"W-w-why yes," he said, affecting a distressing stutter; "this kind of b-b-bonfire is a hobby of m-mine; it's about my only r-r-recreation. M-m-my name? Certainly. My name's William bub-bub-Barracombe, and you'll find me in, any day between t-ten and f-five, at 532 mum-mum-Mincing Lane."