"Well," she said, "I do think you might give me a show now and then.
Considering the press I generally get, I've never been quite able to
understand why the _Special_ leaves me out of it."
I thought she must be an actress--and yet she hadn't quite that manner.
At any rate I said:
"I'm awfully sorry, but you see I'm only editor, and I've nothing really
to do with the dramatic criticism. However, please say the word, and
I'll ginger up my man at once."
"Dramatic criticism!" she said, her eyes wide with surprise. "Sir
Thomas, can it really be that you don't know who I am?"
It was a little embarrassing.
"Do you know, I know your face awfully well," I said, "though I'm quite
sure we've never met before or I should have remembered, and when Lady
Stileman introduced us just now all I caught was Poppy."
She sighed--I should put her between nineteen and twenty in age--"Well,
for a London editor, you _are_ a fossil, though you don't look more than
about six-and-twenty. Why, Poppy Boynton!"
Then, in a flash, I knew. This was the Hon. Poppy Boynton, Lord
Portesham's daughter, the flying girl, the leading lady aviator, who had
looped the loop over Mont Blanc and done all sorts of mad, extraordinary
things.
"_Of course_, I know you, Miss Boynton! Only, I never expected to meet
you here. What a chance for an editor! Do tell me all your adventures."
"Will you give me a column interview on the front page if I do?"
"Of course I will. I'll write it myself."
"And a large photograph?"
"Half the back page if you like."
"You're a dear," she said in a business-like voice. "On second
thoughts, I'll write the interview myself and give it you before we
leave here. And, meanwhile, I'll tell you an extraordinary flight of
mine only yesterday."
I was in for it and there was no way out. Still, she was extremely
pretty and a celebrity in her way, so I settled myself to listen.
"What did you do yesterday morning?" I asked. "Did you loop the loop
over Saint Paul's or something?"
"Loop the loop!" she replied, with great contempt. "That's an infantile
stunt of the dark ages. No, I went for my usual morning fly before
breakfast and saw a marvel, and got cursed by a djinn out of the Arabian
Nights."
This sounded fairly promising for a start, but as she went on I jerked
like a fish in a basket.
"You know the great wireless towers on Richmond Hill?"
"Of course. The highest erection in the world, isn't it, more than twice
the height of the Eiffel Tower? You can see the things from all parts of
London."
"On a clear day," she nodded, "the rest of the time the top is quite
hidden by clouds. Now it struck me I'd go and have a look at them close
to. Our place, Norman Court, is only about fifteen miles farther up the
Thames. I started off in my little gnat-machine and rose to about
fifteen hundred feet at once, when I got into a bank of fleecy wet
cloud, fortunately not more than a hundred yards or so thick. It was
keeping all the sun from London about seven-thirty yesterday morning.
When I came out above, of course I wasn't sure of my direction, but as I
turned the machine a point or so I saw, standing up straight out of the
cloud at not more than six miles away, the tops of the towers. I headed
straight for them."
She lit a cigarette and I noticed her face changed a little. There was
an introspective look in the eyes, a look of memory.
"As I drew near, Sir Thomas, I saw what I think is the most marvelous
sight I have _ever_ seen. You people who crawl about on earth never do
see what _we_ see. I have flown over Mont Blanc and seen the dawn upon
the Matterhorn and Monte Rosa from that height, and I thought that was
the most heavenly thing ever seen by mortal eye. But yesterday morning I
beat that impression--yes!--right on the outskirts of London and only a
few hours ago! Down from below nobody can really see much of the towers.
You haven't seen much, for instance, have you?"
"Only that they're now all linked together at the top by the most
intricate series of girders, on the suspension principle, I suppose.
There are a lot of sheds and things on this artificial space, or at
least it looks like it."
"Sheds and things! Sir Thomas, I thought I saw the New Jerusalem
floating on the clouds! The morning sun poured down upon a vast, hanging
space of which you can have no conception, and rising up on every side
from snowy-white ramparts were towers and cupolas with gilded roofs
which blazed like gold. There were fantastic halls pierced with Oriental
windows, walls which glowed like jacinth and amethyst, and parapets of
pearl.
"It was a city, a City in the Clouds, a place of enchantment floating
high, high up above the smoke and the din of London--serene, majestic,
and utterly lovely. I tell you"--here her voice dropped--"the vision
caught at my heart, and a great lump came into my throat. I'm pretty
hard-bitten, too! As I went past one side of the immense triangle--which
must occupy several acres--on which the city is built, I saw an inner
courtyard with what seemed like green lawns. I could swear there were
trees planted there and that a great fountain was playing like a stream
of liquid diamonds.
"I was so startled, and almost frightened, that I ripped away for
several miles till, descending a little through the cloud-bank, I found
I was right over Tower Bridge.
"But I swore I'd see that majestic city again, and I spiraled up and
turned.
"There it was, many miles away now, a mere speck upon the billowing snow
of the cloud-bank, and as I raced towards it once more it grew and grew
into all its former loveliness. I adjusted my engines and went as slow
as I possibly could--perhaps you know that our modern aeroplanes, with
the new helicopter central screw, can glide at not much more than
fifteen miles an hour, for a short distance that is. Well, that's what I
did, and once more the place burst upon me in all its wonder. It's the
marvel of marvels, Sir Thomas; I haven't got words even to hint at it. I
could see details more clearly now, and I floated by among the ramparts
on one side, not a pistol shot away. And then, upon the top of a little
flat tower there appeared the most extraordinary figure.
"It was a gigantic yellow-faced man in a long robe and wide sleeves,
and he threw his hands above his head and cursed me. Of course the noise
of the engine drowned all he said, but his face was simply fiendish. I
just caught one flash of it, and I never want to see anything like it
again."
I sat spellbound in my chair while she told me this and again the sense
that I was being borne along, whither I knew not, by some irresistible
current of fate, possessed me to the exclusion of all else.
"Why, you look quite tired and gray, Sir Thomas," said Miss Boynton. "I
do hope I haven't bored you."
"Bored me! I was away up in the air with you, looking upon that
enchanted city. But why, what do you make of it, have you told any one?"
"Only father and my sister, who said that it must have been an illusion
of the mist, a refraction of the air at high altitudes that transformed
the wireless instrument sheds to fairyland."
She shrugged her shoulders and smiled.
"As if I didn't know all about that!" she said. "Why, it wasn't much
more than two thousand feet up--a mere hop."
I had to think very rapidly at this juncture. The news took one's breath
away. To begin with, one thing seemed perfectly clear. Gideon Morse had
purposely told me as little as he possibly could. Yet, upon reflection,
I found that he had told me no lies. He had admitted that he was at the
bottom of this colossal enterprise--was it some Earl's Court of the air,
the last word in amusement catering? It might well be so, though
somehow or other the thought annoyed me. Moreover, the capital outlay
must have been so vast that such a scheme could never pay interest upon
it. Then I recollected that in a few hours more I should have my
promised talk with Morse and he would explain everything as he had
promised. There was still a chance of a big scoop for the _Evening
Special_.
"Look here, Miss Boynton," I said, "if you keep what you have seen a
secret for the next two days, and then let me publish an account of it,
my paper would gladly pay two hundred and fifty pounds for the story."
Her eyes opened wide, like those of a child who has been promised a very
big box of chocolates indeed.
"Can do," she said, holding out a pretty little hand which flying had in
no way roughened or distorted. I took it, and so the bargain was made.
Soon afterwards more guests began to arrive, and the great hall was full
of laughing, chattering figures, among whom were several people that I
knew. However, I was in no mood for society or small talk and I retired
to my own room and sat dreaming before a comfortable fire until Preston
came in and told me it was time to dress.
I was ashamed to ask him if the Morses had arrived, but I went
downstairs into a large yellow drawing-room half full of people, and
looked round eagerly.
Lady Stileman was standing by one of the fireplaces talking to Miss
Boynton, and I went up to them. Apparently it was a wonderful year for
"birds," as partridges, and partridges alone, are called in Norfolk.
They had hatched out much later than usual, hence the waiting until the
middle of September, but covies were abnormally large and the young
birds already strong upon the wing. Fortunately Lady Stileman did all
the talking; I smiled, looked oracular and said "Quite so" at intervals.
My eye was on the drawing-room door which led out into the hall. Once,
twice, it opened, but only to admit strangers to me. The third time,
when I made sure I should see her for whom I sought, no one came in but
a footman in the dark green livery of the house. He carried a salver,
and on it was the orange-colored envelope of a telegram.
With a word of excuse Lady Stileman opened it. She nodded to the man to
go and then turned to me and Poppy Boynton.
"Such a disappointment," she said. "Mr. Morse and his wonderfully pretty
daughter were to have been here, as I think you know. Now he wires to
say that business of the utmost importance prevents either him or his
daughter coming. Fortunately," the good lady concluded, "he doesn't
shoot, so that won't throw the guns out. Walter would be furious if that
happened."
Arthur and Pat Moore came into the room at that moment, and Arthur told
me, an hour or so afterwards, that I looked as if I had seen a ghost,
and that my face was white as paper.