Two boys were the occupants of the place. They had a lamp on the
table, upon which was outspread pictures and plans of airships. The
older of the two got up from his chair with a pleasant smiling face.

"Why, it's Mr. Grimshaw!" he exclaimed.

"That's who it is," joined in the other boy cheerily. "Say, you're
welcome, too. We were looking over some sketches of new machines,
and you can tell us lots about them, you know."

"Got to get back to my own quarters," declared Grimshaw. "Some
other time about those pictures. Boy brought a telegram to Mr.
King's hangar. It's for you, Dashaway."

"For me?" inquired the lad who had first addressed the visitor.

"Yes. Here it is. Mr. King's away, but if you need me for anything
let me know."

"I'm always needing you," replied Dave Dashaway. "I don't know what
we'd do without you."

The young aviator--for such he was in fact and reality--took the
proffered envelope. He tore open its end and read the enclosure
rapidly.

"Why," he said, "this is strange."

"Any answer? Need me?" asked Grimshaw, moving towards the door.