AVIATION
The tea that followed the fortune-telling was quite a success, as Miss
Armour was a most amusing talker, and the rest of the party proved
themselves to be good listeners. The old lady, being an invalid, had
ample time for reading, and concerned herself chiefly with French
Mémoires, the cynical light-hearted tone of which appealed to her. But
she was also well-posted in English literature of the best kind, and
could converse very ably--as she did--on leading authors and their
works. Dan complimented her on the knowledge she had attained.
"Oh, but it is no credit to me, Mr. Halliday," Miss Armour protested.
"I have so much time unoccupied, and grow weary of playing patience
and of knitting. It would be strange if I did not know something,
after years and years of reading. Books are my best friends."
"Then Mrs. Jarsell is also a book, or say a human document," said Dan
politely.
"She is the best woman in the world," cried Miss Armour, while Mrs.
Jarsell bent her heavy white eyebrows in acknowledgment of the
compliment. "You can have no idea how kind she is to me."
"And to whom should I be kind, but to my old governess," said Mrs.
Jarsell in a gruff way. "Why, you have taught me all I know."
"And I should think Miss Armour could teach a lot," said Laurance in
his pleasant manner; "you know so much and have such tact, that you
should be out in the world governing people, Miss Armour."
She sent a sharp glance in his direction, as if to inquire exactly
what he meant. Then she accepted the compliment with a charming laugh.
"But for this dreadful paralysis, I should, indeed, love to be out in
the world. I love to deal with human nature, and make people do what I
want."
"Can you?" asked Mildred anxiously.
"Yes, child," replied the ex-governess quietly, "because I base my
diplomacy on the knowledge that every one, with few exceptions, is
ruled by self. Harp on that string, and you can manage any one."
"Miss Armour," put in Mrs. Jarsell, in her deep voice, "rather talks
of what she would do than what she does. Here, we see few people. I go
up to town on occasions, but very rarely."
"You must find it dull," said Dan candidly.
For some reason Miss Armour appeared to think this speech amusing.
"Oh, no; I don't find life dull at all, I assure you. There is always
a great deal to be done, when one knows how to set about the doing."
"As how?" questioned the young man, somewhat puzzled.
"Books and music, and card-games and knitting-work," said Mrs. Jarsell
quickly, as if she did not approve of Miss Armour's observations;
"nothing more."
"Quite so nothing more," assented the governess, but with a sudden
flash of her brown eyes directed towards her friend. "Here we are out
of the world. Do you stay long, Mr. Halliday?"
"Only for another couple of days, until I can get the machine."
"You shall get it, I promise you," said Mrs. Jarsell graciously, when
the trio arose to depart. "Mr. Vincent owes me too much to disregard
my request."
"Of course," chimed in Mildred. "Uncle Solomon would never be able to
build his aeroplanes if you didn't help him with money. Good-by, Miss
Armour."
"Good-by, dear child. I shall say _au revoir_ to you, Mr. Halliday, as
I shall expect you to come and see me again, if only to let me know
that your fortune has come true."
"Will it, do you think?"
"Yes," said Miss Armour positively. "I am quite certain that the
chance foretold by the cards will be given you."
Dan hoped it would, and thanked the lady for her happy prediction,
after which he and Freddy, with Mildred between them, left the weird
house, and walked up the darkened road toward the village. Halliday
went at once to the "Peacock," wishing to give Freddy and his beloved
chance of a _tête-à-tête_. They took it readily enough, as Laurance
escorted the girl home. It was an hour before he returned to an
overdue supper, which Mrs. Pelgrin served with fierce grumbling. After
supper, Dan spoke his mind to Laurance.
"When I took up that extra pack of cards," he said abruptly, "I smelt
that same perfume that hung about Sir Charles's clothes when he was
dead."
"What!" Freddy sat up aghast in his corner of the room, "the perfume
about which Penn explained?"
"The same. But did he explain? It seems to me that he told a lie. If
he only had one bottle, and the perfume is not procurable in England,
seeing it is manufactured in Sumatra, how did Miss Armour become
possessed of it?"
"It may not be the same scent," said Laurance, still aghast; "you see
a bird in every bush, Dan."
"This is not a question for the eyes, but for the nose. I tell you,
Freddy, that the perfume is exactly the same."
"Why did you not ask Miss Armour about it?"
"I did; you heard me. She got it from Mrs. Jarsell, so she said. Now
where did Mrs. Jarsell get it? From Sumatra?"
"Perhaps. Why not ask her straight out?"
"No," said Dan decisively. "I shall not mention the subject to Mrs.
Jarsell until I have questioned Marcus Penn once more. He told me a
lie once, by saying that no one in this country possessed this
especial perfume. He shan't tell me another."
"How do you mean to get him to tell you the truth?" asked Freddy
dubiously.
"Never mind. I have some sort of a plan. I shan't explain until it
comes off. There is some connection between that perfume and the
crime, I am certain," concluded Dan, with a positive air.
Laurance wriggled uneasily. "Oh, that is absurd. On such assumption,
you suggest that Miss Armour knows about the matter."
"About what matter?"
"You know--the gang."
"Well," said Halliday, smoking thoughtfully, "we are not entirely
certain yet if such a gang exists. It's all theory anyhow, in spite of
the letters you drew from this person and the other. Penn certainly
explained the scent, but told an obvious lie, since Miss Armour has
it. I don't say that she knows anything, but it is strange that she
should possess the Sumatra perfume."
"Other people can send the same perfume to England," retorted Freddy.
"Penn isn't the sole person who has friends in Sumatra. Mrs. Jarsell,
since she gave the scent to Miss Armour, may have friends in that
island. Ask her."
"No," said Dan, very positively. "I shall ask no one until I make Penn
speak out. In any case, I want to know why he told a lie."
"Perhaps he didn't."
"I'm jolly well sure that he did."
"Then, to put it plainly--you suspect Mrs. Jarsell?"
"To answer plainly, I don't. There can be no connection between two
harmless old ladies living in these wilds and the murder of Sir
Charles. Yet this confounded scent forms a link between the dead man,
Mrs. Jarsell, and Penn."
Laurance rubbed his chin reflectively. "It's odd, to say the least of
it. I suppose you are certain the perfume is the same?"
"I'll swear to it." Dan rose and knocked the ashes out of his pipe.
"And I intend to learn how Mrs. Jarsell became possessed of it. I may
be on a wild goose chase. All the same, with the stake I have, I can't
afford to lose an opportunity."
"So Miss Armour said, when she told your fortune," commented Freddy
thoughtfully.
"Yes. I wonder what she meant?" Dan stretched himself. "I'm for bed.
Ring the bell, and ask Mrs. Pelgrin for the spirits."
Laurance, not feeling called upon to resume the conversation, as he
was tired himself, did as he was told, and Mrs. Pelgrin, raw-boned and
grim, bounced aggressively into the room, to demand fiercely what they
required. She sniffed when whiskey was ordered, but as its consumption
would increase her bill, she brought in a bottle of "Johnny Walker"
and a siphon of soda, without argument. When she turned to depart, and
wished them good-night in tones suggestive of a jailer, a sudden
thought struck Dan. It would not be amiss, he thought, to question
Mrs. Pelgrin concerning the hermit ladies. Not that he expected a
great deal to result from his exanimation, as the worthy woman was a
she-cat, and what she knew would probably have to be clawed out of
her.
"We had tea at The Grange to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin," said Dan casually.
The landlady wrapped her hands in her apron and wheeled grimly at the
door to speak aggressively. "Ho!" she grunted.
"What's that?"
"I said 'Ho,' and 'Ho's' all I'm going to say."
"Well," drawled Freddy with a shrug, "you can't say much less, you
know."
"Less or much, I don't say anything," retorted Mrs. Pelgrin, screwing
up her hard mouth and nodding.
"Nobody wants you to say anything," remarked Dan lazily, but on the
alert.
Of course this speech opened the landlady's mouth. "People say as it's
queer two ladies should live like dormice in a haystack," she observed
significantly.
"That's like people. They will meddle with what doesn't concern them."
"Not me," snorted Mrs. Pelgrin violently and epigrammatically. "I
don't say what I could say, for what I could say wouldn't be what's
right to say."
"Wouldn't it?" inquired Freddy innocently.
"No, it wouldn't, sir; I'm not to be pumped," cried Mrs. Pelgrin, "try
you ever so hard. So there!" and she screwed up her mouth tighter than
ever.
"Who is pumping?" asked Dan coolly; "I simply remarked that we had tea
with Mrs. Jarsell and Miss Armour to-day."
"Friends of yours, no doubt?" snapped the landlady.
"I never saw them before to-day, Mrs. Pelgrin."
"Then don't see them again," advised the woman sharply.
"Thank you for that advice. Anything wrong?"
"Wrong! Wrong! What should be wrong?" Mrs. Pelgrin became more violent
than ever. "There's nothing wrong."
"Then that's all right," said Halliday coolly. "Goodnight."
Mrs. Pelgrin stared hard at him, evidently wondering why he did not
press his questions, seeing how significant a remark she had made. The
idea that her conversation was trivial in his eyes hurt her
self-esteem. She gave another hint that she knew something. "I wonder
how those ladies make their money," she observed casually to the
ceiling.
"Ah, I wonder," agreed Dan, making a covert sign that Freddy should
restrain the question now on the tip of his tongue.
"Three motor-cars," said Mrs. Pelgrin musingly, "four servants, women
all and sluts at that, I do say, with a house like a palace inside,
whatever it may be to look at from the road. All that needs money, Mr.
Halliday."
"Quite so. Nothing for nothing in this greedy world."
"Ten years have those ladies been here," continued the landlady,
exasperated by this indifference as Dan intended she should be, "and
dull they must find that old house. To be sure, Miss Armour is ill and
never moves from her chair--so they say," she ended emphatically and
stared at Halliday.
"So who say?" he inquired phlegmatically.
"Every one, sir. She's paralyzed--so they say."
"And Mrs. Jarsell attends to her like an angel," remarked Dan suavely;
"they say that also, you know."
"Why do you advise us not to see the ladies again?" asked Freddy, who
could no longer rein in his curiosity.
Halliday was annoyed by the question, as he thought it would dry up
the stream of Mrs. Pelgrin's hinted information. But instead of this
happening, she became excessively frank. "Well, it's this way, Mr.
Laurance," she said, rubbing her nose in a vexed manner. "You are two
nice young gentlemen, and I don't want either of you to step in and
spoil George's chance."
"George?"
"My nephew, he being the son of my late husband's brother, and a
porter at the Thawley Railway Station. Mrs. Jarsell had taken quite a
fancy to him, he being a handsome lad in his way, and the chances are
she will leave him a lot of her money, if you two gentlemen don't take
her fancy. Now you know my reason for not wanting you to see her
again."
"Oh, I don't think Mrs. Jarsell will leave either my friend or me
money," said Dan affably. "George Pelgrin is quite safe. I suppose one
good turn deserves another."
"What do you mean?" said the landlady, sharper than ever.
"Well, George Pelgrin must have done something for Mrs. Jarsell to
make her leave him money."
"He's done nothing, and she don't say she'll leave him her money, but
George thinks she might, seeing she has taken a fancy to him. I don't
want you, or Mr. Laurance here, to spoil my nephew's chances."
"Oh, we shan't do that," rejoined Halliday calmly. "I suppose George
finds it dull at the Thawley Station, when there are no Sheepeak
friends there with him. Working at the station, that is."
"Oh, he doesn't find it dull," replied Mrs. Pelgrin innocently; "he
has made friends with plenty of Thawley folk. Are you going away
to-morrow?"
"Perhaps, and perhaps the next day," said Dan, wondering at the direct
question. "You see I wish to get an aeroplane from Mr. Vincent, and as
soon as I do, I shall go back to London."
"You'll be seeing Mrs. Jarsell again?"
Halliday shook his head. "I shall be too busy to spare the time."
Mrs. Pelgrin drew a breath of relief, and again became fierce. "I
ain't ashamed of what I've said," she declared, pulling open the door
violently; "you can tell the whole village if you like," and she
bounced out as she had bounced in, leaving Laurance overcome with
surprise.
"Now what's the meaning of all that chatter?" he asked, staring at
Dan.
"Oh, it's very plain. Mrs. Jarsell has taken a fancy to her nephew,
and Mrs. Pelgrin thinks our fascinations may spoil his chance of
getting money. What I want to know is what George has done for Mrs.
Jarsell to warrant the deep interest she apparently takes in him.
Evidently," mused Dan to himself, "there are not other Sheepeak people
employed at the Thawley Station."
"What of that?" Laurance stared harder than ever.
"Nothing. Only George Pelgrin would be the only person likely to know
Mrs. Jarsell at the Thawley Station. There are motor-cars also,
remember."
"I really don't see what you are driving at, Dan."
"I scarcely see myself, save that I want to learn the secret of that
perfume, and why it forms a link between Moon and Penn and Mrs.
Jarsell."
"But how can this chatter of Mrs. Pelgrin's help?" asked Freddy, more
and more puzzled.
Dan lighted his bedroom candle and walked slowly to the door before he
replied. "I shall have to sleep upon what I know before I can answer
that," he said, nodding. "Good-night, old chap."
"But Dan, Dan, Dan!" called out Laurance, who had heard just enough to
make him wish to hear more, "tell me----"; he stopped speaking, as he
saw that Halliday was out of hearing. It was in a very dissatisfied
frame of mind that Laurance retired to his bed.
Next morning Dan had evidently quite forgotten the conversation of the
landlady, for he made no remark, and although Freddy tried to start
the subject again he declined to revert to it. Halliday declared that
he did not know what to say, that he was putting two and two together,
but as yet could not make four, and that it would be just as well to
seek Mr. Solomon Vincent, to hear if he was disposed to supply an
aeroplane. "Only I wonder," he remarked irrelevantly, as he walked up
the road with his friend, "how it comes that Mrs. Pelgrin speaks more
like a Londoner than a Derbyshire woman."
"I thought we discussed that question before," replied Laurance.
"School-boards are doing away largely with the local dialect. Also
Mrs. Pelgrin, as Mildred told me, was in service for some years at
Reading. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, I ask nothing," said Dan easily; "it was only an idea I had."
"Connected with the case?"
"Yes, and with Mrs. Jarsell."
"Pooh. You see a bird in every bush, Dan."
"So you said before," rejoined Halliday drily; "why repeat yourself?
Hullo, there is our inventor!" he added, as they drew near to the
cottage, "and, by Jove! he's smiling. Mrs. Jarsell had evidently
spoken to him."
It was as Dan said, for Vincent received the young men with a sour
smile, which sat uneasily on his face, since he was more accustomed to
frowning. However, as he was disposed to be amiable, Dan was thankful
for small mercies, and expressed his feeling loudly when the inventor
graciously placed at his disposal an aeroplane of the latest
construction.
"I owe Mrs. Jarsell much," said Vincent, leading the way toward the
shed, "so her requests must be granted. Here is the machine, Mr.
Halliday."
"It's very good of you----"
"It isn't. Don't thank me, but Mrs. Jarsell. Speaking for myself, I
shouldn't allow you to have the aeroplane," said Vincent sourly. "I
want to keep all my improvements to myself until I make a perfect
machine."
"Oh, I'll keep all your secrets," Dan assured him cheerfully as they
entered the vast shed, "and I'll share the prize money with you."
"I don't want it. Win the race and prove that my machine is the best.
That is all I ask. By the way, where is Laurance?"
"Don't you remember? We left him in the cottage with your niece."
"I don't want him to marry her, and he shan't," said Vincent with a
frown, speaking on the subject unexpectedly, "and, what is more, since
he's a newspaper man, I don't want you to talk too freely to him about
my improvements."
"Laurance can hold his tongue," rejoined Dan somewhat stiffly; "your
trade-secrets are safe with him. So this is the machine," he ended, to
avert further discussion on the inventor's part.
"Yes," said Vincent, forgetting all else in the passion of his hobby,
and he began to explain matters. "A biplane, as you see, and it can
carry enough oil and essence for a twelve hours' flight. Wheel it
out," he added, turning to a quartette of workmen. "Mr. Halliday will
try a flight."
Dan was only too ready, as the beauty of the machine appealed to him
immensely, especially when he beheld it in the pale light of the sun,
when it was brought into the open. The men wheeled it out of the
back part of the shed on to a level lawn, which could serve as a
starting-place. Vincent talked all the time in a great state of
excitement, and pointed out the various improvements and beauties of
the masterpiece.
The planes were not exactly horizontal, since Vincent considered that
he gained more power by making them branch at a slight angle. The
wings were doubly covered with fine canvas, and a broad streak of
crimson ran through their white, which the inventor informed Dan was a
characteristic of all his machines. "A sort of distinguishing mark, as
it were," said Vincent. Another improvement was that the aviator could
steer with his knees on occasions, which gave freedom to the hands
when necessary. The engine was light and powerful, with tremendous
driving-power considering its size. Finally, the steering-seat--the
bridge of the airship, as it might be--was fenced in comfortably with
aluminium, and a broad expanse of mica protected the controller of the
aeroplane from the force of the winds. It was really an admirable
machine and Halliday was loud in his praises, to which, however, its
maker paid little attention. Genius does not require laudation, talent
does.
Dan inspected the machine in every direction, tried the steering gear
which ran easily, saw that the engine was well supplied with fuel, and
tested, as well as he could, the various spars and ropes and bolts.
Then he took his seat in the pilot-box, and prepared for a trial
flight.
"Not that she hasn't been out before," said Vincent, while Dan
gathered his energies to start. "Ready, Mr. Halliday. Let her go."
The workman ran the machine along the lawn, Dan set the propeller
going, and after lightly spinning along the ground for some distance
the aeroplane rose into the gray sky like an immense bird. A side
glance showed Dan that Mildred and her lover were running out of the
shed, and had arrived just a moment too late to witness his start.
However, he had no time to pay attention to terrestrial matters, for
all his capabilities were given to handling the new craft. Up and up
he went to a considerable height, with the engine running true and
sweet, then dived nearly to earth in switch-back fashion, only to
tower again like a hawk. Shortly he was at a lofty elevation,
travelling along at top speed in the direction of the ten-mile-distant
Thawley. Vincent and his workmen, Laurance and the girl, became mere
black dots, and beneath him the earth slipped past at more than
railroad speed. Once in the vast spaces of the firmament Dan let his
engines travel at their fastest, and the vanes of the propeller spun,
as an American would say, like greased lightning. Halliday's pulses
raced almost as fast, as the joy of playing with death seized him. In
the delicate structure of the aeroplane--being its soul and
controlling power--he felt like a bird and swooped in mighty arcs in
proof of his mastership of the sky.
In a few minutes he was over Thawley, and a downward glance showed him
innumerable black insects running with excitement here, there, and
everywhere, as the machine was sighted. Dan dipped nearly to the
weathercock of the parish church, then slid out toward the northern
portion of the town. Making his aerial way with the speed of the wind
Thawley was soon left behind and the aviator hovered over a wide
country dotted with villages, intersected with streams, and rough with
more or less high hills that divided the many vales of the country.
Ten minutes took him out of Hillshire, and he flew over the mild
Yorkshire moors. The air sang past him on either side of the mica
screen, which prevented his breath being taken away. Everything was
taut and fit and neat, and in its right place, and the engine sang a
song of triumph, which mingled with the droning hum of the screw.
Below was the painted earth, above the gray sky, faintly illuminated
by the wintry sunshine, and between the two Halliday flew with the
swiftness of a kestrel sighting its prey. Dan was used to this sublime
excitement, and could control his feelings--otherwise he would have
shouted for joy, which would have been from his point of view, a mere
waste of energy.
He finally reached York, circled round the Minster, and then turned
his craft homeward in glee. The machine was certainly the best he had
yet handled, and he made sure that given moderately decent conditions
he would win the race and gain the £2,000 necessary to continue his
search for Moon's murderess. And the capture of her, as he reminded
himself, meant his marriage with Lillian. No wonder the young man's
heart beat high, for it was not easy to come by so magnificent an
aeroplane, and he felt as grateful to Vincent for building it as he
felt to Mrs. Jarsell for procuring him the mastership of the same.
Those left behind on the lawn behind the Sheepeak shed stared steadily
into the gray distance, and shortly saw a dim spot moving toward them
with the swiftness of an eagle. Larger and larger it grew, until they
could distinguish the aeroplane's construction, like a delicate
tracery against the clouds. In a wide circle it moved gracefully and
then like a bird folding its wings, settled gently at the very feet of
its inventor. The trial was a complete success in every way.