"Because I wanted to keep my pontoon idea secret till I'd tried it out. It isn't exactly for general publication—yet."
Herc seemed to catch a deeper meaning in the words.
"You're thinking of that chap who's been snooping around here for the last week posing as a newspaper photographer?" he asked quickly.
"Yes. I'm convinced, somehow, that he is nothing of the sort. For one thing, he's far too curious about the mechanical details of the aeroplanes, and the results of the experiments so far as we've conducted them. Another thing is, that he seems unusually well supplied with money, and he also appears to be a man of far greater ability than his supposed job would indicate."
"Gee whillakers!" gasped Herc. "You're not after thinking he's a foreign spy?"
"That's just what I am," rejoined Ned firmly.
"He won't get much information here."
"Not if he depended on most of us for it. But there's Chance and Merritt. It's a mean thing to say, Herc, but I wouldn't trust those fellows any farther than I could see them, and not so far as that."
"We-el!" whistled Herc, with huge assumed surprise, "you don't say so? I was always under the delusion that they were honest, above-board sports, who wouldn't do a mean thing for all the wealth on Wall Street."