will be so calculated as to give us time to
secrete ourselves before Prescott and the other meet. Are you willing to
let your estimate of young Prescott stand or fall by this meeting?"

"I am, yes," replied Lieut. Bradbury, breathing heavily. "The young
scoundrel, if he is caught red-handed, I will see if there is not some law
that will operate to take care of his case."

Mortlake could hardly conceal a smile. His plan to ruin Roy was working to
perfection. In his imagination he saw the Prescott aeroplane eliminated as
a naval possibility, and the field clear for the selection of the Mortlake
machine. Mentally he was already adding up the millions of profit that
would accrue to him.

Lieut. Bradbury left that meeting heavy of heart. Mortlake's story had
been so circumstantial, so full of detail, that it hardly left room for
doubt. And then, too, he had offered to produce positive proof, to allow
the officer to witness the actual transaction.

"Good heavens, isn't there any good in the world?" thought the officer, as
the hack in which he had driven out to the Mortlake plant drove him back
to the village. Mortlake had agreed to call for him at the little hotel at
eight o'clock. The hours till then seemed to have leaden feet to the
anxious young officer.

It was shortly before this that Roy, returning from an errand in town in
the Prescott automobile, was halted at the roadside by a figure which
stepped from the hedge-row, and, holding up a cautioning finger, uttered a
sharp:

"Hist!"

Roy, turning, saw a man, seemingly a workingman, from his overalls, at the
side of the machine.

"What is it? What do you want?" demanded Roy.

"I have a message for you," said the man, speaking in a slightly foreign
accent; "you are in great danger. Your enemies plot it."

"My enemies!" exclaimed Roy.

"Yes, your enemies at the Mortlake factory."

"Let's see," said Roy thoughtfully, "you're one of the workmen at the
Mortlake plant, aren't you?"

"I _was_ once," said the man, with a vindictive inflection, "but I am so
no longer. Mortlake discharged me."

"Discharged you, eh? Well, what's that got to do with me?"

Roy looked curiously at the man.

"Just this much. I know the meanness that Mortlake plans to do to you. You
have bad and wicked enemies at our place."

"Humph! I guess there may be some truth in that," said Roy with a rather
grim inflection. "Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"Just this: I am an ho