Stephen and Orissa both sprang to their feet, startled by the interruption. A tall man, having a stoop to his shoulders, had parted the entrance curtains and stood looking at them. He wore blue goggles¹, an automobile² cap and duster, and heavy shoes; but Orissa recognized him at once.

“Mr. Cumberford!” she exclaimed.

“Dear me!” said the man; “it’s the young lady from Burthon’s office—and my friend.” He laughed, lightly, as if amused by the recollection; then added: “I’ve run out of gasoline and my car is stranded⁴ a quarter of a mile off. Think you could furnish me enough of the elusive⁵ fluid to run me into town?”

Steve walked silently to his gasoline tank. He was excessively annoyed to have a stranger spy upon his workshop and resolved to get rid of the man in short order. Orissa also was silent, fearing Mr. Cumberford might linger if she entered into conversation with him. The spot was so retired⁶ that until now no one but themselves had 79ever entered the hangar, and the secret had been well kept.

“Here’s a two-gallon can,” said Stephen, surlily. “Will that do you?”

Mr. Cumberford nodded, set the can upon the ground and walked over to the bench, where he calmly seated himself beside the girl.

“What are you up to, here?” he asked.

“Our own especial business,” retorted Steve. “You will pardon me, sir, if I ask you to take your gasoline and go. This is private property.”

“I see,” said Cumberford. “I’m intruding⁷. Never mind that. Let’s talk a bit; I’m in no hurry.”

“We are very much occupied, sir,” urged Orissa, earnestly.

“No doubt,” said the man. “I overheard a remark as I entered. You were wondering whether to accept Burthon’s offer and give him a half interest. Eh? That interests me; I’m Burthon’s brother-in-law.”

He glanced around him, then calmly took a cigarette from his pocket and offered one to Steve.

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