They passed a quiet night, and morning found them busily engaged in getting the dismantled seaplane together again. The injuries which it had suffered in making that descent, thanks to Frank’s skillful piloting, had not proven serious, and so by the time noon came they were ready to have it looked over by the aviators who might be sent to the hangar by the officials of the Government.
The glowing report handed in by M. Le Grande must have hurried matters up considerably, for a little later on several gentlemen made their appearance. They looked over the big seaplane carefully, and then had Frank and his chums sign several papers, one of which was a contract on royalty covering fifty machines which the Government might wish to construct within a year’s time.
Then Frank was given a certified check from the Government, and the transaction was considered closed.
The boys took away the small bundles they had already packed, and both hangar and seaplane became from that hour the property of the French Government.
Going to a hotel, Frank and his chums made all arrangements looking to crossing over to London on the next day. From there they expected to go to Liverpool, and take passage on the first steamer sailing for New York, regardless of the danger from German submarines lurking in the Irish Sea.
At the time they left the hangar the British soldiers were marching away, their place being taken by French officers, who were perhaps secret service men, or detectives. It looked as though every possible precaution were being taken to safeguard the wonderful seaplane of which so much was expected.
As they had planned, the three boys got away on the following day, and reached London in safety. No sign was seen of any hostile undersea vessel during the short trip across to English shores.
In London they found that they would have several days on their hands before they could sail from Liverpool, so they concluded to spend the interval watching the sights in the great British metropolis in war times, so different from the old life known to all travelers.
It was on the second morning after arriving there that Billy, who had gone down to get a paper, while his chums were finishing dressing, came bursting into their room again with his face white, and a printed sheet held in his trembling hand.
“What ails you?” demanded Pudge, in a shivery way. “I hope now Germany hasn’t declared war on the poor old United States over night?”