Mr. Cumberford said frankly¹ to Steve and Orissa:

“Don’t expect too much of Sybil, or you’ll be disappointed. She’s peculiar², and the things that interest her are often those the world cares nothing for. Anything odd or unusual is sure to strike her fancy; that’s why she’s so enraptured³ with the aircraft.”

The word enraptured did not seem, to Steve, to describe Sybil’s attitude at all; but Orissa, watching the girl’s face, decided⁴ it was especially appropriate. They left her standing⁵ before the machine and went on with their work, while Mr. Cumberford ignored his daughter and smoked cigarettes while he watched, as usual, every movement of the young mechanic.

“Saw Burthon this morning,” he remarked, presently.

“Did he say anything?” asked Steve.

“No. Just smiled. That shows he’s up to something. Wonder what it is.”

114Steve shook his head.

“I don’t see how that man can possibly injure me,” he said, musingly⁶. “I’ve gone straight ahead, in an honest fashion, and minded my own business. As for the machine, that’s honest, too, and all my improvements are patented.”

“They’re what?”

“Patented, sir; registered in the patent office at Washington.”

“Oho!”

Steve looked at him, surprised.

“Well, sir?”

“You’re an irresponsible idiot, Stephen Kane.”

“Because I patented my inventions?”

“Yes, sir; for placing full descriptions and drawings of them before the public until you’ve startled the aviation world and are ready to advertise what you’ve done.”

Steve stared, a perception of Cumberford’s meaning gradually coming to him.

“Why, as for that,” he said a little uneasily, “no one ever takes the trouble to read up new patents, there are so many of them. And, after all, it’s a protection.”

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