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Sorry I sent my man just now with a message that must leave sounded rather curt, but the Scotland Yard people kindly excused me, so I can give you a minute or two.... No, I'm sorry, but I cannot come to luncheon tomorrow, nor go to Brooklands again this week.
Thenceforth the day had passed in a whirl of excitement, active in respect to police inquiries and passive in its resistance to newspaper interviewers. He saw no valid reason why his employer's plans should be disturbed, so made no effort to communicate with him at Brooklands. "Them 'tecs were very pressin', sir," said Bates, rather indignantly, "very pressin', especially the little one.
He was reading a treatise on aeronautics, and, like every novice, had already formulated a flying scheme which would supersede all known inventions. "Not later than 8," he said. "I must be out by 9. And, by the way, I may as well tell you now. After lunch tomorrow I am going to Brooklands. I return to Waterloo at 6:40.
Sopwith was looking out for a pilot, and he engaged Hawker, whom he had seen during some good flying at Brooklands. In a month or two he was engaged in record breaking, and in June, 1913, he tried to set up a new British height record. In his first attempt he rose to 11,300 feet; but as the carburettor of the engine froze, and as the pilot himself was in grave danger of frost-bite, he descended.
What Harry Hawker is to Mr. Sopwith so is F. P. Raynham to Mr. Roe. This skilful pilot learned to fly at Brooklands, and during the last year or two he has been continuously engaged in testing Avro machines, and passing them through the Army reception trials. In the "Aerial Derby" of 1913 Mr. Raynham piloted an 80-horse-power Avro biplane, and came in fourth.
I expect it will come to my taking him to the sea, unless James consents to Scotland. We used to do that, but now well, he's bored there." He was looking at her, she felt, though she couldn't see him. "Did you ever go to Norway?" She shook her head. He said no more on that head just then. "I shall see you in London," he told her. "I am going to take my Certificate at Brooklands. Next week I hope.
A great crowd of smart men and women waited also at Brooklands to cheer the second in the race, who in England is always more popular than the prize-winner. But when Vedrines came to earth out of a blue sky he was savage and bitter. The loss of the prize- money was a great tragedy to this mechanic who had staked all his ambition on the flight.
Those who met him in that showroom in Bond Street never dreamed of the alert leather-coated and helmeted figure who tore round the rough track at Brooklands testing cars, and so often rising up that steep cemented slope, the test of great speed. At six o'clock on the Wednesday evening he stood in his cosy room in Bennett Street awaiting Peggy.
He was of good birth and had graduated at Brasenose. His father had been a well-known official at the Foreign Office in the days of King Edward and had died after a short retirement. In his life Charlie had done his best, and had distinguished himself not only in his Army career, but in that of the world of motoring, where his name was as well known as any of the fearless drivers at Brooklands.
It is significant, however, of the slow progress made that by November 1st, 1910, only twenty-two pilot's certificates had been issued, and it was Conneau, a French naval officer, who in 1911 won the so-called "Circuit of Britain," i.e. a flight from Brooklands and back via Edinburgh, Glasgow, Exeter and Brighton. Cody and Valentine were the only British competitors to complete the full course.
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