“Hale?” I repeated, looking at him in surprise. “I know nobody of that name!”
“Well—here’s his card,” said the engineer. “He called yesterday afternoon, and told me that you’d sent him, and that he had your authority to look at your machine.”
I took the rather soiled card, and saw upon it the name: “Harold Hale—National Physical Laboratory.”
I held it in my hand in surprise.
“A Government official!” I exclaimed in wonder. “I gave no such permission!” I declared. “As I have repeatedly said, these alterations you are making are strictly in secret.”
“That’s what I told him, sir.”
“You didn’t let him see the work, I hope?” I asked anxiously.
“Not very likely, sir,” was the man’s reply. “I asked him for a written authorisation, but he said he’d left it in his office. There was a good deal of swank about him, I thought. He seemed to have a swelled head.”
“Well—what happened?” I inquired.
“Oh! He became very officious-like—said he was a Government inspector of aircraft, and demanded to see what alterations you were making in your machine. My reply was to tell him that when he brought a letter from you, I’d show him—and not before.”