inging up a few particular friends, and inviting them out to see
you?"

"Please don't do anything of the kind. I'm very tired; I'm not
presentable; and I've no time to spare."

"Sure you wouldn't be after declining to answer a question or two--to
be worked up into an interview, you know?"

"Really, I've nothing to tell. You appear to know a good deal about me
already, and I'm sure your imagination can supply the rest."

"But there's a gap, lieutenant. We can't account for you between Port
Darwin and Honolulu."

"We're wasting time," said Smith despairingly. "Be so good as to order
up the petrol; then I'll give you a few headings."

McMurtrie was delighted. He gave the order to a firm in the city,
requesting that the petrol should be sent out by motor at once. Then
he took Smith and Cleave into the luncheon-room, which they had to
themselves, ordered a meal for Smith, and drinks for Cleave and
himself, and while Smith was eating, filled his note-book with
jottings, which he foretold would sell out two editions of his paper
like winking.

Rodier, meanwhile, was cleaning the engine.

To execute an order smartly is one of the first of business virtues.
Smith was satisfied that the virtue was appreciated in Toronto: the
petrol arrived, as McMurtrie assured him, in the shortest possible
time. Unluckily the Toronto men of business had their share of
humanity's common failing--if it is a failing--curiosity. McMurtrie,
with Smith at his elbow, had scrupulously refrained from explaining
what the petrol was wanted for; his assistant, Daniels, had been too
busy seeing the special edition to press to run about gossiping; and
Davis, the shorthand-writer, the third in the secret, had become so
mechanical that nothing stirred emotion within him; he wrote of
murders, assassinations, political convulsions, Rooseveltian exploits,
diplomatic indiscretions, everything but football matches, with the
same pencil and the same cold, inhuman precision. But it happened that
one of the compositors in the _Sphere_ printing office, who took a
lively interest in the affairs of his fellow mortals, had a bet with a
friend in the plumbing line about this very matter of the mysterious
flying men. No sooner had he set up his portion of the editor's note
than he begged leave of absence for half-an-hour from the overseer,
whipped off his apron, and rushed off to demand his winnings before
the loser had time to spend them in the _Blue Lion_ on the