Publisher's Synopsis
"What's the move?" enquired Kenneth Kenyon. "Ask me another, old son," replied his chum, Peter Bramsdean. "Fosterdyke is a cautious old stick, but he knows what's what. There's something in the wind, you mark my words." "Then you're going to see him?" "Rather! And you too, old bean. Where's a pencil? We can't keep the telegraph boy waiting." Bramsdean tore a form from a pad, scribbled on it the reply--"Fosterdyke, Air Grange, near Blandford. Yes, will expect motor to-morrow morning," and he had taken the initial step of a journey that man had never before attempted.
