An Old Captivity by Nevil Shute

my brother’s going with you.”
    Ross nodded. “It should be quite all right. But if it’s not, I shall play for safety first. In that case, we may spend the money and show no results—this year, at any rate.”
    The manufacturer looked at him closely, weighing him up. At last he said: “Well, we’ll let it go at that. Mr. Hanson’s going to check up on your references. If those are satisfactory, he’ll write you a letter of engagement on the terms you want. You’ll have to fix up with Hanson and my brother the conditions for your bonus.”
    He got up from his desk. “All right. I shall be seeing more of you, I expect.”
    Ross said: “I’ll do my best to get this through all right, sir.”
    “You’d better. Don’t pay any attention to that silly girl. I’ll sort her out at the week-end.”
    He paused, standing erect behind his desk. “I offered Cyril twenty-five thousand for his research six years ago,” he said. “He hasn’t taken a thousand yet. I hope this means he’s come to realise that money’s meant to be used.”
    Ross left the room with Hanson. In the outer office he turned to the secretary, and said:
    “We shall have to hop around now, Mr. Hanson, if we’re going to get through in time. How soon can we start and order the machine?”
    The secretary looked down his nose. “To-day is Friday. If all goes right, we should be able to engage you definitely on Monday, Mr. Ross. After that, you can make a start.”
    “All right. I’m going back to Oxford now to see Mr. Lockwood. Over the week-end I’ll make out a programme of what we’ve got to do. Unless I hear from you to the contrary, I’ll be back here on Monday morning.”
    The secretary smiled. “I should be ready for you by that time. But you’ve got six weeks, or more. A day or two won’t make much difference.”
    The pilot said: “That’s just where you go wrong, Mr. Hanson. If we get that machine delivered, shipped and erected in this country, ready to start, six weeks from now, we shall do damn well. I don’t believe it can be done that quickly. But that’s when we’ve got to have it. If we don’t get that order placed on Monday you can call the whole thing off.”
    The secretary nodded. “I see what you mean. I’ll talk it over with Sir David.”
    Ross left the works, and was carried swiftly in the works car to the station. He caught the next train back to Oxford. He got there at about nine o’clock at night, and rang up Lockwood from a telephone booth at the station.
    The don said: “I have had a long talk with my brother on the telephone, Mr Ross. Would you care to come and spend the night again? That’s fine. Come along now.”
    Ross took a taxi to the house in Norham Gardens; the job seemed sufficiently secure for that expenditure. He was very tired; before meeting Lockwood he made an excuse to the parlourmaid and went and washed his face. Then he went to the study; the don was there with his daughter. Lockwood got up from his desk and came to meet him; the girl remained in her deep chair, reading her book.
    Lockwood said: “You seem to have a made a good impression on my brother, Mr. Ross.”
    The pilot smiled. “I’m very glad to hear it. I had a long talk with his secretary before I saw Sir David.”
    “You mean Mr. Hanson? He’s been with my brother a long time. He helps me a great deal with my income-tax.”
    They talked about the expedition generally for a time.
    “I’ll have a look at the route over the week-end,” said Ross. “The machine will have to be shipped to Southampton. I’ll get it erected somewhere on Southampton Water. Then we’ll have to go to one of the places in the north—Scotland—Oban, or somewhere like that. From there to Reykjavik in Iceland must be eight or nine hundred miles—we’ll have to make that in one hop. From Reykjavik to Angmagsalik is five or six hundred, I believe, and about thesame from Angmagsalik to Julianehaab. But I’ll have to look it all up—I’m