"I knew you would," continued their host. "In any case you will be here a week at least, for the snow lies about a long time, and the roads will be simply impassable for motor traffic during the thaw. That is, if you decide to continue your journey by motor. There is always a means of getting to Church Stretton on foot and taking train from there. On the other hand, if you decide to remain, my house is at your disposal."
"You are awfully kind," said Athol.
"With an ulterior motive," added Desmond Blake. "You are the very fellows I was looking for. I want to 'rope you in.' That's speaking bluntly. I believe in saying what I mean without beating about the bush."
"You mentioned that you had trouble with the German agents," remarked Dick.
"I have reason to believe so," replied Blake. "I have no conclusive proofs. I can only infer that spies are at the bottom of the trouble. On three occasions my grounds were broken into. My gatekeeper, Harvey, a tough old chap in spite of his years, was able to thwart two attempts to break into my workshop. On the third instance I scared the intruder pretty badly by means of a shock with a high tension wire. At the same time the automatic shutter of a camera was released in the hope of getting the likeness of the gentleman in question. Unfortunately the magnesium flashlight failed to explode at the same moment as the exposure of the lens. What I ought to have done was to leave the lens uncovered. I shall know better next time."
"Wouldn't the plate become fogged?" asked Dick, who was a successful amateur photographer.
"Oh no; you must remember the attempt was made at night. The sudden flash of the magnesium acts much the same as the brief exposure of the plate in daylight."
The meal proceeded slowly, while conversation flowed briskly. Desmond Blake knew the value of a good lunch as an incentive to amiability, and had played his cards well. "Now for the hangar," he said, at the end of the meal. "You smoke? No, good; I'm glad to hear it. It's an expensive habit, although I have a great weakness in that direction. In fact, I sometimes find myself on the point of smoking a pipe in the petrol store."
"We've seen fellows in the Royal Flying Corps drop the glowing ends of their cigarettes in petrol just for sheer mischief," said Dick. "Nothing happened."
"But it might have," rejoined their host. "'Fraid it doesn't speak for the good quality of the petrol or the common sense of the men who fool about with it. It isn't the liquid petrol that is dangerous, but the vapour it gives off. I've been experimenting in that direction, trying to get a spirit that is non-inflammable under normal atmospheric pressure and only exploded when under compression."