He steered the financier gingerly round the planes, past the propelling and steering fans, and got him into the car.

He set him well forward in the bows of it, and began to let the rope unwind from the windlass which moored the flying-machine.

All the while he heard the steady snores of Herr Schlugst, sleeping in his iron hut.
The flying-machine rose slowly with very little creaking for all the greatness of the planes; the last of the rope ran out, and the lights of the town sank like stones in water beneath them.
"Right away!" cried Tinker joyfully, and the financier gasped.
When the lights of the town were a mere blur beneath them, Tinker switched on the electric lamps, and the millionaire saw him sitting on a wicker seat in the stern of the boat-shaped car, surrounded by levers, instruments, and dials.

Tinker bade him grip the steel rails on either side of the car, and get ready for a swoop.

Then he set the motor going, and steered round the flying-machine on to her course.
She rose and rose, moving steadily forward at the same time, far above the sound of the waves of the Channel.
Now Herr Schlugst did not rely so much on his propeller for speed as on his skilful adaptation of the principle on which the bird swoops.