"Cheer-o."

Bates looked in on his master before retiring for the night.

"What time shall I call you, sir?" he said.

Theydon was in the pipe and book stage, having exchanged his dress
coat for a smoking jacket. He was reading a treatise on aeronautics,
and, like every novice, had already formulated a flying scheme which
would supersede all known inventions.

"Not later than 8," he said. "I must be out by 9. And, by the way, I
may as well tell you now. After lunch tomorrow I am going to
Brooklands. I return to Waterloo at 6:40. As I have to dine in the
West End at 7:30, and my train may be a few minutes behind time, I
want you to meet me with a suitcase at the hairdresser's place on the
main platform. I'll dress there and go straight to my friend's house.
It would be cutting things rather fine if I attempted to come here."

"I'll have everything ready, sir."

Bates was eminently reliable in such matters. He could be depended on
to the last stud.

The storm which had raged overnight must have cleared the skies for
the following day, because Theydon never enjoyed an outing more than
his trip to the famous motor track. His business there, however, lay
with aviation. A popular magazine had commissioned him to write an
article summing up the progress and practical aims of the airmen and