"Bunk!" he exclaimed, with an irreverent laugh. "You fellows make a
voodoo mystery of flight because it pays you. There's nothing very
difficult about it, after all. One has only to keep cool."

I was going to reply with I know not what appeal to his reason, when
the clear, contralto voice of Miss Warren came suddenly from behind
me. She hastened to meet him, holding out both her hands.

"Jack, this is good of you!" she cried. "It's just your generous
way--you couldn't possibly have forgiven me more gracefully. To
think that you, of all people, should be the mysterious airman of
Westchester who has set every one talking and wondering! Why, it was
the pleasantest surprise in life to see you get down from that machine
after such a wonderful flight. And my father has been here to-day,
also. Two such converts in one afternoon is a coincidence that seems
too good to be true."

The young Monsieur Power was regarding her, I noticed, with a sort of
curious reserve.

"Maybe there's something in that," he said. "You mustn't get the idea
that I've altered my ground in the least, Ella."

"But you are flying yourself, now!"

"Certainly, but that doesn't mean that I approve of it as an amusement
for you."

"When did you begin?"

"Last month, when I bought the machine. Since then I've been
practicing around home."

The girl started from him in amazement.

"Last month! Why, don't you know you might have killed yourself,
cutting capers on a day like this?"

"Precisely what I have allowed myself to point out to monsieur," I
interposed. "He attempted feats full of danger even for the expert."

"Well, I guess that's all right," he responded shortly. "A man's life
wasn't given to him to nurse. Besides, flying is a great relief after
a week in the city."

I turned aside, then, to superintend the disposal of the aeroplanes in
their sheds, as it had become evident that a gale was in prospect. It
was some minutes later that I received a sudden intimation from Miss
Warren that she desired my presence outside her hangar.

"Mademoiselle wishes you to denounce the young American monsieur,"
added on his own account the mechanic who brought the message.

I found her confronting Monsieur Power, who was leaning in an attitude
characteristically immobile against the landing carriage of his
machine. The Comte de Chalons stood on one side, pulling at his
mustache and staring from one to the other. Monsieur Power chewed a
grass stem