THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT
“Now, Bennet,” said the squire, as they left the hall, “will the
balloon lift us?”
“Oh, yes, squire, the pilot says she has plenty of power.”
“That’s all right. I ought to have told you, gentlemen, that we have
large works near the park lane which can supply more gas if it is
required. How much can we spare, Bennet?”
“About 20,000 feet, squire--that is, on demand, but much more to order.”
“We are surprised to hear this, squire,” said the aeronaut; “at that
rate, my balloon could be either refilled here, or fed and retained if
need be.”
“Yes, it could. I hope the pilot has been well seen after, Bennet?”
“Oh yes, squire, I have attended to him myself; but we have been a bit
annoyed by the doctor, who has been taking on worse than ever.”
“What about? What has he to do with my visitors, who have enlightened
me on points of great importance, and who will always meet with a warm
reception here?”
“Doctor Peters has been predicting, squire, that the balloon is like a
bird of ill omen, and that it means something unpleasant happening.”
“Perhaps he meant it portends that something unpleasant has been found
out. However, I must clip the doctor’s wings, and as to ‘birds of ill
omen,’ I don’t know whom he can be thinking about. By-the-bye, have you
seen anything of Mr Falcon?”
“Not to-day, squire.”
“When was his servant, Croft, last here?”
“Oh, not since Mr Falcon was injured in the back by the Essex poachers,
squire.”
A hearty laugh followed this remark, but the aeronaut did not venture a
reply until the squire said,--
“What do you think of that, gentlemen?”
“Perhaps the sportsman was on other people’s property,” said Harry
Goodall.
“That is a question we will leave for the present,” replied the squire.
“Is Doctor Peters still in the park, Bennet?”
“I believe he has gone to the post-office, squire, about an answer to a
telegram he sent to Sydenham when the balloon arrived.”
“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well, the doctor may be on the staff of the
_Times_ for what I know; he is a most singular character. One can
scarcely take seriously all that he has to say of himself. But you go
on in advance, Bennet, and say that we are on our way down.”
“What may be your pilot’s name, pray?” asked Squire Dove.
“Tom Trigger,” replied the aeronaut.
“An expressive name. Is he a good shot?”
“Do you mean at game, squire?” asked the aeronaut, smiling.
“It is not to be supposed that he would fire on a fellow-creature.”
“Yet he has fired at one when greatly exasperated,” said the aeronaut.
“Indeed!” exclaimed the squire, as they rounded a clump of lofty
trees in the vicinity of a fish-pond, near to which the gas house was
located, close to a lane.
“Now, pilot,” said the aeronaut, “will the balloon lift three,
including Squire Dove?”
“She has ample power, sir, for four.”
“My daughter will not be able to join us just yet,” added the squire.
“Can the balloon ascend by moonlight?”
“Oh, yes,” replied the aeronaut.
On the strength of these assurances, the squire, Harry Goodall and the
captain ascended to the length of a long rope, and had a splendid
bird’s-eye view of the park and the surrounding country. Afterwards,
at the squire’s request, his neighbour, the Reverend Mr Penfold went
up, the squire accompanying him. This induced many others to follow,
and after a time some of the household went aloft, conducted by Tom
Trigger, Lucy having set them the example, but she had to go back
immediately afterwards to Miss Dove, who was soon going down for her
moonlight trip; but the squire began to think that it was almost too
late to continue the ascents. However, as Miss Dove was seen to be
approaching in the carriage, he said,--
“Can you take the captain besides yourself and my daughter?” adding
that he would himself see to the working of the windlass.
As soon as they were comfortably seated, the aeronaut said,--
“Let up steadily, please, squire.”
“All right, the pilot and plenty of hands are in attendance.”
The view Miss Dove had of the park and Wedwell Hall by the light of
the moon was unexpectedly gratifying, but owing to the lady visitor’s
attack of hysteria, Edith was more thoughtful and less appreciative of
the silvery-lighted scenery than she otherwise would have been; still,
her remarks of delight were heard below, and her friends declared that
this was the most striking ascent that had been made, for the people
cheered and gave Miss Dove quite an ovation. But just when the pilot
and Bennet had commenced to wind down the balloon, a report from a gun
was heard, which appeared to have been discharged from a neighbouring
plantation--and as the flash was seen just within the borders of the
plantation, people hardly knew what to make of the affair, especially
as a hat was seen directly afterwards to fall from the balloon.
Bennet, thinking that it was the accidental discharge of a poacher’s
gun, rushed up a bye-path leading to the lane, followed by a local
policeman and a stranger, who had not long arrived from Lewes, and who
was said to be a detective named Warner.
As the balloon came near the ground, something was seen to be wrong,
for Miss Dove appeared very excited, and the aeronaut had drawn a scarf
over his head; but he asked the squire to help Miss Dove out of the
car, when she stepped aside and whispered something to her father.
The captain, looking very serious, told Trigger to place some men in
the car, as they got out, then he offered to assist the aeronaut to
dismount, but the aeronaut said, as if nothing was amiss, that he
did not want any help, though the squire and Miss Dove, who had now
reappeared, could perceive that blood was flowing down his face.
“Do, papa,” cried the anxious young lady, “insist upon his going up to
the Hall with us in the carriage.”
“Yes, take my arm and do so,” said the squire; “and you accompany us,
captain.”
Trigger followed them to the door of the carriage, having his master’s
hat in his hand, and pointed to a hole in it; but the aeronaut smiled
and said,--
“You are really making much ado about nothing; it is a mere graze on
the head. Don’t, pray, feel alarmed.”
Miss Dove, despite these assurances, was visibly agitated, nor could
she well be otherwise, as a rather copious flow of blood pointed to a
wound of some kind.
As soon as the Hall was reached, Lucy was sent for to go and look for
Doctor Peters. She came forward, looking very frightened and saying
that the cook, Saunders, had met with some injury, for Lucy had not yet
seen who was in the carriage, and was going on to explain the cook’s
mishap, when the aeronaut, her former master, entered. Seeing that some
accident had happened, Lucy ran off at once, followed by the squire,
to obtain the doctor’s assistance, whilst the captain, having got some
water and a sponge, began to bathe the wound, and was doing his best
to stop the bleeding when the doctor was heard to be coming with the
squire.
Doctor Peters was astonished to see who was his second patient, and was
inclined to break out into a tirade as to the two disasters which had
been brought about by the balloon. He said the cook had been knocked
down by two fellows, and now what was this affair?
The squire, though he had hardly patience to explain, said,--
“While my daughter was making a captive ascent, someone fired off a gun
at this gentleman or at Edith, from the long plantation!”
The doctor, who had not examined the wound with much energy, suggested
that it might have been accidental, most likely a stray shot from a
poacher’s gun--judging by the partially scalping effects of it.
“Is it at all serious?” asked the squire, impatiently.
“I should say not, squire. The cranium has been struck over the
phrenological organ of benevolence. Had it been an inch lower, it might
have proved fatal.”
“Then,” said Miss Dove, “it is not dangerous?”
“No, it is of a superficial character, fortunately.”
“It is a pity,” said Miss Dove, as she left the room to go and speak to
the invalid lady upstairs, “that you did not say so at once.”
“Exactly. Your misplaced formality, doctor, is perplexing and uncalled
for,” said the irritated squire, “and I think that if you had come to
the point at once it would have been quite as well.”
“Don’t you worry, squire,” said the patient. “I told you before that
nothing very serious had occurred.”
“Then if I go and see to the ladies, you will excuse me for a short
time,” said the squire.
“Certainly,” said the aeronaut; “and I shall feel obliged if the
captain will go down to the people and give Doctor Peters’s report to
all who may inquire after Miss Dove and myself.”
“My dear sir!” exclaimed the doctor, as the captain left, “excuse me,
but I noticed that you coupled your name in a very familiar manner with
Miss Dove’s. Now, perhaps you are not aware that a gentleman has been
assiduously and recently--”
“There, shut up your confounded nonsense, doctor,” cried the
aeronaut, with a loud laugh; “I am quite sure that no one who may
have been visiting here lately, or who may still be hanging about
this neighbourhood, will have any chance with Miss Dove unless his
intentions and actions are honourable.”
“My good sir,” cried the doctor, “your wound is causing an inflammatory
state of the brain, I am afraid. Do be less wandering if you can, or
I cannot undertake to fit you for leaving here, as you no doubt wish
to do, in order to attend to your ballooning. If you keep quiet, you
can leave with my approval to-morrow; but to do so you must avoid all
flights of fancy that may prove exciting.”
Here the patient broke out into another fit of laughter, which
brought down Miss Dove, who was delighted to hear any indication of
cheerfulness.
“I was simply alluding,” said Doctor Peters, by way of explanation, “to
Mr Falcon’s visits here, when this gentleman thought proper to betray
feverish, if not slighting, outbursts, which I was not prepared for,
Miss Dove.”
“Have you noticed, Doctor Peters,” asked Edith, “that my father has
removed Mr Falcon’s portrait?”
“No, I had not, Miss Dove,” said the doctor; “in fact, I have been
feeling partially bewildered ever since the balloonists dropped upon
us, so you must not be too hard on an old friend.”
After this appeal, Edith left the doctor and his patient alone.
“Did I understand,” asked the doctor, “that you knew Mr Falcon?”
“I have seen him on more occasions than one,” replied the patient.
“Hadn’t he been shot in the back, and didn’t he try to wear spectacles,
and hasn’t he a rather flighty turn?”
“What can you know of Mr Falcon’s habits beyond mere hearsay?”
“I know more about him than you imagine, doctor!”
“Of his double, perhaps.”
“I am alluding to your Mr Falcon, who wore spectacles on the day that
he was shot at in the Essex marshes for attempted incendiarism.”
“Merciful powers! My good sir, what are you dreaming of? He certainly
did tell me that he had tried spectacles, but I told him to throw them
up.”
“Did he tell you what else he had tried?”
“God bless me, sir, you are getting worse and worse.”
“Have you seen him about here this evening, doctor? I mean since you
communicated with him?”
“Goodness me, no! It would be impossible for Mr Falcon to be here.”
“How so? Supposing he left Sydenham Station before five o’clock,
couldn’t he have secretly crept into the park before the last ascent of
the balloon?”
“My good man!” cried the doctor, “you have got some of the most
horrible notions in your head that it is possible to conceive.”
“Would you, doctor, be surprised to learn, as I did before I was
shot at, that a policeman from Sydenham is now here watching the
proceedings?”
“I must really go and have a private talk with the squire, and send for
your friend. Ah! some knocks--come in. Oh! it’s Miss Dove, I see. Will
you remain here, Miss Edith, while I speak with your father?”
“Certainly, doctor; you will meet him coming down.”
When Doctor Peters met the squire, he said to him confidentially,--
“It is advisable that the balloonist’s friend, the sailor, should look
well after him to-night; and he must take no stimulants, as I fear that
his mind is affected.”
“What makes you think so, Peters?”
“Think so? I’m sure of it, squire. He fancies that your friend Falcon
is an incendiary and a homicide, besides being flighty.”
“That is no proof that he is deranged; this scientific gentleman is a
perfectly sane and far-seeing man.”
“Is he, squire? Then I am wrong in the upper story myself, while
you are far gone in balloonacy! But don’t you listen to any
cleverly-devised fables without having strong evidence to support them,
squire, for I have no doubt that Mr Falcon will reappear to-morrow or
next day and upset these people’s statements.”
“He dare not appear face to face with them,” said the squire.
“Don’t you believe that, for it is only the balloonist’s wild notion,
which he has got into his head to-night.”
“It is well he didn’t get the bullet into his head! The question now
for solution is, who fired either at him or at my daughter?”
“I am surprised, Squire Dove, at your having listened to what these
utter strangers have insinuated about an absent man, who is being very
likely mistaken for someone else of the same name.”
“You don’t know, doctor, what these strangers have told me and my
daughter?”
“No, I do not, but if I had been present when they disparaged Mr
Falcon, I should have stood up for him, as I will do until he arrives
to defend himself; and as you have always been credited, squire, with
not being prejudiced against the accused until you hear what he has to
say, I hope you will not be hasty in believing all you hear.”
“When we get strong confirmation--proof after proof against Falcon, I
suppose you will give in then, doctor?”
“Oh, yes, squire, I will undertake to eat my own words if you can
convince me that I am wrong, for I look upon this episode in ballooning
as a farcical affair!”
“That will do, doctor, please, for it may sooner than you expect
present a much more serious aspect! Of course, you will give your
patients a look in the morning?”
“Most certainly. I have well dressed the balloonist’s head.”
“Don’t fear, doctor, that he will turn out ungrateful, for if one-half
of what I hear is true, he may return the compliment before long by
giving you a dressing.”
“I am sorry to see you influenced, squire, by such absurd trash. Don’t
believe a word of it. _Au revoir._”
When the squire hastened down the park to see if the man who had
discharged the gun had been seen, he found that the local policeman and
Bennet had not yet returned from their chase after the two men from the
back part of Wedwell Hall, who had been seen to run away in a northerly
direction, where they might have met and injured the cook.
Just before the aeronaut had gone aloft for the last trip, Warner had
suddenly appeared on the scene, though not expected, but he had not
sufficient time to tell Mr Goodall the object of his visit. Thinking
it, therefore, just possible that he might not see the aeronaut again
for some little time to describe what brought him down to Wedwell Park,
he went into the gamekeeper’s cottage and wrote down on a slip of paper
a memorandum of particulars and left the same for early delivery to Mr
Goodall.
The captain brought it up to the Hall, accompanied by the squire, after
they had seen that the pilot, together with a good staff of workmen had
been told off to look after the balloon during the night.
The squire, who had inadvertently or purposely left the young people
alone, anxiously asked if the patient was worse?
“No, I am altogether better, squire,” said the aeronaut, and glancing
at the letter which the captain handed him, he gave it back, asking him
to read it out to them.
Warner’s reason for going to Wedwell Park:--
“After you ascended, sir, to-day, I tried to find Falcon and Croft at
Sydenham with the aid of the London detective, Hawksworth, but the
roundabout way he went to work in search of a clue so upset me that I
left him and proceeded in my own humble way to act alone.
“Just as I was going to my lodgings, near the Lower Sydenham Station,
I met a railway clerk I know coming that way, and I asked him if he
had seen anything of two men, one tall and dark, the other short and
sly looking, as they were wanted.
“‘If you step into the booking department,’ he said, ‘you will find
them consulting the time tables about a Sussex train; they are going
on by the next train to Croydon, where they will change for Lewes.
Shall I go in and get you a ticket, and arrange that you slip into
the guard’s van, Mr Warner?’
“‘Please do, and send on word to our inspector to say where I am
going, as it is on important business,’ I said, at the same time
explaining a little to him about the balloon ascent and the men’s
recent conduct.
“‘But,’ said he, ‘do you know, Mr Warner, where the balloon came
down?’
“‘No I don’t,’ I replied.
“‘It dropped in Wedwell Park, not so very far from Lewes, strange to
say? We have had a message up to that effect, and that is what these
men are going there about in all probability,’ said he.
“‘Did they reply to the telegram?’ I asked.
“‘No, but they have been away since and disguised themselves;
but I could see they were the same parties and thought they were
card-sharpers. If you look sharp, you will have time to slip into
your lodgings and put on other clothes,’ said he.
“‘All right, and I’ll tread close on their heels, and very glad I am
to get a good clue without beating about the bush,’ I said to the
railway clerk.
“This correct information, sir, enabled me to follow them here
without their knowing it. Falcon and Croft took a trap over, and I
came in a fly--but I warn you that they may be here bent on mischief.
I sent an earlier warning to Miss Dove not to go out without
protection.
“S. W.”
“Oh, if this is from S. W., then the first was from him too,” said the
squire. “How very clever and sharp, to be sure. I wish we had such men
down here.”
“Warner is a born genius in his line, squire.”
“I believe he is, and who was the London detective?”
“Oh, that was the opinionated man who wanted to arrest my friend the
captain--his name is Hawksworth.”
“You told us about him at dinner, captain,” said Miss Dove.
“Marvellous!” exclaimed the squire; “but it is getting late, Edith. I
hope the lady has recovered.”
“I hear Lucy just coming, papa.”
“The lady is fast asleep, miss, and is better,” said Lucy in reply to
her mistress’s question.
“Then let us all follow her example,” said the squire, showing his
guests to their rooms.