A few mornings after the meeting with Raymond Oliphant, Tom, coming down
to breakfast, found Mr. Greatorex in a state of high excitability, with
the _Times_ outspread before him.
"What did I say, Tom!" he shouted. "Didn't I _tell_ you the Country was
going to the dogs! What do you think of _this_, now?"
He read out a short paragraph--
"Information has just reached the Foreign Office that Sir Mark
Ingleton, who recently left London on a diplomatic mission to Morocco,
has been captured by tribesmen and carried off to the hills. Strong
pressure is being brought to bear on the Sultan to take steps against
the offenders; but if, as is feared, Sir Mark Ingleton's captor is the
notorious rebel whose headquarters are at Zemmur, there is little hope
of the Sultan in his present state of impotence being able to make his
authority felt."
"That's what has happened to a servant of the British Crown under
Langside's administration;" said Mr. Greatorex hotly. "Strong
_pressure_, indeed! It wants a fleet, an expedition, a few quick-firers
and Long Toms."
"But wouldn't that make a blaze?" said Tom quietly. "In the present
state of affairs it might give rise to no end of complications in
Europe, too."
"Don't tell _me_!" cried Mr. Greatorex, banging his fist on the paper.
"We're sinking into a state of jelly-fish; any one can poke us and smack
us and we simply _go in_. This'll smash the Government: that's one good
thing; and we'll see what John Brooks can do when _he's_ at the helm."
Later in the day Raymond Oliphant, who was now a privileged visitor to
the shed, adverted to the subject.
"Thank your stars you are not Prime Minister, Dorrell," he said. "The
pater came down for the week-end, and he's nearly off his chump, poor
old chap! He knew about this kidnapping three days ago, before it got
into the papers, and he went back to town this morning prepared for
squalls in the House."
"Can't he do anything?"
"He says not. One of the Opposition rags was screaming about an
expedition on Saturday, but of course that can't be risked. And it might
fail after all--just as the Gordon expedition did. That Moorish brigand
might kill Ingleton if hard pressed."
"But what would he gain by that? He's playing for a ransom, I suppose."
"No, there's more in it than that. We've already offered an enormous
ransom through the Sultan; but the rebel wants to get certain
concessions out of the Sultan, and thinks he'll manage it by getting the
Sultan into hot water with us. I say, what a pity your aeroplane isn't
fit for the job. What a grand idea it would be to snap up the prisoner
under the very noses of his captors! I suppose it _isn't_ up to it, eh?"
Tom shook his head.
"I couldn't trust it to go so far. You see, here the workshop is at
hand, and if anything goes wrong it can be easily repaired. It would be
rather a poor lookout if the thing came to grief in the Bay of Biscay,
say, and I came souse into the sea."
"It _would_ be rather rotten. Well, let's have a spin now."
The two mounted the car, and spent an hour in wheeling about the
enclosure. Tom ventured to set the motors at a higher speed than he had
before tried, and put the aeroplane through a score of evolutions, which
demonstrated that he had it perfectly under control. Oliphant in his
enthusiasm returned again to the matter of the captured envoy.
"I say, is it quite out of the question, d'you think?"
"Afraid so. Perhaps in a few months----"
"That's no good," interrupted his companion. "The occasion will be
passed. Ingleton will be either released or dead, and, in any case,
there'll be such a terrific agitation against the pater that he'll be
forced to resign. He wouldn't mind personally; but there's the Country,
you see. Can't you risk it?"
"I might if only myself were concerned; but there's Mr. Greatorex to
reckon with. The whole thing's only experimental. I'm sure he wouldn't
hear of it."
"Politics is a rotten game! Wish we were back in the times before Whigs
and Tories were invented."
"And unpopular ministers lost their heads!--Now I'm going to let her
down. See how near she falls to the perpendicular."
He dropped a hammer out of the car, stopped the horizontal motion and
started the vertical, adjusted the planes, and descended gently to the
ground.
"That's better," he cried, when he had measured the distance between the
aeroplane and the hammer; "it's only a dozen yards. We're getting on.
Really, I wish I could try your suggestion."
"Shall I mention it to the pater?" said Oliphant eagerly.
"Not on any account," said Tom aghast. "Even if I could do it, he of all
men must not know."
"I don't see why."
"Supposing I tried it and came a cropper, there'd be a double outcry
against him; the first for not rescuing Sir Mark Ingleton, the second
for allowing a crack-brained engineer to make a fool of himself and a
corpse in the bargain. No, give it up; I don't see any help for it."
But when left to himself Tom could not keep his thoughts from Oliphant's
suggestion. The adventurous idea captivated his imagination; he began to
consider it in earnest; he spent several hours of the afternoon in
further experimenting with the aeroplane, and after dinner, when Mr.
Greatorex and he went out into the grounds for their customary stroll
and cigarettes, he broached the subject, in a casual way, and in much
the same terms as Oliphant had used.
"Pity we couldn't take a trip to Morocco and get Ingleton away," he said
cautiously.
"Eh! Pull Langside's chestnuts out of the fire! He was a fool to send
the man to Morocco. I wouldn't if I could, and of _course_ it's
impossible."
"I'm not sure of that. And it isn't a party matter, really."
"Not party! It's _all_ party."
"Sir Mark Ingleton is an agent of the Crown, sir, and the Crown is above
party. I think in these matters we might sink our differences."
"Yes, and sink our aeroplane, and _drown_ ourselves, and serve us
_right_."
But opposition was only a stimulus to Tom. He began to argue the matter
strenuously. Mr. Greatorex, to do him justice, was no bigot. His
politics were at bottom a particularly intense form of patriotism; and
when Tom showed him that there were at any rate possibilities in the
suggestion, he gradually changed his view, forgot his reluctance to help
a political opponent, and became indeed quite enthusiastic.
"By _George_, Tom!" he exclaimed; "what a grand send-off it would be to
your invention if the first use of it were the rescue of this
unfortunate diplomatist! And what a magnificent thing for the Country!
Come and let's talk it out over a cup of coffee. Not a _word_ before
Mrs. Greatorex, mind."
"Well, John, are you pleased with your toy?" said that good lady when
they re-entered the house.
"Quite, my dear, _quite_."
"It will be quite a feature of our garden party. But I hope Tom will
make sure that it is absolutely safe before he takes anybody up at half
a crown a ride. I shall be glad of the half-crowns for my Nursing
Association, but I should never forgive you if any one was hurt."
"Why, my dear, the half-crowns would go to pay the _nurses_."
Mr. Greatorex and Tom had a long talk in the study that night. Up to the
present the longest journey the aeroplane had taken without descending
was, as Tom estimated, about forty miles. Then something had always
occurred to make a descent necessary. The principal stumbling-block had
been the overheating of the motors. But Tom suggested that if he were
content with a speed of about twenty-five miles an hour, a greater
distance might be covered without this risk.
The practical question was, could the machine be brought so near the
place of the envoy's captivity as to make a dash upon it practicable?
From the latest report, in the evening paper, it appeared that the
prisoner was held in a mountain fastness some eighty miles from the
Atlantic seaboard. Tom got out a map and pointed out the spot. It did
not seem impossible to reach it by means of the airship from some
convenient place on the coast.
"D'you know what occurs to me?" said Tom. "You were talking of a
yachting cruise in the _Dandy Dinmont_ in September. Why not make it a
little earlier? I could then go in the airship and you in the yacht; and
we could make that a kind of floating base, taking in it all materials
necessary for repairs."
"But you couldn't repair the thing without letting it down on the deck."
"I could do that, I think. To-day I came down within a few feet of the
spot I aimed at, and I could let the machine down on deck if the yacht
were not rolling or pitching too much."
"But _hang_ it all, Tom, the deck _wasn't made_ for such a purpose."
"No; but it wouldn't take long to rig up a temporary wooden platform and
framework over the after-part of the vessel to serve as a
landing-stage."
"You appear to have thought it all out," said Mr. Greatorex. "D'you want
to rush me off my _feet_?"
"Not a bit," replied Tom smiling. "You'll be safe on deck."
"Well, how long will it take to get everything ready?"
"A week."
"Very well. I'll write off to Bodgers to-night to trim the yacht. The
rest I leave to you. And mind, not a _word_ to a soul."
"I think I shall have to tell Oliphant. In fact, it was he who put it
into my head."
"That's a nuisance! Well, we'll have him to dinner to-morrow. I want to
take stock of him. Not a _word_ till I have sized him up."
Oliphant came to dinner with his sister and was approved. Mrs. Greatorex
afterwards pronounced him to be "quite a nice boy." Mr. Greatorex used
different terms.
"He's no _fool_, and don't _talk_ too much," he said.
The three had a very animated discussion as they walked in the cool of
the evening. Mr. Greatorex was very emphatic on the point of secrecy.
"We don't want any newspaper fellow to get wind of the airship until
we've _proved_ it," he said. "A pretty fool I should look if they gassed
about it for a column or two and then the whole thing went _pop_ like a
paper balloon. And that Morocco fellow will have plenty of spies, of
course; _I_ know their Eastern ways; and if he got a hint of what we're
up to, he'd be on his guard and then there'd be fizzle."
"How many passengers will the machine carry?" asked Oliphant.
"Three or four light-weights, I should think," Tom replied.
"You'll have room for me, then?"
"Good heavens, no!" cried Mr. Greatorex. "Couldn't _hear_ of it!"
"But it was my idea, you know, Mr. Greatorex. I was only longing for
something to fill these holidays."
"Absurd! Preposterous! You're under age; you couldn't go without your
father's permission; you couldn't ask that without giving the whole
thing away: and I couldn't be responsible for you."
"Well, I tell you what it is, Mr. Greatorex. You invite me to go a
cruise in your yacht. The mater's got a notion that my lungs are weak,
and was saying only the other day that a sea trip would do me good. I'd
see some of the fun, then."
"_There_ you are, Mr. Oliphant! _Fun! I_ regard it as most _serious_, I
assure you. Now, in _my_ young days----"
"I bet you liked fun as well as any of us, Mr. Greatorex," said Oliphant
quickly. "If the truth were known, I dare say you really beat us all."
Mr. Greatorex's eyes twinkled.
"Well, now I come to think of it, I _was_ a wild young rip. So they all
said. I remember---- But come now, I mustn't tell you _that_. _Never_ do!
Your father would never let you go; he doesn't know me and doesn't want
to, and I'm doing my level best to kick him out at the next election."
"And he'll probably be jolly glad if you succeed! Mayn't I come, Mr.
Greatorex?"
"Sorry to disoblige you, Mr. Oliphant, but it would _never do_. No. In
fact, I think we'll give it up altogether. Too risky! We'll give it
_up_, Tom."
Oliphant went home in a very bad temper.
"Mrs. Greatorex is a dear old thing," said his sister.
"And Mr. Greatorex is an old rotter," retorted Raymond in a tone of
disgust.
Margaret Oliphant obtained very unsatisfactory answers to the questions
to which this remark gave rise, and concluded that in some way Raymond
had not hit it with his host.
Mr. Greatorex would doubtless have been much surprised had he seen the
letter which Lord Langside wrote to his son a few days later.
"My dear Ray," wrote the Prime Minister,--
"Are you conspiring against me, like Absalom? Mr. Greatorex can't do
me much harm on a yacht. He won't see a newspaper for a month! Hope
you'll enjoy yourself.
"Your affectionate
"Dad."
Oliphant showed this letter to no one. But the day he received it, he
went a long and tedious journey by train across country to the little
port of Horleston. He reached home very late, but in much better spirits
than might have been expected after such a tiresome experience of slow
trains.