A KNIGHT OF THE AIR
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[Illustration: “Just when the pilot and Bennet had commenced to wind
down the balloon, a report from a gun was heard.”--Page 156.]
A KNIGHT OF THE AIR
Or, the Aerial Rivals
BY
HENRY COXWELL
AUTHOR OF ‘MY LIFE AND BALLOON EXPERIENCES’
LONDON
DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS
18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C.
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DIGBY, LONG & CO., Publishers, London.
THIS STORY
IS
=Dedicated=
BY PERMISSION
TO
SIR WILLIAM INGRAM, BART.
WHO HAS ALWAYS
EXHIBITED A DEEP INTEREST
ON PRACTICAL AERONAUTICS
_CONTENTS_
CHAPTER I
PAGE
Shadowed, 1
CHAPTER II
An Accident, 9
CHAPTER III
Messrs Goodall Brothers, 20
CHAPTER IV
An Appeal, 30
CHAPTER V
Scheming, 40
CHAPTER VI
Aeronautics, 56
CHAPTER VII
Finance and Finesse, 70
CHAPTER VIII
Mr Falcon on Flight, 86
CHAPTER XI
A Flighty Fiasco, 96
CHAPTER X
Captain Link’s Appearance, 106
CHAPTER XI
Remarkable Events, 120
CHAPTER XII
Unmasked, 136
CHAPTER XIII
The Mysterious Shot, 152
CHAPTER XIV
Surprising Disclosures, 168
CHAPTER XV
Wanted by Warner, 181
CHAPTER XVI
On the Track, 194
CHAPTER XVII
Alarming Incidents, 208
CHAPTER XVIII
Waiting for News, 222
CHAPTER IX
Up Aloft, 232
CHAPTER XX
The Fight in the Fog, 245
CHAPTER XXI
Reconciliation and Retrospection, 261
CHAPTER XXII
Tightening the Net, 268
CHAPTER XXIII
Decoyed, 278
CHAPTER XXIV
Disappearance and Reappearance, 293
CHAPTER XXV
Reunion and Happiness, 301
A KNIGHT OF THE AIR
CHAPTER I
SHADOWED!
Mr Harry Goodall, a young, tall and well-set-up gentleman, was walking
impatiently to and fro on the south side of Trafalgar Square, as if
he were awaiting the arrival of someone who had agreed to meet him.
The fact was, he was in a hurry to get to Sydenham, where he was
about to try a scientific experiment, and was momentarily expecting
a cab conveying a model apparatus which he was going to test. While
he was waiting, his attention was drawn to two men who, in crossing
the road, were nearly run over, and who, as soon as they caught sight
of Goodall, nudged one another and whispered for a moment, and then
disappeared behind one of the lions. Almost immediately the cab Goodall
was expecting drew up with a long, coffin-shaped box on the top, and,
at the same moment, the two men emerged from their hiding-place, and
passed Goodall as he stepped into the cab. He noticed this action, and,
for some undefined reason, he merely instructed the coachman to drive
over Westminster Bridge. The cab bore him swiftly away, but “More haste
less speed,” for, as they went down the incline on the Surrey side, the
horse slipped and fell. A crowd gathered, and Goodall alighted. As he
did so, he noticed a hansom pass him, in which were the same two men he
had observed watching him in Trafalgar Square. Shortly afterwards, the
cab horse was got up on to his legs again and the journey to Sydenham
was proceeded with, after the coachman had received definite orders as
to his destination.
As he drove along, it occurred to Goodall that he must be the object
of these two men’s attention. The question was, were they detectives
who had mistaken him for someone else, or were they spies put on by
his uncle, who was, he knew, most averse to the hobby of his life,
which, it may be said at once, was ballooning? However, he dismissed
the matter from his mind as the cab drew up at the workmen’s entrance
to the Crystal Palace, where he deposited the box with the officials
and then drove on to the central entrance, where he exchanged
civilities with the general manager, and with whom he chatted for a
short time in the transept as to what he proposed doing in the way
of experiments, and so on. Passing into the building, and wending
his way through the groups of refreshment tables, although his mind
was full of his project, he could not help noticing a party of people
seated at one of the tables. It consisted of a young lady and two
gentleman, while another person, as if an attendant on one of them,
stood in the background. The lady was remarkably pretty, and one of
her companions was an aristocratic-looking old gentleman--a country
squire in appearance--but the other, whose face Mr Goodall had seen
before, gave him a rude, fixed stare, and, as Goodall drew nearer, he
recognised him as one of the two men who had passed him in the hansom,
whilst the man in the background was his companion. Thinking that this
third _rencontre_ was, perhaps, after all, merely a coincidence, Mr
Goodall passed on through the door of the tropical department, and soon
afterwards entered a square, glass-built room of large dimensions,
which is situated beneath the lofty North Tower, and which had been
placed at Mr Goodall’s disposal to facilitate a series of aeronautical
experiments, but not in a public capacity, demonstrating his own
ideas on aeronautics, and which aimed at rescuing ballooning from the
imputation that its pursuit, which had become valuable for military
purposes, must necessarily be attended with continual risk, and with
those frequent fatalities which have cast a slur on its more recent
practice.
In Mr Goodall’s laboratory, or workroom, as he preferred to call it,
was a smart young fellow named Trigger, who acted as his assistant,
whilst two lady-like women, Mrs Chain and her daughter, were giving the
finishing touches to a superb silk balloon, work with which Goodall had
entrusted them out of compassion, being aware that they were in bad
circumstances through having been swindled by a fraudulent financier,
who had embezzled funds of theirs given him to invest.
“Good morning, Mrs Chain,” said Mr Goodall. “Did you ever see a more
glorious day? And you, Miss Chain, you wish me success to-day, I hope?”
“Why, of course, Mr Goodall. I was just saying to Lucy”--with a nod
over to a young woman, Tom Trigger’s sweetheart,--“that you seem as
fortunate as the Queen with respect to weather.”
In addition to the silk balloon, at which they were working there were
model machines in the workroom, together with a great mass of tackle,
all appertaining to the practice of ballooning. The special contrivance
that was to undergo a trial that day was a cone-pointed aerostat of
thirteen feet in length, by four feet in central diameter, which Mr
Goodall had brought with him in the cab. The amateur’s idea was to use
it somewhat like a keel or centre-board boat of novel shape, which
was to be driven by a screw propeller on the lake, so as to cause the
air-ship, while floating in its own element, some feet above the
aquatic contrivance, to deviate several points from the straight course
of the wind, as steering by the aid of water, in Mr Goodall’s opinion,
could be more easily managed than by steering solely in the air above.
Whilst this invention was being prepared for trial in the lower grounds
on the lake, the shadows of two outside visitors were cast on the
cotton screen which hung all round the workroom on the inside. As these
persons came nearer to the front window, their shadows became more
distinct, and they represented a tall man and a shorter person behind,
but the leading one was very inquisitive, peering about, trying his
level best to get a glimpse of what was going inside. Lucy, whose quick
eye was the first to detect the intruder, drew Mr Goodall’s attention
to him, when the aeronaut requested them to keep quiet while he had a
good look at the profile of the man, as if it struck him very forcibly
that it was one of the two who had been watching and following him in
London and in the palace.
The little man moved away, but his companion remained looking through
every nook and crevice to see who was inside. Miss Chain, who felt an
irrepressible desire to catch a glimpse of the intruder, took advantage
of a hole in the screen to satisfy her curiosity. She had no sooner
looked than she started back with a scream, and fell fainting into a
chair. The spy, hearing the cry, vanished immediately.
Miss Chain looked pale and frightened, but, with Lucy’s assistance, she
soon recovered herself.
Trigger wanted to open the door and go after the man, but his master
stopped him.
“You had better keep quiet,” said Mr Goodall, “as Miss Chain’s attack
may be, after all, only the result of close air and overwork. A walk
round the archery ground presently will do her all the good in the
world, and, meanwhile, we can go down to the lake to try my air-ship.”
Lucy, although glad to see her friend’s recovery, looked upon the
whole thing as a joke, and remarked as much, whereupon Mr Goodall, who
overheard her, agreed, and laughingly said,--
“A phantom figure has possibly appeared.”
“Pardon me,” said Miss Chain; “it was no phantom I saw, Mr Goodall, but
the figure of one who--”
“There now, don’t take on any more,” said Lucy, as she held the
smelling salts nearer to Miss Chain’s face, and, giving her a
significant nudge, silenced her.
“You will soon be all right,” said Mr Goodall, as he prepared to leave
with Trigger. “You must take a holiday this afternoon and get some
fresh air.”
When, however, the aeronaut and his assistant had left, poor Miss
Chain cast a scared look at the screen and, turning to Lucy, said,--
“Holiday, indeed! This is the worst thing that has happened since I
left Boulogne. I will tell you more of what I mean when we are in the
open air. If I could only meet him face to face, Lucy, instead of only
seeing his shadow!”
“No doubt you would let him have it hot,” replied Lucy, in her honest,
blunt way; “but, as it is only a vision, you had better keep quiet
until he does show up, and then if he opens his mouth and has anything
to say worth hearing, I will chime in and help you.”
“Do you think, Lucy, that creature is prowling about without a fixed
object? He must have heard that I am here. And wasn’t there another man
with him just before I fainted?”
“There, goodness me, Miss Chain, don’t carry on in that way; let us go
out and look at the flowers. Remember that I shall soon have to leave
you for my new situation in the country, but I hope that you will come
and see me in Sussex. Tom says it is at a fine park.”
“I wish I could go too, Lucy.”
“Who knows? The lady might want a companion some day. Come along,
you’ll soon be better.”
“Not if I am worried again in this way by a would-be gentleman, who
has now seen me working for my daily bread through his dishonesty. But
here comes my mother. I am so glad, Lucy, that she went out before he
appeared. Don’t say anything about it to her at present.”
“Never fear, Miss Chain, for I begin to see what you mean, though I
didn’t at first, that you may have really seen that man who tricked you
and your mother at Boulogne in the shameful way you told me about.”
“Hush! Let us drop the subject for to-day.”