13 The Saint Intervenes (Boodle)

"That was the jolly old idea," he said. "In fact, if the other partners felt like selling out, I might take over the whole blinkin' show. I've got a good deal of time on my hands, and I like pottering about with aeroplanes and what not. A chap's got to do something to keep out of mischief, what? Besides, it doesn't look as if you were doing a lot of business here, and I might be able to wake the jolly old place up a bit. Sort of aerial roadhouse, if you know what I mean. Dinners— drinks—dancing—pretty girls. . . . What?"

"I didn't say anything," said Mr. Newdick.

"All right. What about it, old bean?"

Mr. Newdick scratched his chin. The notion of manna had passed into his cosmogony. It fell from Heaven. It was real. Miracles happened. The world was a brighter, rosier place.

"One of your remarks, of course," he said, "is somewhat uninformed. As a matter of fact, we are doing quite a lot of business. We have orders, negotiations, tenders, con­tracts. ..." The eloquent movement of one hand, temporarily released from massaging his chin, indicated a whole field of industry of which the uninitiated were in ignorance. "How­ever," he said, "if your proposition were attractive enough, it would be worth hearing."

Simon nodded.

"Well, old bean, who do I put it to?"

"You may put it to me, if you like," said Mr. Newdick. "I am Oscar Newdick."

"I see. But what about the other partners, Oscar, old sprout?"

Mr. Newdick waved his hand.

"They are largely figureheads," he explained. "A few friends, with very small interests—just enough to meet the technical requirements of a limited company. The concern really belongs to me."

Simon beamed.

"Splendid!" he said. "Jolly good! Well, well, well, dear old Newdick, what d'you think it's worth ?"

"There is a nominal share value of twenty-five thousands pounds," said Mr. Newdick seriously. "But, of course, they are worth far more than that. Far more. ... I very much doubt," he said, "whether fifty thousand would be an ade­quate price. My patents alone are worth more than fifty thousand pounds. Sixty thousands pounds would scarcely tempt me. Seventy thousand would be a poor price. Eighty thousand——"

"Is quite a lot of money," said the Saint, interrupting Mr. Newdick's private auction.

Mr. Newdick nodded.

"But you haven't seen the place yet—or the machine we turn out. You ought to have a look round, even if we can't do business."

Mr. Newdick suffered a twinge of horror at the thought even while he uttered it.

He led the Saint out of his "office" to the junk shed. No one who had witnessed his sad survey of that collection of lumber a few minutes before would have believed that it was the same man who now gazed on it with such enthusiasm and affection.

"This," said Mr. Newdick, "is our workshop. Here you can see the parts of our machines in course of construction and assembly. Those lengths of wood are our special lon­gerons. Over there are stay and braces. ..."

"By Jove!" said the Saint in awe. "I'd no idea helicopters went in for all those things. They must be quite dressed up when you've finished with them, what? By the way, talking of longerons, a girl friend of mine has the neatest pattern of step-ins ..."

Mr. Newdick listened patiently.

Presently they passed on to the other shed. Mr. Newdick opened the door as reverently as if he had been unveiling a memorial.

"And this," he said, "is the Newdick helicopter."

Simon glanced over it vacuously, and looked about him.

"Where are all your workmen today?" he asked.

"They are on holiday," said Mr. Newdick, making a mental note to engage some picturesque mechanics the next day. "An old custom of the firm. I always give them a full day's holiday on the anniversary of my dear mother's death." He wiped away a tear and changed the subject. "How would you like to take a flight?"

"Jolly good idea," agreed the Saint.

The helicopter was wheeled out, and while it was warm­ing up, Simon revealed that he also was a flier and possessed a license for helicopters. Mr. Newdick complimented him gravely. They made a ten-minute flight, and when they had landed again the Saint remained in his seat.

"D'you mind if I try her out myself?" he said. "I won't ask you to take the flight with me."

The machine was not fitted with dual control, but it was well insured. Mr. Newdick only hesitated a moment. He was very anxious to please.

"Certainly," he said. "Give her a thorough test yourself, and you'll see that she's a good bus."

Simon took the ship off and climbed towards the north. When Mr. Newdick's tiny aerodrome was out of sight he put the helicopter through every test he could think of, and the results amazed him even while they only confirmed the re­markable impression he had gained while Mr. Newdick was flying it.

When he saw the London Air Park below him he shut off the engine and came down in a perfect vertical descent which set him down outside the Cierva hangars. Simon climbed out and button-holed one of the company's test pilots.