"It'll be an unofficial competition, then," declared Fosterdyke. "The honour of achieving the flight will be enough. The money prize can go hang. Come along, let's make tracks."
"I vote we look up the Commissioner at his private quarters," suggested Bramsdean. "After all, the 'Golden Hind' won't have refilled her petrol tanks yet."
"'Spose not," growled Fosterdyke. "Someone's illegible signature's required for the indents, I presume. Right-o, Bramsdean, let's rout out this indispensable."
Somewhat to Peter's surprise the official was discovered with little difficulty. He had just finished his lunch, and as the meal had been a satisfying one, he was in high good humour.
"So Count von Sinzig has five hours' start, eh?" remarked the worthy representative of the International Air Board. "That's nothing. You'll make that up easily. The documents? Ah--yes--quite so. Unfortunately, the seals are in my office. I'll be along there very shortly."
"Isn't your signature enough?" asked the baronet.
The great one hesitated. On the one hand, he wanted to impress his callers by admitting that his signature was "absolutely it." On the other, years of punctilious devotion to the ethics of red tape urged him to deprecate such a cutting of the Gordian knot.
"No, Sir Reginald," he replied. "Both are necessary. One is not conclusively in order without the other. I'll be at the office by three."
It was now a quarter-past two. Fosterdyke felt strongly inclined to enquire pointedly why three-quarters of an hour would be taken up by the Commissioner in getting from his quarters to his office.
By ten minutes past three the various documents were sealed and signed. As the competitors were on the point of taking their departure the Commissioner spoke again.