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Updated: May 21, 2025
Peter looked back from the door. "At any rate, Mr. Andrea Korust," he said, "your first supper was a success. Colonel Mayson was genuine. Our real English military aeronaut was here, and he has disclosed to you, Maurice Korust, all that he ever knew. Henceforth I presume your great country will dispute with us for the mastery of the air."
He turned sharply round and met the coachman's eyes, shrewd, observant, lit, he thought, by a flickering of sarcasm. "Has the doctor been here long?" said Dion. "Sir?" "This is a doctor's carriage, isn't it?" "Yes, sir. Doctor Mayson." "Well, I say, has he been here long?" "About an hour, sir, or a little more." "Thanks." Dion turned again and assaulted the latchkey.
"That helps," he murmured. "See, our last guest arrives. Ah!" A tall, spare-looking man was just being announced. They heard his name as Andrea presented him to a companion: "Colonel Mayson!" Mademoiselle Celaire saw a gleam in her companion's eyes. "It is coming the idea?" she whispered. "Very vaguely," he admitted. "Who is this Colonel Mayson?" "Our only military aeronaut," Peter replied.
When the carriage had been sent away, he asked Doctor Mayson to come into his den for a moment. The pains of labor had come on unexpectedly, but were not exceptionally severe; everything pointed to an easy confinement. "Your wife is one of the strongest and healthiest women I have ever attended," Doctor Mayson added; "superb health. It's a pleasure to see any one like that.
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