I caught the Star just in time for the last edition, and some of the other papers that had later editions also had the story.  Of course all the morning papers had it.

Norton spent the night in the Mineola Hospital.  He didn’t really need to stay, but the doctor said it would be best in case some internal injury had been overlooked.  Meanwhile Kennedy took charge of the hangar where the injured machine was.  The men had been in a sort of panic; Humphrey could not be found, and the only reason, I think, why the two mechanicians stayed was because something was due them on their pay.

Kennedy wrote them out personal checks for their respective amounts, but dated them two days ahead to insure their staying.  He threw off all disguise now and with authority from Norton directed the repairing of the machine.  Fortunately it was in pretty good condition.  The broken part was the skids, not the essential parts of the machine.  As for the gyroscope, there were plenty of them and another dynamo, and it was a very simple thing to replace the old one that had been destroyed.

Sinclair worked with a will, far past his regular hours.  Jaurette also worked, though one could hardly say with a will.  In fact, most of the work was done by Sinclair and Kennedy, with Jaurette sullenly grumbling, mostly in French under his breath.  I did not like the fellow and was suspicious of him.  I thought I noticed that Kennedy did not allow him to do much of the work, either, though that may have been for the reason that Kennedy never asked anyone to help him who seemed unwilling.

“There,” exclaimed Craig about ten o’clock.  “If we want to get back to the city in any kind of time to-night we had better quit.  Sinclair, I think you can finish repairing these skids in the morning.”

We locked up the hangar and hurried across to the station.  It was late when we arrived in New York, but Kennedy insisted on posting off up to his laboratory, leaving me to run down to the Star office to make sure that our story was all right for the morning papers.

I did not see him until morning, when a large touring-car drove up.  Kennedy routed me out of bed.  In the tonneau of the car was a huge package carefully wrapped up.

“Something I worked on for a couple of hours last night,” explained Craig, patting it.  “If this doesn’t solve the problem then I’ll give it up.”

I was burning with curiosity, but somehow, by a perverse association of ideas, I merely reproached Kennedy for not taking enough rest.

“Oh,” he smiled.  “If I hadn’t been working last night, Walter, I couldn’t have rested at all for thinking about it.”

When we arrived at the field Norton was already there with his head bandaged.  I thought him a little pale, but otherwise all right.  Jaurette was sulking, but Sinclair had finished the repairs and was busily engaged in going over every bolt and wire.  Humphreys had sent word that he had another offer and had not shown up.