He examined her expressive face with interest.
“Please tell me all about it,” said he.
So Orissa gave him the history of the aircraft, from its conception to the final triumph and wreckage and its conquest by the bull. Incidentally she told how they had mortgaged their home and the orange crop to get the needed money, and finally explained the condition they were now in—success within their grasp, but no means of taking advantage of it.
Mr. Burthon was very attentive throughout, his eyes fixed upon Orissa’s lovely face and watching its shades of anxiety and exaltation as the story progressed. While she enthusiastically described Steve’s aircraft, her eyes sparkling and a soft flush mantling her cheeks, the man scarcely heard what she said, so intent was he in admiring her. He did not permit his fair secretary to notice his mood, however, and the girl was too earnestly engaged to heed her employer’s intent gaze. At the conclusion of her story she asked:
“Tell me, sir, is there any way in which we can raise the money required?”
Mr. Burthon roused himself and the hard business expression settled upon his features again.
“I think so,” he returned, slowly. “What your brother needs is a backer—what is called an ‘angel,’ you know—who will furnish the necessary funds for the perfection of the invention and to place it upon the market and properly exhibit it.”
“Would anyone do that?” she inquired.
“For a consideration, yes. Such a party would demand an interest in the invention, and a share of the profits.”
“How much, sir?”