A moment later Billie heard a flying-machine approaching. Shortly it
came near enough for her to see that it was greatly like a yacht,
painted white all over, and possessing exceptionally tall masts. The
canvas was already unfurled and the vessel descending under the
control of some unusually powerful wings.

"Mr. Powart's official boat," Mona explained to Fort.

The craft landed softly on the edge of the lawn, some distance away.
The three on the terrace did not stir from their places as Powart,
accompanied by eight men in uniform, stepped swiftly down a short
ladder and strode rapidly to the house. The eight guards, each of
whom carried a brown leather box, like a motion-picture camera, took
up unobtrusive positions near at hand. These cases, however, were
not used for taking photographs; Billie thought them more like some
kind of condensed rapid-fire guns.

Before Powart got within ear-shot, Mona leaned toward Fort. "This is
my fiance," she said with an evident effort; and when she
straightened up her hands were trembling.

Fort took it astonishingly well. He concealed any hint of his
feelings as the chairman was introduced. Powart gave him a single
penetrating glance, then advanced in his sure, self-confident way,
and took both the girl's hands in his own. She remained in her seat.

"I am very glad to see you looking so well. Do you feel fully
recovered, Mona?"