THE BATTLEPLANE'S OFFICIAL DEBUT
WITHOUT speaking a word Desmond Blake approached his prisoner and
regarded him intently. For a full minute he kept his eyes fixed upon
the German, who at first seemed indifferent to the attention paid
him.
Presently the spy began to shift uneasily under the searching
scrutiny. Try as he would to avoid the penetrating look he found
himself unable to withstand the seemingly mesmeric influence. His
whole attitude was that of a dog cowed solely by the severity of its
master's gaze.
"What is your name?" demanded Blake, breaking the strained silence.
"Sigismund Selighoffer," replied the spy in a strangely subdued
voice.
"A native of Germany?"
"Of Halle."
"A spy?"
"Yes." The answer was given with considerable hesitation. It was the
man speaking in spite of his inclination to maintain silence and
discretion.
"You stole my plans. Where are they?"
"It was my employer, Karl von Secker, who took the plans. We were
here last night. He went away yesterday, taking the plans with him;
but before he went he gave me orders to destroy this machine."
"You know where he is?"
"On my honour, no. He could not tell me. Perhaps he will make his way
back to Germany. It is easy for him to do so."
Blake asked several more questions, not once shifting his eyes from
the thoroughly cowed Hun.
"Very good," he concluded. "In a few hours' time you will be handed
over to the authorities for trial. If it be any satisfaction to you I
might add that you will be the first German--and I hope the last--to
set foot on this battleplane."
He turned and went for'ard. Directly his back was turned the spy
broke into a torrent of oaths, defying his captors and reviling
himself for having given away so much information.
Blake merely shrugged his shoulders.
"Simply the triumph of a strong mind over a weak one," he explained
to the lads. "Herr Selighoffer is merely a pawn in the game--a tool
of the more dangerous von Secker. Had we no other and more urgent
work in hand it would be a delightful task to run von Secker to
earth. Man-hunting is, from my personal knowledge, one of the
greatest thrills a criminologist can experience. Once I had to track
a Brazilian desperado across miles of country--but that story can
wait. We must trust the recovery of the plans to the authorities.
Now, lads, the pair of you had better turn in again. I'll keep watch,
although I don't anticipate any further trouble from prowling Huns.
It would be just as well to keep an eye upon that slippery customer,
Sigismund."
The rest of the night passed without interruption. At seven the lads
arose, bathed and had breakfast; by eight-thirty the battleplane was
ready for her flight to London.
"Better thirty minutes too early than thirty seconds too late,"
remarked Dick.
"H'm! perhaps in this case," rejoined Athol. "Do you remember that
morning in the trenches facing the Menin road? We were both a little
tardy in turning out to breakfast."
"And what happened?" asked Blake.
"Nothing as far as we were concerned," replied Dick. "Except that we
had no breakfast that morning. A shell had landed close to the stew
pot and the men with their rations were blown to bits. It was a case
of Nah Pooh with them."
Without a hitch the battleplane was brought from the hangar, her
wings extended and the motors set running. It had now ceased snowing,
and although the ground was still covered with a mantle of white,
there seemed every prospect of a fine day.
Making a splendid ascent the machine quickly attained an altitude of
twelve thousand feet, and a compass course was shaped to due east.
Blake had a definite object in flying high. The air was sufficiently
clear to distinguish prominent landmarks, but at that altitude there
was hardly any possibility of the battleplane being seen from the
earth. He wanted to make his arrival as dramatic and sudden as
possible.
"We're touching one hundred and eighty miles an hour now," announced
the inventor. "Could do another twenty with ease if we wished. We'll
romp there hands down."
"Why this easterly course?" asked Dick, who, having for the time
being finished with the motors, had taken his place close to the
pilot. "This will land us somewhere in Norfolk if we carry on."
"Only till we pick up the North-Western main line," replied Blake.
"There's nothing like a railway to help you to fix a position. In
conjunction with a good map a railway lets you know where you are
almost to a mile."
Forty-seven minutes from the time the battleplane left the ground a
dull haze upon the horizon indicated that the metropolis was in
sight. Quickly the intervening distance was covered, until at a
height of two thousand feet the airmen were immediately over the
Thames.
"Good enough!" declared Blake, at the same time locking the wings.
Although the motors were still running they were acting merely as
"free engines," ready to be coupled up to the wings in a case of
emergency. For the rest of the distance the battleplane was to glide
under the attraction of gravity.
Unerringly Blake brought the battleplane towards the gravelled
expanse of the Horse Guards Parade. Save for a few persons hurrying
across the place was almost deserted. Evidently there was no sign
that the aviators were expected. Either the telegram had been delayed
or the War Office officials had considered it a hoax.
Suddenly Blake coupled up the wing-mechanism. The beating of the
wings caused several of the pedestrians to look skywards. For a
second or so they seemed hardly able to credit their senses.
Aeroplanes they knew, but the huge mechanical bird astonished them.
Right and left they scattered, leaving the parade as deserted as a
Siberian plain.
Making a faultless landing the battleplane came to rest. Blake,
throwing back the wind screen, awaited developments.
In less than five minutes the machine was surrounded by thousands of
curious spectators. It took all the efforts of a strong force of
police and soldiers to keep the crowd back.
A way having been cleared through the press a group of military staff
officers came up. Amongst them Blake recognised a tall, alert figure
in the uniform of a major-general.
"Good morning, Sir Henry!" he exclaimed. "You see I have carried out
my promise. Come on board, if you please."
Agilely Sir Henry swarmed up the ladder.
"A top-hole fellow," said Blake to his companions during the
officer's progress. "One of the few who were at least sympathetic
when I first submitted my plans."
"By Jove, Blake!" exclaimed the newcomer, as, slightly breathless, he
gained the interior of the fuselage. "This is rather unexpected."
"I warned you," replied the inventor.
"You did, but, pardon my saying so, I was sceptical."
"But not to the extent of some of your colleagues," added Blake with
a tinge of irony. "However, that's done with. Here is the
battleplane. I formally offer her to the Government. But before we go
farther. Do you know that there is a German spy here--actually within
the precincts of the War Office?"
"Good heavens, no!" replied Sir Henry in astonishment. "How do you
know that?"
"Optical proof," replied Blake. "If you'll come aft I'll show you."
Briefly the circumstances under which Sigismund Selighoffer was
captured were stated, and in a very few minutes the spy was taken
from the battleplane and marched off under escort.
"Now as far as I am concerned I hope I'll hear no more about that
fellow," commented Blake. "My time is too precious to waste in
attending courts-martial. All the same I should be particularly
pleased to hear that von Secker, the spy's accomplice--or rather,
employer--is run to earth. These fellows pay considerably more
attention to outside inventions than does the British Government, I'm
sorry to say. But let me show you round. Oh, yes, there's room for a
few more," he added as three or four staff officers shouted out for
permission to come on board.
With them was one of the civil staff of the War Office. Blake eyed
him with a grim smile, for he was the man who had been so prominent
in cold-shouldering the inventor but a few months previously.
"Yes, we should like to witness a flight," replied Sir Henry in
answer to Blake's proposition. "This ability to ascend almost
perpendicularly must be a unique, I might say, rather ingenious
property. No, I don't think I will accompany you this trip... another
time, perhaps."
One by one the staff officers filed through the aperture in the floor
of the fuselage and descended to the ground, amidst the plaudits of
the crowd. The civilian official was the last to leave, when Blake
touched him on the shoulder.
"You remember me?" he asked.
"Of course, of course I do," replied the man pompously. "I never
forget faces. You will doubtless recollect that during our former
interview I expressed my opinion----"
"That an ounce of fact is worth a pound of theory," rejoined Blake.
"In the circumstances the remark was uncalled for."
"But in my position one has to look for results," stammered the man
nervously, for Blake had fixed him with that disconcerting look that
had so effectually cowed the spy.
"The result is here," declared the inventor. "You are now going to
accompany us for a spin. You are not afraid?"
If he were afraid the official was doubly afraid to admit it. He
nodded his head.
"Good!" exclaimed Blake approvingly, as he closed the hatchway at his
feet. "Start her up, Dick. Open the exhaust full out. A little noise
will shift the crowd."
Dick obeyed, using the "cut-out." Instead of the engines purring
almost noiselessly they roared like the concentrated discharge of a
battery of mitrailleuses. Then, with a mighty sweep of her wings the
battleplane appeared to stand on end. The next instant she was
soaring swiftly above the dirty grey stone work of the buildings of
the Horse Guards.
The passenger seated in the balanced chair, and seeing the body of
the machine turning apparently around a fixed axis, was too
astonished even to ejaculate. At length, encouraged by the cool
demeanour of Dick and his chum, the official plucked up courage, and,
the battleplane having settled down to a steady position, peered over
the edge of the coaming.
It was his first sight of London from a height of three thousand
feet. He was beginning to enjoy the sensation.
Up and down, describing erratic curves, nose-diving, volplaning and
side-slipping with deliberate intent, Desmond Blake carried out his
spectacular and demonstrative programme. At one moment it seemed as
if the battleplane was diving under the Admiralty Arch; at almost the
next it was skimming the aerials on the twin domes of the
headquarters of the British Navy. Spinning round, almost on the tip
of one wing, the tractable machine circled Nelson's Monument, as if
to pay homage to the memory of the one-armed little man whose
traditions the Navy of to-day so gallantly uphold. Then, at a rate
equal to double that of an express train, the battleplane disappeared
from view, to circle over the Nore at a height far beyond the range
of the most efficient anti-aircraft guns that the Medway Defences
possessed.
Fifteen minutes later the battleplane again came to rest on the Horse
Guards Parade. Her passenger, almost speechless with unbounded
admiration, did not hesitate to make his amends.
Nor was Sir Henry less enthusiastic.
Gripping Blake's hand as the inventor descended from the battleplane
he exclaimed, "Bravo! my dear sir; your aeroplane is simply great.
But why the deuce did you make such a show with it? By to-night all
the world will know about it."
Desmond Blake shrugged his shoulders.
"It was the only way," he replied. "Nothing else would have attracted
the attention of the War Office."
"You certainly have now," said Sir Henry with a smile. "Suppose we
adjourn to my office. I'll summon my colleagues and we can discuss
terms."
"There are no terms to discuss," objected the inventor. "The
battleplane belongs to the Empire unconditionally."