The man on the door was by this time approaching a rage. Also the other man by this time had gained a position from which he could see almost the entire interior of the hangar. It was as he suspected, although he gave no evidence of even understanding what was going on within. They were preparing for the flight!
"Look here," said the irate look-out testily, rejecting the proffered pouch, "I like my own tobacco best, same as I like my own company best."
"H'm," exclaimed the Secret Service man, vacantly, as though trying to interpret the significance of this subtle sarcasm. "Wall," he opined finally, "thar's all sorts o' tobacco, same's thar's all sorts o' comp'ny, an' thar's no accountin' fer the queer tastes some people has."
He strolled on, leaving the look-out fuming. In ten minutes he was back giving his colleague a good laugh at what had taken place. However, they had little time for the amusing side of their experiences, for theirs was a serious work—as serious in its way as was that of our four friends in another, and the efforts of all were directed toward getting those secret and highly important documents to the Peace Conference without molestation and before there was an open rupture there.
And all this while the crew entrusted with this important work was cutting across the Atlantic, putting mile after mile between the 600-horsepower dual-motor hydroplane and the shores of America.
A hasty conference brought the two Secret Service men to the conclusion that no time should be wasted in reporting to headquarters just what the situation was. So at different times, and taking different routes, they strolled toward the center of town, where one of them entered the telegraph office and sent off, to a certain Henry Billings, on "F" Street, Washington, D. C., this apparently commonplace message: "Lumber all shipped; expect to leave here tonight."
To Billings, otherwise the head of the Secret Service, who now was in constant touch with members of the Cabinet, it carried a more pertinent import, for it told him that the plane which they already had learned might be used to pursue the Transatlantic messengers had been made completely ready and probably would put out that evening
The Cabinet was hastily called together in special meeting, and the summons also brought General Bronson, head of the air service. But after all, what was there to be said? The die had been cast, so to speak, and the lads now were far out over the ocean, with no alternative but to continue the race at top speed to prevent a meeting with the enemy plane, which doubtless would attack with any weapon and under any circumstance advantageous to itself.
"There is nothing to do but to try at once to get in touch with them by wireless," announced General Bronson. "They are not fools, and although nothing was said to them on this phase of the subject, they probably realized that they were not given a machine gun to mount, with plenty of rounds of ammunition, for nothing."