look of intense interest, yet those eyes, rather narrowly set, struck me as queer-looking and uncanny—eyes such as I had never seen before.
Suddenly I wondered if their gaze upon me was some evil omen.
Next second I laughed within myself at such an absurd thought. It was the first time in all my life that such an idea had ever crossed my mind, therefore I at once dismissed it. Such thought was most foolish and utterly ridiculous.
Yet, again, I glanced at him, unable to withdraw my gaze entirely. Those dark, beady eyes of his, set slightly askew, were certainly most uncanny. Their gaze seemed cold and relentless, and yet at the same time exulting.
Sight of them sent through me a strange creepy feeling, but, with resolution, I turned away, busying myself in my preparations for starting.
Perhaps it was knowledge that strangers had been prying into our experimental plant out at Gunnersbury that had somewhat upset me, yet, after all, though they had cruelly assaulted poor old Theed, no very great success had been theirs.
Who were they? That was the vital question.
Just as I was on the point of starting I saw Lionel Eastwell coming from the hangar, walking behind his own machine, which was being pushed out by his man Barnes and two others.
I waved to him from my seat, and he waved a merry greeting back to me.
Then, all being ready, I motioned to Theed to let her go, and with a deafening rush I shot forward, leaving behind a pungent blue trail from the big exhaust.
