Evelyn shook hands.
"I will allow myself to grieve when Varrhus has been disposed of," she said quietly. "Until then I dare not let myself think."
Davis released her hand and turned to Teddy.
"Varrhus—or the chap in the black flyer, anyway—killed my best friend, Curtiss. He was driving the little Nieuport that attacked Varrhus the day you blew up the first bomb. I was the first man to reach the spot where Curtiss had crashed, and I swore I'd get Varrhus for that."
"I remember," said Teddy. "Frozen."
Davis nodded, his face grave.
"I have what is probably the fastest little machine in the United States, at the fort. A two-seater, with twin Liberty Motors that shoot her up to a hundred and fifty miles an hour without any trouble at all. I think I can get Varrhus with it. I came to you to learn what you think about Varrhus' weapons. It's only the part of wisdom to learn all you can about your opponent, you know."
Teddy found the young man impressing him very favorably.
"I haven't given the matter much thought," he confessed, "but you remember Varrhus' tactics?"
"He dropped like a tumbler pigeon," said Davis, "and Curtiss overshot him. There wasn't a sign of firing except from Curtiss. He simply overran the place where Varrhus had been three or four seconds before and then dropped. He was frozen stiff when I found him."