The Cruise of the Gyro-Car — A Closer Reading

te. He did not so much as lift his eyes as the vehicle passed, and George turned his head aside: the brothers might have been strangers.

For several days George was hardly to be seen. He had ordered a new front wheel and fork from the maker, and until they arrived forbore to speak of the gyro-car, and occupied himself in repairing the wind-screen in front, and in working at various mechanical models with which he was experimenting. He was going up to Cambridge in October, and the science master at his school foretold that he would take a first-class in the engineering tripos, if he would only concentrate himself and not dabble in things outside the curriculum.

The new parts arrived. On the next day Maurice was strolling past the workshop, which he had never yet deigned to enter, when his attention was arrested by the sight of his brother’s car standing by itself on the path. A faint humming proceeded from its interior. George was not to be seen. In spite of himself, Maurice found himself gazing at the machine with interest, for, though it had four wheels tandem, and was not supported on either side, it stood perfectly upright. He glanced round furtively to make sure that his brother was not watching, and then walked round the car, stooping at every few paces to look beneath it and assure himself that he was not mistaken. There were no supports; the machine was actually balancing itself on its four wheels.

“Rummy!” he murmured. “How’s it done?”

He was peeping over the side of the car, when George’s voice hailed him heartily.

“Hallo, Maurice! Isn’t she a beauty?”

Instantly he moved away, and began to stroll down the path as if nothing could be less worthy of his attention.

“Swank!” said George to himself.

He turned the starting-handle, mounted into the car, depressed the clutch-pedal, and having advanced the speed-lever a little, ran up the path, out at the front gate, and disappeared.

Maurice flung his cigarette away, looking a trifle disconcerted. He went to his room opening on to the road, and remained at the window until he heard the hum of the car returning. Then he slipped into the garden, and was sauntering up and down, when George ran the machine down the path to its garage.

“I’ve had a jolly spin,” said George. “Nearly ran into a foreign fellow in the village: there appears to be a little colony of foreigners there: come to try boating, I suppose.”

He sprang out of the car, causing it to set up a slight rocking motion, and went into his workshop. Maurice stood at a distance of a few yards, contemplating what was to him an embodied mystery.

The machine was several feet longer than an ordinary motor-car, but about half as wide, and shaped like a boat. Indeed, its general appearance was that of a motor-cycle which had broken through the bottom of a rowing boat. Abaft amidships there was a seat for two persons, arranged pannier fashion, and sunk somewhat below the top of the framework on which it rested. A little to the rear of the seat was a glass chamber, in which were two top-like things, connected by a bar. It was, apparently, from these that the humming proceeded, but they were not visibly rotating, though they swayed slightly. In front was the casing, presumably covering the motor; behind was a similar object, but smaller.

George came out of the workshop.

“Hallo!” he said, as if recognising his brother for the first time. “Taking a squint?”

“What are those things?” asked Maurice, nodding towards the glass case.

“Those? Oh, they’re the gyroscopes.”

He got into the car, and let down, one on each side, two supports, each with a small wheel at the end. Then he moved a lever to stop the spinning of the gyroscopes, got out again, lifted the cover of the motor, and proceeded to oil the engine. For some time not a word was spoken. Then Maurice broke the silence.

“Er! H’m! What, may I ask, is a gyroscope?”

“H’m! Do you think you could manage to speak in words of more than one syllable?”

“Well, gyroscope has three.”

“Undoubtedly. I am still a little doubtful as to the accuracy of your definition, or perhaps I should say, of the perfectness of my apprehension. Will you condescend to be lucid?”

“Oh, you want to be treated to a lecture in mechanics, do you? Are you sure it won’t hurt you? Aren’t you afraid of your name getting into the papers?”

Maurice opened his cigarette-case and offered it to his brother.

“Thanks, old man,” said George, contritely. “Got a light?”