“You will remain here,” said the president, firmly. “Your story, sir, the truthful one; or we shall hold you criminally for false representation.”
Jerry was scared. Dave’s resolute face daunted him most of all. He trembled and shivered. By degrees he confessed. He was taken to the office of the club to furnish a signed statement. Then he was turned loose on the streets of London—exit ingloriously Jerry Dawson!
The invalid wanderings of Davidson had supplied his nurse, Elmer Brackett, with a pretty clear history of the plot to impose a duplicate Dictator on the public. While under the influence of a drug, Davidson had fallen from the steamer, and Jerry had thrown a grating after him. Perhaps the hope of securing all the international prize money for himself, had led Jerry to say nothing further about the accident.
There was a great celebration at a noted London hotel the week following. The most humble member of the crew of the Albatross was present.
Money and fame had come to them all. Dave Dashaway was the central figure with the public. Professor Leblance seemed to take most pride in the construction of the Albatross. Young, enterprising, popular, Dave, as the last man at the helm of the ill-fated Albatross, was the real hero of the event.
“Well, lads,” said the happy Professor Leblance across the table to Dave, Hiram and Elmer, “you have now reached so high a notch in aeronautic science that you can go no further.”
“Mistake,” piped up the irrepressible Hiram.
“Oh, yes, a grave mistake, Professor,” insisted young Brackett.
Dave Dashaway only smiled.