CHAPTER XX
THE STOWAWAY
The young aviator took a long, earnest stare at the mysterious person who had just stated that he was a stowaway. In a flash Dave seemed to get hold of one end of a long chain of circumstances and mysteries.
“A stowaway?” repeated Professor Leblance, incredulously. “You mean aboard the Albatross?”
“Yes, sir.”
“From the time when she first started?”
“And before.”
“You amaze me!”
“I am amazed at myself,” came the words, in rather a depressed way. The speaker dropped his head, and both of his interlocutors looked troubled and more puzzled than ever. “I’ll tell you, gentlemen, I’d rather not say much till I am sure your airship is out of the country. You know you promised I should stay aboard if I wanted to,” he added to Mr. King.
“I surely did,” assented the airman, heartily.
Dave had been studying the profile of the stowaway. He had noticed that his ebony hue was due entirely to soot or greased lampblack smeared over face and hands. Further, the keen glance of the young aviator had scanned closely the clothing, even down to the necktie of the stranger, and then—he was a stranger no longer to Dave.