The Councillors of Falconhoe by Fred M. White

Enderby was not the sort of man to waste time. He gave a few crisp, curt orders to the old soldier who acted as general factotum at Falconhoe Manor, and whilst the others were throwing a few things into a suit-case, he hurried down the slope to the shelving rook just above the beach to the whitewashed cottages where the Helicop was stored. Half an hour later the machine had been run out on to a wide stretch of lawn beyond the tennis court, and was tuned up under the powerful rays of a searchlight, so that in ten minutes she was ready for flight.

It was a machine entirely of Enderby's own invention, built of aluminium with large hollow struts, and the double casing of the 'plane contained a powerful gas, evolved out of Enderby's own mind which was wonderfully light in lifting, so that in the Helicop he possessed a machine which was not only driven by enormously high-powered engines, but which, owing to his gas, was lighter than air. If anything happened to the engines, there was no more chance of the machine crashing than if she had been a dirigible in a gale of wind. And she was a helicopter in the best sense of the word. She had the power of rising from the ground in eccentric circles, and as perpendicular as a bird rising from a twig. She could lift off a patch of ground not more than twice the area of her wings, and drop down again as easily, so that she could have landed on the deck of a battleship, or even a destroyer, without the slightest danger of damage. Moreover, her wings were folding, as was the body of the car, and with seating accommodation for three. She could be packed at almost a moment's notice, and transferred from place to place on the waggon of a train. Enderby smiled to himself as he saw how smoothly everything was working.