appreciated the magnitude and often the amazing nature of his
operations, he never believed in any of them.

Sammy was a thoroughly old-fashioned man. He had been born and
had grown up in the days when a steam-locomotive was good enough
and fast enough for any sensible traveller, and he greatly
preferred a good pair of horses to any vehicle which one steered
with a handle and regulated the speed thereof with a knob.
Roland Clew e might devise all the wonderful contrivances he
pleased, and he might do all sorts of astonishing things with
them, but Sammy would still be of the opinion that, even if the
machines did all that they were expected to do, the things they
did generally would not be worth the doing.

Still, the old man would not interfere by word or deed with any
of the plans or actions of his employer. On the contrary, he
would help him in every possible way--by fidelity, by suggestion,
by constant devotion and industry; but, in spite of all that, it
was one of the most firmly founded principles of his life that
Roland Clewe had no right to ask him to believe in the value of
the wild and amazing schemes he had on hand.

Before Roland Clewe slept that night he had visited all his
workshops, factories, and laboratories. His men had been busily
occupied during his absence under the directions of their various
special managers, and those in charge were of the opinion that
everything had progressed as favorably and as rapidly as should
have been expected; but Roland Clewe was not satisfied, even
though many of his inventions and machines were much nearer
completion than he had expected to find them. The work necessary