THE FLIGHT
"Poison!" echoed Dan, startled out of his composure, for he was far
from expecting such a word, "the doctor----"
"No doctor can do me any good," sobbed Curberry, lifting his haggard
face, and looking up with wild, despairing eyes, "there is no antidote
to this drug I have taken. It is painless, more or less, and in an
hour I shall be dead, as it works but slowly. Time enough for me to
speak."
"Let me get a doctor," insisted Halliday, for so distraught did the
man look that he was not surprised that the servant had been
uncomfortable, "you must not die without----"
Curberry struggled to his feet, and laid hands on his visitor. "No,
no! I am ready to die," he said in a harsh, strained voice, "why
should I be kept alive to be hanged--to be disgraced--to be----"
"Then you admit----"
"I admit everything in this--this," he touched a few loose sheets of
paper lying on the desk, "this confession. Like Penn, I have made
one."
"You must have a doctor," said Halliday, and ran to the bell.
Curberry, with a wonderful strength, seeing how ill he looked, rose
swiftly, and sprang after him. "If you call a doctor I shall shoot
myself," he said, hoarsely, and pulled out a small revolver. "I would
rather die by means of the poison I have taken, since it is more
painless. But, sooner than be taken by the police, I shall shoot
myself--and you, too--and you, too."
Halliday waived aside this threat. "You won't see the police----"
"The doctor would try to save me," insisted Curberry, fiercely, "and I
will not be saved only to be hanged. Stay here and listen to me. I
have something to say. Touch the button of the bell and I shoot!" As
he spoke he levelled the revolver. "Quick, quick, what will you do?"
"Have your own way," agreed Halliday, and moved to the desk, where he
sat down on a convenient chair. Curberry, with a groan, returned to
his seat, and laid the revolver on the blotting paper, ready for
instant use should necessity arise. Even as yet he did not wholly
trust Halliday.
And there was cause for his suspicion. Since Dan was unarmed, he could
do nothing against a man with a quick-firing weapon, but he made up
his mind to snatch at the revolver the moment Curberry was off his
guard. Yet, even as he decided upon this course, he said to himself
that it was foolish. The man's recovery, supposing a doctor did
arrive, meant the man's arrest, and, in Dan's opinion, as in
Curberry's, death was better than disgrace. It was a most
uncomfortable situation, but Halliday did not see anything to do but
to listen to what his host had to say. The poor wretch had poisoned
himself, and was keeping all help at bay with his revolver. He would
be dead in an hour, or half an hour, as he hinted, so the best thing
was to hear his story in the hope that by its means those who had
brought him to this pass could be punished. But it was a weird
experience to sit beside a tormented man, who declined to be saved
from a tragic death.
"Did Queen Beelzebub give you the poison?" asked Halliday, shivering
at the gray pinched look on Curberry's face.
"Long ago; long ago; not now," muttered the man, groaning. "Every
member of the Society of Flies has this poison to escape arrest,
should there be danger. It is a painless poison, more or less, and
acts slowly, and--but I have told you all this before. There is not
much time," he pressed his hands on his heart, "while I retain my
strength and my senses, listen!"
"But where is this woman you call Queen Beelzebub," demanded Dan,
looking round anxiously. "I saw her arrive in an aeroplane."
"She did; she came to tell me that you knew all about our society."
"You belong to it?"
"Yes, curse it, and those who dragged me into the matter. I was
getting on all right in the law, when I was tempted and fell."
"Your uncle and your cousin----"
"Yes, yes!" broke in Curberry, with another groan, "she said that if I
joined the society, they could be got rid of. They were got rid of
because I wished for the title and the money."
"But for what reason?"
"So that I could marry Lillian. Moon refused to listen to me so long
as I was merely a struggling barrister. But, when I became wealthy
and--and--oh, this pain. The poison is a lie like all the rest of the
business."
"She declared it was painless, and now--and now----" he broke off, to
wipe the perspiration from his face.
Dan half rose. "Let me call assistance. It may not be too late----"
Curberry pointed his revolver at him as he moved.
"It _is_ too late," he said, setting his teeth, "if I do not die, I
must face the worst. You--you have brought me to this."
"I!" echoed Halliday, sitting down again, "in what way?"
"You meddled and meddled, and--and you sent that telegram."
"I did not."
"Then your meddling has brought the police into the matter. That
telegram may have been sent by a friend or an enemy; in either case it
is true, for all is discovered. I was----" Curberry gasped with pain
again, and moistened his dry lips. "I was sitting with it, wondering
if it was best to end things or to wait and see if the warning was a
true one. Then she came in through yonder door," he nodded towards the
entrance from the terrace into the library. "She told me that
you--that you--oh--oh!" he groaned, and rocked himself from side to
side, yet kept a grip on the revolver, lest Dan should call or ring
for assistance, or endeavor to secure the weapon.
"So you took the poison?" said Halliday, wondering how he could manage
to evade being shot and summon a doctor.
"When she said that all was known, I did. Then she--she----"
"Queen Beelzebub you mean?"
"Curse her, yes. Like Eve, she tempted me, and, like Adam, I fell."
"Where is she?"
"Up in Penn's old rooms, searching for any further confession he may
have left. Oh," Curberry rocked and moaned, "I thought when I snatched
it from you, and burnt it, that all evidence was destroyed."
"I saved a few sheets."
"Do they contain mention of my name?"
"Yes; they do, and----"
"I thought so. I thought so. It's just as well that I took poison. The
title and money I paid such a price to obtain will go to my cousin,
who is at Oxford--a young fool with no brains. Oh, to lose all when
everything was so bright. I could have married Lillian and served my
country, and----"
"You could not have married Lillian," interrupted Dan, positively,
"for she loves me and me only. As to serving your country, how could
you, with an easy conscience, when you have broken its law by taking
the lives of your uncle and cousin?"
"I did not. The society saw to that," gasped Curberry with a twisted
grin.
"You engaged the society to end their lives, you--you--murderer."
"Don't call names," moaned the man, "at least I have not murdered you,
although I have every reason to. You meddled with matters which do not
concern you."
"I meddled in matters which concern every honest man who loves law and
order, Lord Curberry," said Dan, sternly, "apart from the death of Sir
Charles Moon, which I was bound to avenge for Lillian's sake, it was
my duty to stop this wholesale murder. Perhaps you had Moon killed
yourself."
"I didn't; I didn't. It was to my interest that he should live, for if
he had I should have been married to his daughter by this time. Queen
Beelzebub murdered him because he was offered a chance of belonging to
the society and refused."
"In that," said Dan, sternly, "acting as an honest man."
"He acted as a foolish man. For, learning too much, he sent for Durwin
to reveal what he knew. Penn found out his intended treachery, and
told the Queen. She came--you saw her when she came--and she killed
him."
"She killed Durwin?"
"Yes," gasped Curberry, who was growing whiter and more haggard every
moment.
"And Marcus Penn?"
"I killed him. I had to, or be killed myself. He betrayed too much to
you."
"Only out of fear," said Dan, looking at the murderer more with pity
than with anger, for he was suffering greatly.
"Not even fear should have made him reveal anything about the scent.
He confessed his folly and was doomed to death. I went away on that
day, and then came back secretly, having ordered Penn to meet me by
the ornamental water, to speak about the society. He suspected
something, because he wrote that confession and let Lillian know where
it was concealed. But he came, and I managed to stupefy him with the
Sumatra scent, after which I thrust him under water, and, when I was
sure he was dead, I got away secretly, returning openly to hear that
his body had been found."
"You wicked wretch," said Dan, scarcely able to restrain his disgust,
although he felt he should not be too hard on one already being
severely punished for his crimes.
"Don't call names," said Curberry, with an attempt at a laugh, "after
all, I am better than you think, since I am trying to save you. I want
you to live and marry Lillian, and keep this confession," he laid his
hands on the loose sheets of paper "from Queen Beelzebub, so that you
can put an end to her wicked doings. Hide the papers when she comes
back, or she will destroy them."
As this was very probable, Dan stretched out his hand for the papers.
Curberry feverishly gathered them together, speaking in a halting
manner, as he did so. "Wait till I put them together," he said,
painfully, "this is a full account of my connection with the society
and its evil doings. It accounts for the death of Moon, of Durwin, of
Penn, and of myself. But, take care, Halliday, for Queen Beelzebub
will not give in without a fight."
"She can do nothing," said Dan, watching Curberry pinning the loose
papers together. "Laurance has what remains of Penn's confession, and
will inform the police shortly. If you would let me get a doctor."
"No, no, no! I refuse to live and face the reward of my wickedness. I
prefer to pay the cost of my folly in joining the society. My name is
disgraced, but I won't be on earth to suffer for the disgrace. That
brainless young fool who succeeds me will not trouble you so long as
he gets the money and the title, which he is certain to. But marry
Lillian, and take care of her. Queen Beelzebub will strike at you
through her."
"She dare not while I hold the confession of Penn," said Dan, grimly,
"sooner or later she shall stand in the dock."
"That she never will, believe me. She has a means of escape if the
worst comes to the worst. Oh," Curberry half rose, and then fell
back in his chair, "the end is coming; my eyes are growing dim,
and--and--ah," he uttered a shriek, "save yourself!" and, with a
shaking hand, he grasped the revolver.
As Curberry's eyes were looking past him, Dan, with the subconscious
instinct of self-preservation, had just time to rise and swerve to one
side, when a hand grazed his shoulder. The young man gripped his
chair, and swung it up as a barrier between himself and a stout woman,
who was immediately behind him. She was dressed in a long, black
cloak, with a close-fitting cloth cap, and wore a heavy veil of the
motor style, with pieces of mica let in as eyeholes. Not a word did
she say, but, seeing Dan's action, drew back with a deep, indrawn
breath like the hiss of a baffled snake.
"Take care; take care; she has--the serpent poison," gasped Curberry,
who was sitting loosely in his chair, gripping his revolver.
Halliday remembered the wicked wound on Sir Charles Moon's neck, and
his flesh grew cold, for the slightest touch of that morsel of shining
steel in Queen Beelzebub's hand meant swift death. "You fiend!" he
shouted, and, with a cry of anger, flung the heavy chair fairly at
her.
With the leap of a pantheress, she sprang to one side, and the chair
crashed against the opposite wall, while the woman glided rapidly
round to the open door of the terrace. A shot rang out as she reached
it, and Dan knew that the dying man had fired on his enemy. Apparently
the bullet did not reach its mark, for Queen Beelzebub still moved on,
silent, sinister, and dangerous. Halliday flung himself forward to get
between her and the door, so as to prevent her escape, but with a
faint snarl like a beast at bay she stabbed at him with the
death-tip's piece of steel. He leaped back to save himself from being
scratched, while Curberry dragged himself painfully to the bell-button
near the fire-place, and pressed it with his remaining strength.
"I'm done for--call the police. You--you, oh!" He fell prone on the
hearth-rug, and the revolver dropped beside him.
Halliday ran forward on the impulse of the moment to offer aid,
hastily picking up the weapon meanwhile, and as he did so, Queen
Beelzebub sprang through the door into the open. "She's making for the
aeroplane," cried Dan, and would have followed on the instant, but
that Curberry gripped him fast.
"Stay, stay! A priest; a clergyman. I'm dying," and a deadly fear
became apparent in his glazed eyes, "get a--a--a help!"
As he cried, retaining Dan's coat in a grip of iron, the door of the
room opened, and the butler with the footman beside him rushed in. The
shot, as well as the ringing of the bell, had brought them immediately
to the spot. Trying to disengage himself, Dan gave hasty orders. "Send
for a doctor; send for a clergyman; send for the police. That woman
has murdered your master."
"Catch her; stop her--oh--oh!" Curberry's grip loosened, and he rolled
over with a moan. Whether he was dead or alive, Dan did not wait to
see. Every moment was precious, if he intended to stay the flight of
Queen Beelzebub. The terrified men came to assist their dying master,
and more servants, attracted by the noise, poured in at the library
door. A backward glance showed Dan that Curberry was being attended
to, and then he sped along the terrace towards the lawn at the side of
the house. Here he arrived, just a moment too late, for already the
aeroplane was spinning along the turf, with Queen Beelzebub in the
pilot's seat. Like the wicked fairy of nursery tale, she was escaping
in her dragon-car, and even in that hour of success she did not utter
a sound. Silent and menacing she mounted into the air, and Halliday
dashed forward with a cry of rage as she lifted above his reach.
There was not a moment to be lost, and without another glance, he
raced down the avenue, and made for the entrance gates. Queen
Beelzebub might make for her lair in Hillshire, or it might be that
she would cross the Channel to seek safety on the Continent; but,
wherever she went, Dan intended to follow. She would not escape him
this time, and he flew like an arrow from the bow across from the open
space outside the park, to where his man still stood guard by his own
machine. The little crowd around had their faces turned heavenward,
and were shouting at the sight of the biplane, now dwindling to a
black dot, as it receded swiftly from Blackheath. Dan felt a throb of
satisfaction as he saw that Queen Beelzebub was making for the north.
"Out of the way; out of the way," gasped the young man, charging
through the throng, and it scattered at his approach, "let her go, let
her go!" and he sprang into the pilot's seat to start the engine.
Immediately the screw began to spin, slowly at first, but gathering in
speed every second. The aeroplane moved, and ran with bird-like
swiftness along the ground, then soared with the hum of a giant bee.
Halliday swept in a vast circle, like an actor taking the stage, then
turned the nose of his machine in the direction of the black dot. This
was to be his pole-star towards which he was to continually direct his
course, until the goal, wherever it might be, was attained. The many
men, women and children standing round the Blackheath shed shouted and
cheered, thinking that they were witnessing the start of an exciting
race; but they little knew that it was a chase dealing with the
serious issues of life and death. Halliday heard the thin sound of
their voices reach him faintly, then settled down to handle his
biplane in a masterly manner. Since both aeroplanes were made by
Vincent, it was probable that both were equal in durability and speed.
But Queen Beelzebub had gained a very fair start, and Dan knew that it
would require all his knowledge of aviation to catch her up. Her
escape or capture depended entirely upon the dexterity with which he
man[oe]uvered the delicate structure which bore him. On her part, the
woman would use all her knowledge to get away safely, but Dan did not
believe that her capability as an aeronaut was equal to his own. In
this contest it was science against despair, and given the machines as
equal, yet the pilots as unequal, it was hard to say what would be the
result. Halliday, racing to save Lillian's life, and to gain her as
his wife, believed that the final victory would remain with him.
It was an unusually pleasant day, with a pale blue sky, lightly
sprinkled with feathery white clouds. A gentle wind was blowing, which
was not sufficiently strong to impede the speed of the aeroplanes. Yet
it was chilly in these high altitudes, and in his haste Dan had not
put on his overcoat. Before the end of the chase he grimly expected to
be well-nigh frozen, but did not mind so uncomfortable a prospect so
long as he gained his aim. Before him fled the woman he was determined
to capture and place in the criminal dock to answer for her manifold
sins. Thinking of what she had done, and how her path was strewn with
victims, the young man set his teeth and tried his best to force the
pace. But this was useless, as the biplane could not do more than it
was intended to do. Although he had now been racing northward for over
an hour, the distance between pursuer and pursued appeared to be much
the same, and the receding black dot did not seem to be growing
larger. Dan was irritated, yet felt that even though he was not
gaining, he was not losing, and that was much, taking all things into
account. There was always the chance that Queen Beelzebub's machine
might break down, and then she would be as helpless as a bird
with a broken wing. Also--and Dan did not blind himself to this
possibility--his own aeroplane might come to grief, as it had done
during the London to York race. But, benefiting by his former
experience, he did not try any fancy-flying, and held to a straight
undeviating course. Both machines were making a bee-line for the goal,
which Halliday now guessed very plainly was The Grange in Sheepeak,
Hillshire.
It had been about two o'clock when the chase started, but already
those taking part in it were miles upon miles distant from London,
since the aeroplanes were flying at the rate of between fifty and
sixty miles an hour. Harrow, St. Albans, Luton, Bedford and
Northampton had long since dropped behind, and Queen Beelzebub,
swerving to the left, was making for Rugby, so as to get into the
straight line for Hillshire, and particularly for Thawley. Passing
over the famous school-town the pace slackened somewhat, and Dan
managed to secure the advantage of a few miles. But when her machine
lifted Birmingham, she increased her speed, a fact which made Dan
curse. He had been under the impression that she was running short of
oil and petroleum, but apparently this was not the case. She had
simply reduced her speed so as to nurse her resources, since she could
take this bold step because of the start she had gained at the outset.
Halliday grudgingly confessed to himself that the woman, knew her
business, as she wasted no time. Her machine neither rose nor fell,
nor deviated to right or left overmuch, and all she did was to hold to
a straight line at a moderate height above the earth, humoring her
engine, and straining as little as might be the wings, spars, bolts,
and such-like gear of the biplane. Vincent had taught her admirably,
and Dan no longer undervalued her as an antagonist. She was dexterous,
bold, resourceful, and venturesome. His admiration, now freely given,
was mixed with pity that so clever a human being should debase her
gifts to harry mankind. Such qualities as she possessed made her more
dangerous, as she was an intellectual animal, slaying with taught
skill rather than with instinctive cunning.
As the afternoon drew on, and the chase still continued, the night
began to shut down. Gliding over Derby the town was veiled in the gray
mists of swiftly-falling dusk, and when Nottingham came in sight it
was distinguished by a thousand glittering pin-points of light, the
usual nightly illumination. Matlock, and Mansfield, Holdbrook and
Wayleigh, gleamed beneath like jewelled crowns, and when the stars
began to appear the aeroplanes were flying between two firmaments,
radiant with multi-colored orbs of light.
At last Thawley rose into view burning like a furnace under its veil
of smoke and the dim shroudings of twilight, while a vague murmur like
the swarming of bees came muffled to the ears of those who drove the
machines. Yet at these heights the coming dark was not yet very
intense, and Queen Beelzebub's aeroplane, beginning to slacken speed,
Dan was able to keep it well in view. He saw it rather vaguely closer
at hand, a shadow against the shadow of the gray sky. Minute by minute
he drew nearer and began to discern the outlines more or less clearly.
But it must be admitted that at the best the clearness was not quite
that which deserved the use of such a word. However, Dan, cold,
hungry, and weary with the strain on his nerves, could think of none
better at the moment.
Queen Beelzebub was decidedly losing speed. Her machine seemed to
falter after it left Thawley, as if it was doubtful how to find its
way home in this world of shadows. But at Beswick the woman made a
last effort, as it seemed, like a wounded animal dragging itself
faster homeward as it neared its den, and her aeroplane towered aloft
to the vast tableland of the moors. Halliday was close behind, and
when they hovered over Sheepeak the two biplanes were only a stone
throw from one another. He exulted, for now he had driven the woman to
her citadel, and for her there was no escape even by her machine, as
that was--so to speak--worn out. She was at her last gasp, and would
have to fight or yield. She elected to fight when the airships swung
in the foggy air over the fields near The Grange. If she alighted,
Queen Beelzebub knew that her pursuer would alight also and capture
her, so she described a rapid circle with what motive power was left
her, and plunged downward on her enemy to ram his machine.
Dan saw the movement, and with his hand on the steering gear, swerved
to one side, dropping lower as he did so. The other machine swooped
harmlessly overhead, but, recovering quickly, once more came down with
the dip of a hawk on a heron. Halliday dodged again, then thinking
that two could play at the dangerous game, he watched his chance and
rushed straightly at his prey. Queen Beelzebub saw him coming, and
adopted his tactics--that is, she dropped below his onset, and Dan's
aeroplane swept on without result. Once more he came down to her
level, and by this time the machines were only twenty feet from the
ground. This time, as he dashed forward, the woman was not dexterous
enough to get out of the way, and the two clashed violently with a
ripping, breaking, smashing sound. With the engines still spinning,
but with broken wings, the biplanes dropped to the earth, tangled
together, Dan's uppermost, clutching at its prey, so to speak, like a
hawk clutching a partridge. Down they came, and the rising earth met
them with a smashing blow.
Halliday was shaken, but did not become unconscious. Clearing his feet
and arms from the tangle of ropes and canvas, he emerged from the
confused heap, and dragged out the woman by her dress, which fluttered
out from the wreckage. To tear off her veil and light a match took a
single minute.
"Miss Armour!" cried Dan, greatly amazed. And Miss Armour it was,
quite senseless.