UNMASKED
The secret thoughts of Harry Goodall, Captain Link and Miss Chain,
whilst at dinner, were of a varied character. The aeronaut’s were
of a surprised and bewildered kind, his friend Link’s of a cheerful
description, and Miss Chain’s of a mixed and somewhat melancholy
order, for she felt sorry for her employer, who had been suddenly
and unexpectedly thrown among people whom he had been studiously
neglecting, and who would not probably be so genial had they known
who he was. Miss Chain was hopeful, however, that Miss Dove would
dispel the aeronaut’s reserve, for she was trying to make him feel
at home, and was unquestionably proving attractive to him. Even the
squire thought that he had never seen his daughter so animated and
captivating before. Captain Link was sure that Harry’s visit could not
possibly have a bad effect, for his excellent qualities would soon be
appreciated; nor was he slow to perceive that, if the Doves’ expected
friend turned out to be Falcon, the man whom he had seen that morning
with his confederate Croft, it would prove to be no ill wind that had
blown them to Wedwell Park, so that the captain inwardly exulted in the
idea that their rather risky cruise would turn out to be the luckiest
he had ever made, as Mr William Goodall had assured him that, if he
could only persuade his nephew to go to Wedwell either by rail or road,
he would be booked for promotion, though of course, it never entered
the merchant’s mind that Harry would ever present himself there in his
balloon, much less that he would do so in Captain Link’s company, who
had been afraid of their hovering over Essex, and had very likely been
the cause of the balloon wandering into Sussex, and which by a fluke
dropped among the Doves of Wedwell Park.
Miss Dove, meanwhile, seemed to be more and more taken with the
aeronaut’s unpretending manners, and to be listening intently to his
excellent conversation.
Captain Link, who was delighted with Miss Chain’s intelligent remarks
and lady-like manners, knew that, but for the fortunate circumstance
of having been introduced to her by Goodall, he would not have been
where he was, so that he had to hide his good spirits lest they should
present too great a contrast to his friend’s somewhat depressed manner,
which had been noticed by the squire, so he ordered the servant to
replenish the gentleman’s wine glass by way of cheering up the man
of science; and the host, moreover, asked for his opinion as to the
wonderful statements which had recently appeared as to “Flying being
made Easy” and “Aerial Navies grappling in the Central Blue.”
Thus challenged, the aeronaut’s eyes brightened considerably; he
seemed, however, as if he were reluctant to give full play to what he
really thought, though it was clear that he had sentiments of his own
which he was capable of imparting if he were so disposed.
The squire’s daughter seeing this, and being determined to draw him out
if possible, said,--
“I hope the day will never come when the anarchists will use these
scientific appliances to pour down upon the people’s heads tons of fire
and flame in the dreadful way we have read about.”
“Indeed,” said the aeronaut, “I think it much more probable that the
constituted authorities may turn upon the heads of the anarchists some
kind of check in that form--that is, if ever they combine in such an
immense array that the latest types of guns cannot disperse them, as
Maxim’s guns did the hordes of Matabeleland.”
“What do you say to that, sir?” asked the squire of his nautical
visitor.
“I quite agree with the aeronaut,” replied the mariner; “and I may
mention,” continued he, “that balloons, and parachutes as well, have
only recently been proposed for use by my friend to illustrate how
applicable they are for such purposes in proper hands, and he has shown
that they can be advantageously employed without waiting for the aid
of flying machines and directable aerostats, which have been so long
promised, and yet I doubt, if the sum of £10,000 were offered to any
man who could unmistakably demonstrate ‘flight’ before a committee of
reliable men, that there would be found anyone able to entitle himself
to it!”
“Yes,” said the squire, “that would be a fair enough way of settling
these pretensions.”
“But don’t you believe, Miss Dove,” added the aeronaut, “that the
continental military balloonists can direct their air ships so that
those anarchical foreigners can bombard our coasts, cities and towns
with dynamite in the way they propose?”
“You do not think, then, that flying is to be so easily accomplished?”
“Not just yet. Futile attempts may be made, and many narrow escapes
recorded.”
“But couldn’t aerial navies from the Continent come to our shores?”
“Of course they can, but not by the novel style of flying which is
talked about. No, Miss Dove, if men or machines can fly, the inventors
of them need not wait for war to make their fortunes. Merchants and
capitalists would find it to their advantage to handsomely remunerate
such persons to use their wings for mercantile and other purposes--of
course men will embark in Quixotic performances.”
“But if they do not succeed,” said the squire, “it must heavily
handicap and tax poor inventors to pay for their schemes.”
“Yes, indeed, they always did pay for them; but I daresay you are
aware, squire, that syndicates and benevolent capitalists might be
found to assist bold and incautious financiers to float them.”
“What do you say, my dear sir?” asked the squire. “You are
awakening--that is, enlightening us surprisingly; but do let us fill up
our glasses--one almost requires a stimulant to face even the thought
of what may be going on in these times. I only heard yesterday of a
suicidal attempt at flying that came off at Haywards Heath by some
foreigners.”
“Then,” said Edith Dove, “you do not believe in all these wonderful
modern experiments?”
“Not in some of them. A few scientific inventors of recent date may be
sanguine, clever and well-intentioned men, but not all of them, I fear.”
“How pleased, Edith,” said her father, “Mr Falcon would be to take part
in these discussions. What a pity he is not here!”
“The doctor thought he might arrive later, papa, and so he may be here
yet.”
“Our friend Falcon,” said the squire, “has been a great traveller, and
represents a firm of shipowners in London and Sydney.”
Fortunately, the squire did not observe that his reference to Mr Falcon
fell like a bomb-shell among his guests, who controlled, as far as
possible, any outward indication of their feelings, though they knew
who was meant by the squire in his last utterance, and as the aeronaut
had been looking at Falcon’s photo on the wall, he was not in reality
so much taken by surprise as were Miss Chain and Captain Link.
“These gentlemen may possibly have met Mr Falcon, Edith,” said the
squire.
“May I ask if that is his portrait?” asked the aeronaut of Miss Dove,
pointing to the photo on the wall.
“Yes! you have been studying the face, haven’t you?”
“I know the face, but I am not very familiar with the name,” replied
the aeronaut.
“I should think, Edith, that this gentleman,” turning to the mariner,
“is the more likely to know Mr Falcon,” said her father.
“I certainly know a Mr Falcon,” replied the captain, “and I’ll have a
look at his likeness presently.”
“And the young lady,” said Miss Dove, “is she at all acquainted with
him?”
“I have seen the shadow of _a_ Mr Falcon, but the person I have such
vivid recollections of was named, I think, Filcher Falcon, and may, or
may not, be the same man,” replied Miss Chain.
“Did you mind the name Filcher, Edith?” asked the squire. “We may,
after all,” he continued, “be alluding to two distinct persons.”
At this point, Miss Dove gave her father a look which he appeared to
understand, for the financier was not, for a time, further mentioned.
Poor Miss Chain had not yet seen whether the likeness on the wall, and
the “shadow man” represented one and the same person, but she strongly
suspected that it was so, though she and the captain suppressed their
curiosity for a while, but they had their misgivings; and as to the
squire and his daughter, they both saw that they had been treading upon
dangerous ground, and that the mystery could not very well be cleared
up just then, so by way of changing the subject, Squire Dove asked the
aeronaut if he intended dropping in Wedwell Park.
“I am afraid I came to you, more from necessity than desire,” was
the candid reply. “We were advancing towards the sea, after having
journeyed by a strong upper current over the clouds from Essex, when
your property, squire, was found to be the most suitable and tempting
spot on which to alight.”
“Then what induced you to hesitate, if I may take the liberty of
asking, before you at length condescended to drop among us?”
“We were divided in opinion as to the advisability of coming down; but
your persuasive invitation, coupled with Miss Dove’s appeal, decided
me to do so, though I certainly doubted whether ballooning would be
acceptable to you.”
“I hope,” said Miss Dove, “that Doctor Peters’s rude remark did not
give offence.”
“I hope not,” added the squire. “He is an obstinate man, but I was not
aware that he felt a prejudice against aerial research.”
“It may be,” said the aeronaut, “that he is in the confidence of the
gentleman whose photo faces me.”
“Umph!” thought the captain, “Harry is fizzing like a bottle of
champagne in his balloon car.”
“Yes,” replied the squire, “Doctor Peters and our expected visitor may
or may not entertain similar views, but I never heard them allude to
aerostatics or balloonists.”
“No doubt, papa,” said Miss Dove, “that this pleasant and instructive
visit will enlighten us a good deal.”
“I do believe it will, my dear,” said her father, thoughtfully.
“I wish,” said Miss Dove, “that we could address our friends by their
names. May we, however,” turning towards the mariner, “venture to beg
of the--captain, to tell us how he and the lady liked their voyage?”
Captain Link having bowed in recognition of Miss Dove’s guess as to
his rank proceeded to state that, although he had often crossed the
Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, besides having been round the world more
than once, yet he had not, until that day, ever been up in a balloon,
nor had the young lady, whose acquaintance he had but recently made
in a most romantic manner, in fact, they were both much indebted to
the aeronaut for their first aerial journey, but seeing the aeronaut
frowning at this injudicious communication, he must beg to be excused
from saying anything further.
“Oh, no,” cried Miss Dove, “that is too bad, captain--why, your story
was just becoming so interesting.”
“Indeed, you will vastly disappoint us, captain, unless you proceed,”
said the squire. “We are on the tiptoe of expectation to profit by
every word that either of you might utter.”
“Besides, we may never have another chance, papa!” said Miss Dove,
anxiously.
“No, indeed, for such visits may be, like angels’, few and far between,
so you _must finish up_, captain,” cried the squire, “for I tell you
candidly that we are already under a spell. All that you say leads us
to regard you as aerial messengers with the best of intentions, telling
us something for our good. I beg of you to continue.”
“Well, then, if I must do so, I may as well tell you that this young
lady had been acquainted with a gentleman who was not of the ancient
knightly order; on the contrary, he had been most heartless, unfair
and cruel to her, so that, when my friend there told me of the way
the said gentleman had behaved, I felt as if I should like to take
up the cudgels for the injured one, and while thinking so, he most
unexpectedly turned up but made off immediately afterwards, and well
he did so, for an officious detective was after him. Now, would you
believe it, not so many hours ago, this so-called astute officer
suddenly attempted to arrest me, believing that I was this suspected
person--whose name I need not mention.”
“Are you listening, Edith? Pay attention. There might have been some
personal resemblance. The captain admits that,” said Squire Dove.
“I am so intent, papa, on what the captain is telling us, that I can
barely answer. I have not lost a word; but,” she added turning to the
captain, “do please go on, your experience is so very interesting.”
“The detective soon found out his mistake and was taken to task about
it. It was an amusing scene,” continued the captain, “for I was on
the point of figuring as a belligerent, but my friend stopped me from
committing myself.”
“Was it not that honest policeman, captain, who did so?” interrupted
the aeronaut.
“So it was; he acted a good part, and will be a great man some day.”
“What was his name?” asked the squire.
“We must not tell names, according to our agreement,” said the captain,
laughingly.
“How trying!” said the squire.
“Oh, you might just tell us the policeman’s name and the locality,”
said Miss Dove, persuasively, and the captain was half-inclined to do
so, when a servant knocked at the door and handed a note to Miss Dove.
“Won’t it be as well,” said the squire, taking out his watch, “to
go and see about a captive ascent? You must not think of leaving
us to-night, friends, for, to be candid with you, neither I nor my
daughter can rest until we know more of you, and hear the sequel to
your adventure.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Dove, “we can now very easily understand why
you didn’t wish names to be known.”
“We will talk that over after the ascents,” said the squire. “I daresay
my gamekeeper, who is outside, wants to know if we are ready to ascend.
Miss Dove will take your lady friend upstairs; but, dear me, she is
looking at the photograph of Mr Falcon, and has turned quite pale. Do
take her to your room, Edith, and don’t forget to give orders about the
other rooms for our friends. And now, gentlemen,” added the squire, “do
be seated for five minutes and taste my port wine. Here’s health and
long life to you both. Ah! I’m truly glad to find that we are brothers
in a masonic sense. It strikes me that I shall know your names before
long, and those other two names as well. I mean of the unprincipled
gentleman and the able policeman.”
“We shall feel bound to let you know them before we separate,” said the
aeronaut.
“I have just been thinking,” observed Squire Dove, “that there
is something very remarkable in your having all identified the
photographic likeness on the wall. Three to one is long odds. I
suppose, if Mr Falcon should come in, you will have no objection to
meeting him?”
“I should not,” said the aeronaut.
“Nor I,” added the captain, “if I am not again mistaken for him by a
detective as I was this morning.”
“You are letting the cat out of the bag now, captain,” said the squire.
“But really I thought you were alluding to our Mr Falcon in your
humorous story, that is to say if you were not indulging in fiction.”
“What I said was all literally true, squire.”
“I can answer for that,” added the aeronaut.
“You amaze me completely,” cried the squire; “but would you, if Mr
Falcon should turn up outside or here, tell him so to his face?”
“Yes, and a great deal more,” replied Captain Link; “but Falcon would
not have the audacity to remain for a second in our presence.”
“That is saying a good deal! And I begin to think he will not come
this evening, as he would perhaps hear that your balloon had come down
here. I believe, candidly, gentlemen, that every word you have said
must have some foundation; but I am very vexed to suppose that I have
been deceived in this man, for I took him for a great and successful
financier. However, we can enter into these points by-and-by, as I
daresay there are many friends and neighbours in the park by this time.
Mr Falcon may be in their midst, for all I know.”
“He is more likely to be in ambush not far off,” said the aeronaut.
“Indeed! you speak, my friends, with such an air of confidence, that I
shall not hesitate to suggest that we start down at once and inquire if
anything has been seen or heard of him. Someone is knocking, I think,”
added the squire. “Oh, Lucy, come in. What’s the matter?”
“If you please, sir, Miss Dove says that, as the young lady is not
very well, she would like to remain with her a little longer, but she
wishes that the gentlemen should not delay their captive ascents,
although there will be moonlight early this evening. And Miss Dove
wishes you to read this short telegram, sir--just received.”
“Very well, Lucy, then we will go down to the park at once, and say I
hope the lady will soon be herself again.”
After Lucy had left the room, the squire read the short note.
“It is merely a hoax, I should say,” added the squire, “but judge for
yourselves. This is what it says,--
“‘Miss Dove is warned to be careful how she walks about Wedwell Park
and other parts for the next few days, without she has someone with
her.
“‘S. W.’
“There is no signature attached,” added the squire, “beyond the
initials S. W.; they do not amount to much. S. W. might be Sam Watson,
an officious neighbour.”
“Or Simon Warner,” thought the aeronaut, and then turning to the
squire, he said,--
“Will you allow me just to see the handwriting?”
“You wouldn’t know it,” replied the squire; “it is a telegram,
remember. Still, Falcon’s absence, if persisted in, will give rise
to fears which will be greatly increased if he does not show up by
to-morrow; his not coming to-day, when he faithfully appointed to be
here to dinner, attaches great weight to what you have all three said.”
“I am afraid,” replied the aeronaut, as he looked at the captain, “that
we have done wrong in not going farther a-field, as we are creating
unpleasant apprehensions.”
“Your opportune arrival here, on the contrary, may prove of the utmost
service to me and to my daughter; and now, after that frank admission,
we must really be moving towards the balloon; but before we leave, I
will just ask Bennet to step in.”
“Have you heard anything, Bennet, about that silly attempt at flight
near Haywards Heath?”
“Not much in it, squire, I believe.”
“Who were the parties?”
“Two Dutchmen, I was told. The man who tried to fly was a little man
called Professor Scudder, and his employer, I heard, was a fine, big,
full-bearded gentleman, but his beard and wig were false.”
“How could they know that, Bennet?”
“There was an explosion, squire, and he was blown into a horse pond,
where his wig and beard came off.”
“What next shall we hear of? Quite a mountebank performance, I
suppose,” said the squire, with a loud laugh.
“Something that way. It was thought, squire, Professor Scudder was shot
into a clump of trees, and had a narrow escape.”
“May I ask your gamekeeper how long since this affair came off?” asked
the aeronaut.
“Barely a fortnight since, sir,” said Bennet.
“Soon after I alighted on the Essex Marsh,” observed Harry Goodall to
Captain Link, suggestively.