"But this time I guess it's no phantom airship, but the real
thing. What time is that naval lieutenant coming to look over the Prescott
aeroplane, Peggy?"
"Some time to-day. He mentioned no particular hour."
"Do you think it possible that he is also going to take in that outfit
down the road?"
"It wouldn't surprise me. Maybe that's why they are just putting up the
sign. They evidently have refrained from doing so till now in order to
keep the nature of their business secret. If we hadn't come back from
Nevada sooner than we expected, we might not have known anything about it
till the navy had investigated and--approved."
Far down the road, beyond the big red building, came a whirl of dust. From
it presently emerged a big maroon car. Peggy scrutinized it through the
glasses.
"Mr. Harding is in that auto," she said, rather quietly for Peggy, as the
car came to a stop in front of the Mortlake Aeroplane Manufacturing
Company's plant.
Shortly before Peggy and Roy Prescott, their aunt, Miss Sallie Prescott,
with whom they made their home, and their chums, Jess and Jimsy Bancroft,
had returned from the Nevada alkali wastes, the red building which engaged
their attention that morning had caused a good deal of speculation in the
humdrum Long Island village of Sandy Beach. In the first place, coincident
with the completion of the building, a new element had been introduced
into the little community by the arrival of several keen-eyed,
close-mouthed men, who boarded at the local hotel and were understood to
be employees at the new building.
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