“Provided the disguise doesn’t make you too conspicuous—yes,” the adjutant assented. “That was a point, however, that I intended leaving largely to your own judgment. As a suggestion, though, it might be well, if you could manage it, to play the part of a foreigner seeking a job at the foundry—say, a Russian or a Pole.”
“I think I can manage it,” Cato returned. “Why, captain, taking off that Russky dialect is my strong specialty. I used to work at a rolling mill at Portsmouth, Ohio, where there was a whole bunch of them.” And, to illustrate his powers, he dropped into an imitation which left no doubt in Grail’s mind as to his ability to make good.
Accordingly, after a little further discussion, the sergeant started off on his mission, while Grail, feeling as though a load had been removed from his shoulders, hurried out to give orders for the inflation of the dirigible balloon which formed a part of the equipment of the post. He was the most enthusiastic aviator among the officers, and was regularly permitted to take out the dirigible without going through the form of making official application.
No one asked him the purpose or object he had in view. Silently, and with eyes averted, the men obeyed his orders; and the officers all kept distinctly aloof, although usually when there was a flight to be undertaken a crowd was very quick to gather.
“Never mind,” Grail said to himself. “By to-morrow, if all goes well, the tide will have turned, and they’ll be only too anxious to hear what I have to say.”
The preparations completed, he climbed into the light framework under the big, swaying bag, and was just about to give the order “Let go!” when, casting a final glance about, he chanced to observe that two of the cords which held up the car were badly frayed. Had a flight been attempted with them in that condition there could hardly have failed to be a serious accident.
Stopping his engine, Grail sprang to the ground, and faced the little squad of men who had been helping him make ready.
“This machine was in perfect condition when it was brought out of the hangar,” he remarked to them grimly, as he pointed to the almost severed ropes. “Consequently one of you must be responsible for this damage.”
Then, as they hesitated, glancing uncertainly at one another, he took a quick step forward, and caught up a sharp fragment of broken glass which one of them—a new recruit by the name of Simmons—had attempted to drop behind him.
“Ah!” he cried triumphantly. “I thought I would be able to smoke out the culprit. Now we will have the corporal of the guard.”