MAHOMET'S COFFIN
The aeroplane acquired by Halliday could be dismounted in three parts,
so that it could easily have been taken to pieces and packed for
transfer to London. But the race for _The Moment_ prize was to take
place within seven days, and Dan wished to familiarize himself with
the machine as much as was possible in the interval. For this reason
he decided to go by air to the metropolis, taking the journey in easy
flights, with intervals of rest between. He therefore arranged to send
his baggage back to town with Freddy, and carried only a small black
bag containing absolutely necessary personal effects. Freddy did not
object to this plan, as he did not wish to leave Mildred sooner than
was necessary. Therefore Dan started and Laurance remained behind to
pass golden hours in the girl's society. However, he promised his
friend to be in London within two days. And as Halliday, besides
covering the hundred and sixty-odd miles in short flights, desired to
practise aviation in the open spaces of the country before getting to
the capital, it was not needful for Freddy to return to his business
until forty-eight hours had passed. This arrangement suited both the
young men very well.
Vincent, who was now as hot in Dan's favor as he had been cold,
presided at the start, and again and again went over various details
in connection with the machine, which was much dearer to him than any
child could have been. Now that his objections had been set aside by
the intervention of Mrs. Jarsell, the inventor was desperately anxious
that Dan should win the race, as such a triumph would undoubtedly show
the value of the new-fangled biplane. Not that Vincent wished for the
money, or even for the glory, but he very greatly desired to show
other inventors that he was their master. His vanity, being purely
concerned with the result of nights and days of meditation, could only
be gratified by actual proof that he had conquered the air. Not
entirely that is, for Vincent was far too thorough in his genius to
believe that Rome could be built in a day; but, at all events, he
trusted that his machine would reveal itself as the best that any man
had yet constructed. So far as that was concerned, Halliday,
accustomed to aviation, believed that the sour old man had succeeded.
"If I don't win the race, it won't be your fault, Mr. Vincent," Dan
assured him, as he stepped into the pilot's box, and, with this
farewell speech, the inventor expressed himself very well content. He
did not expect impossibilities, and he saw that the man to whom he had
entrusted his darling airship was both cool and enthusiastic,
qualities which go far toward complete success.
It was a calm day, with scarcely any wind, when Dan began his flight,
and as the biplane could easily attain sixty miles an hour he would
have had no difficulty in reaching London early in the afternoon. But
he did not make straight for the south, but circled gradually down to
Rugby, where he proposed to remain for the night. Dawdling in the air,
it was five hours before he alighted outside the town, and feeling
weary with the strain on his nerves--for the machine required
dexterous handling--he determined to rest. Without much difficulty he
found a friendly farmer, who was willing that the airship should be
housed in an empty barn for the night. When all was safe and Halliday
had arranged that no one should enter the barn, he sought out a cheap
inn on the borders of the place to rest for the night, within
watching-distance of his craft. Next morning, after breakfast, he
concluded to start again, but after a visit to the barn to see that
all was well, he returned to the inn for an hour.
It was necessary, he thought, to consider the situation and his future
plans, and he wished for solitude to do so. Owing to his fatigue, he
had not been able to think much on the previous night before sleep
overtook him.
The plan, which Dan intended to carry into effect when he reached
Town, was to force Penn into confessing what he actually knew
concerning the perfume. He had obviously spoken falsely as to his
being its sole possessor in England, since Mrs. Jarsell had given the
like scent to her old governess. Yet, why should Penn lie in this
fashion, unless there was some secret connected with the perfume,
which he desired to keep concealed. And assuredly the scent had clung
round the clothes of the dead man. Dan determined to force Penn into
confession, and that could only be done by frightening him greatly. To
carry out this plan, Halliday wrote to the man asking him for an
interview, and when he came--as Dan was certain he would--intended, in
some way, to inveigle him into taking a flight. Once Penn was in the
air his fears could be played upon to some purpose. At least Dan
thought so, and was eager to make the experiment.
Of course, the young man did not suspect Mrs. Jarsell of being
connected in any way with crime of any sort. Still it was strange that
the perfume from Sumatra should form a link between her and Sir
Charles Moon, with Penn intervening. It was also strange that Mrs.
Pelgrin should hint that Mrs. Jarsell had secrets. She had not said as
much in so many words, but the general trend of her cautious
conversation went to show that Mrs. Jarsell was not entirely open and
aboveboard. The landlady had wondered where the owner of the Grange
got her money. Now why should she so wonder, unless she had proofs
that the said money was not come by honestly? And why, also, should
she, in a quite unnecessary way, mention her nephew, who was the
Thawley station porter--friendly with Mrs. Jarsell to such an extent
that there was a chance of his getting a legacy? Ladies of wealth do
not make friends of railway porters without reason, and Dan wished to
learn the reason in this particular case. By a diplomatic question he
had ascertained from Mrs. Pelgrin that her nephew was the sole
Sheepeak person employed at the station. Consequently he would
naturally be the sole person who knew Mrs. Jarsell and all about her;
therefore it was not impossible that the lady befriended the man so
that he might not speak of her visits to town. Yet why should he not
do so, should Mrs. Jarsell's doings be entirely honest? Then there
were three motor cars, a quite unnecessary number for a lady to keep,
especially as, according to her own story, she went out little and
spent most of her time in attending to Miss Armour. On the whole,
although his suspicions were vague, Dan had an idea that Mrs.
Jarsell's doings would not bear the light of day. Still--and
especially since she had procured him the biplane--he would not have
troubled about her rustic affairs save for the fact of the perfume. It
might be--and this he hoped to discover--that Penn's confession would
show more plainly the link which connected Mrs. Jarsell with the
Hampstead crime. Yet, on the face of it, the very idea seemed
monstrous, and Dan scorned himself for his folly as he wrote the
letter to Penn. Nevertheless, something stronger than himself drove
him to post the letter.
Afterwards, to get the unpleasant taste of conspiring out of his
mouth, the young man wrote a lover-like epistle to Lillian, telling
her about his capture of the aeroplane. "You and Mrs. Bolstreath must
come and see the start of the race at Blackheath," wrote Dan, "and
your mere presence will inspire me to do my very best to win. So much
hangs on my gaining this race, as I want the money to prosecute the
search for your father's assassin!" Then Halliday left business for
pleasure, and, telling Lillian that he adored her to distraction,
urged her not to see too much of Lord Curberry. Finally, he declared
that he was hungering for a glimpse of her angel face, and now that he
was returning to London intended to call and see her, despite the
prohibition of Sir John. There was much more passionate writing to the
same effect, and the letter ended with sentiments of lively and lofty
devotion. If another man had written the letter Dan would have smiled
at its vehemence, since the scribe cast himself under Miss Moon's
dainty feet to be trampled upon. But as Dan was the author of the
epistle, he only regretted that he could not say more ardent things
than he had set down. To such lengths does the passion of love carry
the most matter-of-fact of men; and Halliday certainly prided himself
upon being a very up-to-date child of this materialistic age,
believing in nothing he could not see, or touch, or feel.
The letters having been posted, and the bill paid, and the black bag
packed, Dan took his way to the barn of the friendly farmer. He found
quite a number of people before the great doors, as the news that an
aviator was in the neighborhood had spread rapidly. The farmer did not
wish to take any rent for the night's lodging of the aeroplane, but as
it had been guarded so carefully and was housed so comfortably,
Halliday insisted on the man having some recompense for his kindness.
Then, with the assistance of three or four willing onlookers, the
machine was wheeled out into the meadow wherein the barn stood. It was
close upon mid-day when Dan started, and the spectators gasped with
awe and delighted surprise when the biplane, like a big dragon-fly,
soared into the cloudy sky. Willing to give them pleasure, since an
airship was not a common sight in the neighborhood, Halliday did some
fancy flying, and circled and dipped and towered directly over the
town before finally waving his hand in farewell. A thin cry of many
throats came to his ears as he sped southward, and he was delighted to
find how readily the machine answered to every motion of his hand. He
almost felt that he was riding on a live thing, all nerves and energy,
so obedient was the craft to his will. The machine was like a flying
beetle, the planes motionless to sustain the body like the front wings
of the insect, while the propeller, spinning vigorously, acted like
the back wings to drive ahead. Dan had a faint idea of seeing some
comparison of this sort in a magazine, and wondered if Vincent, having
seen it also, had constructed his aeroplane on insect lines. But he
soon dropped all conjecture to attend strictly to his business, which
was to reach London as speedily as possible; no very difficult task,
considering the swiftness of his vehicle.
It was convenient that Dan should know a shed at Blackheath where he
could house his machine, as Lord Curberry's house was in that
neighborhood. Once on the spot it would be easy to have an interview
with Marcus Penn, and perhaps not difficult to induce him to take the
air in the loft spaces of the sky. The neighborhood was well known to
Halliday, for his occupation of aviation brought him often there, and
he had experimented with various inventions at various times, where
the land afforded room for the departure and arrival of the machines;
therefore, when he reached London's outskirts he made for Blackheath,
and without difficulty brought the aeroplane to earth, a stone-throw
from the shed in question. It said a great deal for the capabilities
of the biplane that her pilot was enabled to strike his destination so
exactly. Of course, the usual concourse of people gathered when the
great bird-like structure fluttered down from the sky, but Dan sent a
messenger to the man who looked after the shed, and soon had Vincent's
masterpiece safely put away under lock and key. As he had been
practising flying and strenuously testing the qualities of the
machine, it was quite five o'clock before he was free to do what he
would. As the distance from Rugby was just over eighty miles he could
have arrived much earlier had he wished. But there was no need to do
so, and every need to accustom himself to handling the biplane easily
in view of the great race.
When Dan had given certain instructions to the man who looked after
the shed and was responsible for the safety of the machine, he walked
across the Heath to a comfortable inn, where he was well known, as he
had put up at it many times previously. It was here that he had
appointed the meeting with Marcus Penn, for the next morning, but so
eager was he to come face to face with the man and wring the truth out
of him, that he almost decided to walk to Lord Curberry's house, which
was two miles distant. But a swift reflection that he could do nothing
until the next morning--since Penn had to be coaxed on to the
aeroplane and certainly would decline a night-run--decided him to
wait. The "Black Bull" was a particularly comfortable hotel and the
landlady supplied tasty dinners; therefore Halliday took the good the
gods sent him and settled down for a quiet evening. After a stroll to
the shed to see that Vincent's creation was all right he returned to
the inn and went to bed. His nerves speedily relaxed, and he slept
deeply until nine o'clock in the morning. As he had invited Penn to
see him at eleven, he had just time to take his breakfast comfortably,
read the newspaper, and saunter; out to take the fresh air before his
visitor arrived.
Marcus Penn had not improved in looks since Dan had last seen him. His
thin face was still yellow, his hair and moustache still scanty, and
he appeared to be as nervous as ever. When he sat down he looked
apprehensively at Halliday with his pale eyes, and passed his tongue
over his dry lips. It seemed to the aviator that Penn's conscience was
not quite at rest, else he would scarcely look so scared, when--on the
face of it--there was no need to do so. Dan, however, soon set him at
his ease, which was the first necessary step towards gaining his
confidence. For, unless that was gained he assuredly would not set
foot on the aeroplane.
"How are you getting along, Mr. Penn?" said Halliday, genially. "Have
a cigarette and something wet? Oh, I forget you don't drink so early
in the day. I am glad you are up to time, as I am just starting out on
a fly."
"Really," remarked the secretary eagerly. "I should like to see you
make a start. Is your flying-machine near at hand?"
"In the shed over yonder, on the verge of the Heath," said Dan,
jerking his head over his left shoulder; "but I daresay you wonder why
I asked you to see me, Mr. Penn?"
"Well, er--that is--er--I did wonder a trifle," hesitated the pale
man, and again looked anxious.
"It has to do with your literary ambitions," said Halliday slowly.
Penn flushed, looking both relieved on learning why he had been
summoned to the meeting and pleased that the subject should be of such
personal interest. "What do you know of my literary ambitions?" he
asked doubtfully.
"All that Miss Moon could tell me," said Dan, promptly, and this was
absolutely correct, as Lillian had long ago asked him to aid the
secretary, although he had never troubled about the matter until now.
"Yes, I certainly did tell Miss Moon that I wished to become a
novelist. I found her sympathetic."
"Yes, she would be; she always is. I suppose," said Dan darting off at
a tangent, "that you are comfortable with Lord Curberry?"
"Oh, yes," assented the man, cheerfully. "I have good pay and little
to do, and Lord Curberry is very kind. I have plenty of time to write
my stories."
"Have you had any published?"
"No," sighed Penn, sadly, "I have tried again and again to get some
short tales printed, but so far, without success.
"Well, then, you know that I have a friend--Mr. Frederick
Laurance--who is on that newspaper _The Moment_. I suggest that you
should send me some of your manuscripts for him to read. If he
approves of them he will see what he can do, as he knows nearly every
one of any note in the literary world."
"Oh, you are too good. I shall be delighted. All the same," Penn
hesitated, and writhed, "why should you do this for me?"
"It is Miss Moon who is doing this for you," rejoined Halliday, saying
what was perfectly true; "she asked me to help you. I suppose she
comes sometimes to Lord Curberry's house?"
"Oh, yes," said Penn, with a swift glance at him, "her uncle, Sir
John, and Miss Moon and Mrs. Bolstreath dined with Lord Curberry last
week. I am afraid, Mr. Halliday," added the secretary timidly, "that
you will lose Miss Moon."
Dan laughed cheerfully. "I don't think so. Why should I?"
"Her uncle is very anxious for her to marry Lord Curberry, who is also
very desirous to make Miss Moon his wife."
"That shows Curberry's good taste," said Halliday rising, and putting
on his cap. "However, she is to be my wife, and Curberry and Sir John
can go hang."
"I should not be so sure, Mr. Halliday," said Penn, in a mysterious
manner, "when Lord Curberry wants anything, he generally gets it."
"He is crying for the moon just now," said the other man making a pun,
"and the moon is no man's property. However, I must go off to start
for my flying practise. I am going to compete in the London to York
race next week. Come with me and see me start. As to your stories, you
can send them to me at my old address, which you knew when you were
with Sir Charles. I shall see Mr. Laurance about them."
"You are good," murmured Penn, drawing a long breath and following Dan
out of the inn. "I am obliged to you."
"To Miss Moon, you mean. She is the one who takes an interest in your
literary efforts. But come along and see my machine. I got it from an
inventor called Vincent," and Dan turned suddenly to shoot an
inquiring glance at his companion. It occurred to him that Penn might
have heard the name since Penn had the perfume as well as Mrs.
Jarsell, who knew the inventor. But evidently Penn had not heard the
name, for he gave no sign of knowledge.
"I hope it is a good machine," he said innocently and weakly.
"Very good," said Halliday, as they halted near the great doors of the
shed, "a clipper. Why not try a fly with me?"
"Oh!" Penn shrank back. "I should be afraid."
"Nonsense, man!" joked the aviator while the aeroplane was wheeled
out, and the usual crowd of onlookers began to gather. "As a literary
man you ought to experience all sensation so as to write about it.
Coming stories will be full of flying-machines and airships."
"Isn't it dangerous?" asked Penn, looking at the delicate structure
which appeared almost too fragile to sustain one person, let alone
two.
"Not at all, especially if one doesn't do any fancy flying, which I
shall avoid if you come with me."
"I should like to have the experience," hesitated the secretary, "that
is if you will not fly too high or too far."
"I'll take you across the Heath and back again and will keep within a
tolerably safe distance from the ground."
"It's tempting," quavered Penn, wistfully, while Dan busied himself in
getting things square.
"Please yourself," rejoined Halliday carelessly, and satisfied that
the timid man was nibbling at the bait. "I can't stay here all day."
He slipped into the pilot's seat. "Well, well?"
"I really think I should like--where am I to sit?"
"In this place." Dan touched a spring and the pilot box of aluminium
lengthened out so that there was room for two people. This was one of
Vincent's improvements upon which he prided himself, as the vehicle
could, by adjusting the closed-in car, seat two people or one, as the
need arose. "But don't come, if you feel the least fear."
Those of the idle spectators close at hand grinned at Penn's pale
face, and he was stung into accepting hastily what he would have
rejected in a cooler moment. "I am not afraid," he said, trying to
steady his voice, and with an air of bravado he stepped in beside the
aviator. "Oh, I say," he gasped.
And no wonder. Dan did not give him a moment to change his mind.
Having captured his prey, he intended to keep him, so set the engine
going almost before Penn was comfortably seated. In less time than it
takes to tell the aeroplane whirled along the ground swiftly and
lifted herself gracefully upward. Penn gasped again, and glanced down
at the sinking ground, where the spectators were already beginning to
grow smaller. But the motion of the biplane was so easy, and the face
of her pilot was so composed, that after the first thrill of terror
Penn began to feel that flying was not such a very dangerous pastime
as he had imagined.
"Wonderful, wonderful," he murmured, as the great artificial bird
glided smoothly through the air, "but don't--don't go too high, Mr.
Halliday."
"I shall go high enough to smash you," said Dan, coolly. He was
circling in swallow flights round the Heath, now high now low, now
swift now slow, and had the machine so entirely under command that he
was enabled to give a certain amount of his attention, though not all,
to his companion.
Penn gasped again, and his terror revived. "Smash me! Oh!!" he almost
shrieked.
"Yes," said Dan, not looking, since he had to watch where he was
going, but speaking rapidly and clearly all the same. "I want to know
the truth about that perfume. About the Sumatra perfume you told me
was possessed alone by you. That was a lie, and you know it was a
lie."
"I--I--I don't know anything more about it," whimpered the secretary.
"Yes you do. Out with the truth," said Dan relentlessly, "if you don't
I shall drop you overboard to smash like an egg."
Penn clung to his seat desperately. "That would be murder."
"I daresay, but I shouldn't suffer. Accidents will happen in
aeroplanes you know. You are like Mahomet's coffin, slung between
heaven and earth, and overboard Mahomet's coffin will go in a few
minutes unless----" Dan swerved the machine which tilted slightly and
Penn went green with terror.
"What--what--what do you want to know?" he wailed, as the biplane
dipped nearly to earth, to sweep upward in a graceful curve.
"Who is Mrs. Jarsell?"
"I--oh, Lord--I don't know."
"You do. She has this perfume also. Has it anything to do with a
gang?"
"Yes, yes." Penn's teeth were chattering, and the sinking motion made
him sick.
"What has it to do with a gang?"
"It's--it's a--a sign."
"Was Sir Charles murdered by this gang?"
"I don't know--I don't know. Oh!" Penn screamed and clutched again at
the side of the car.
"You do. This false Mrs. Brown belonged to the gang."
"I can't say. I daren't tell you. If I say anything I shall die."
"You shall die if you don't say what I want you to say," said Dan
between his teeth, and again the machine dipped and towered. "I'll
tilt you out, I swear, if you don't tell me who murdered Sir Charles."
"I don't know, I tell you," cried Penn desperately, "the perfume has
to do with a society of people, who--who--but I daren't speak. I
should be killed. I have said too much as it is. And if you reveal
what I have said, you will be killed also."
"I don't care. Is Mrs. Jarsell connected with this gang?"
"I don't know Mrs. Jarsell," said Penn sullenly, although his
terrified face showed that he was nearly frightened out of his wits.
"Do you belong to this----" started Dan, when a sudden action of Penn
took him by surprise. In endeavoring to frighten the man he had flown
too low, and the aeroplane was only six feet off the ground, preparing
to swing skyward again. The secretary, in desperation, flung himself
sideways out of the machine, as it curved at the lowest and fell
heavily on the herbage of the Heath. Dan could not stop to see if he
was safe or hurt, but soared aloft again to a considerable height.
Circling widely he came sailing directly over the spot where the
secretary had tumbled out in his desperate endeavor to escape. Already
the man had picked himself up and was limping off toward the town as
quickly as he was able.
"Now," said Dan grimly to himself, "he will have me arrested for
attempted murder. That's all right," and he chuckled, although not
entirely successful in his endeavor to make Penn confess.