The secretary regarded him with benevolent eyes. “You do not deserve anyzing!” he said.
Bert's being seemed to tighten towards desperate deeds. “Gaw!” he said, clutching his coat, “AIN'T there?”
“Pe galm,” said the secretary. “Listen! You shall haf five hundert poundts. You shall haf it on my promise. I will do that for you, and that is all I can do. Take it from me. Gif me the name of that bank. Write it down. So! I tell you the Prince--is no choke. I do not think he approffed of your appearance last night. No! I can't answer for him. He wanted Pooterage, and you haf spoilt it. The Prince--I do not understand quite, he is in a strange state. It is the excitement of the starting and this great soaring in the air. I cannot account for what he does. But if all goes well I will see to it--you shall haf five hundert poundts. Will that do? Then gif me the plans.”
“Old beggar!” said Bert, as the door clicked. “Gaw!--what an ole beggar!--SHARP!”
He sat down in the folding-chair, and whistled noiselessly for a time.
“Nice 'old swindle for 'im if I tore 'em up! I could 'ave.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “I gave the whole blessed show away. If I'd j'es' kep quiet about being Enonymous.... Gaw!... Too soon, Bert, my boy--too soon and too rushy. I'd like to kick my silly self.
“After all, it ain't so very bad,” he said.
“After all, five 'undred pounds.... It isn't MY secret, anyhow. It's jes' a pickup on the road. Five 'undred.
“Wonder what the fare is from America back home?”
And later in the day an extremely shattered and disorganised Bert Smallways stood in the presence of the Prince Karl Albert.
The proceedings were in German. The Prince was in his own cabin, the end room of the airship, a charming apartment furnished in wicker-work with a long window across its entire breadth, looking forward. He was sitting at a folding-table of green baize, with Von Winterfeld and two officers sitting beside him, and littered before them was a number of American maps and Mr. Butteridge's letters and his portfolio and a number of loose papers. Bert was not asked to sit down, and remained standing throughout the interview. Von Winterfeld told his story, and every now and then the words Ballon and Pooterage struck on Bert's ears. The Prince's face remained stern and ominous and the two officers watched it cautiously or glanced at Bert. There was something a little strange in their scrutiny of the Prince--a curiosity, an apprehension. Then presently he was struck by an idea, and they fell discussing the plans. The Prince asked Bert abruptly in English. “Did you ever see this thing go op?”