saluting smartly.
"Take it away to leeward there, and show this dull Englishman how he may
learn chemistry and science even from inhabitants of the Hamadian
Desert. Here, take this, you will need it," and the chief handed to his
assistant a small cylindrical tube with which to carry out his orders.
Turning next to the Englishman, he observed, "Know, you dullard, that a
small admixture of a secret gas, which is known only to three living
men, will make your renowned helium flare like hydrogen. You shall see
it in a short space of time."
"Recall your man, I will take your word for it, Sultan!" exclaimed the
captain, who now felt that it must be so, for he was already bewildered
by the strange things which he had witnessed that day, and he had no
desire to see this experiment carried out.
"You believe me, then," returned the air-king, who seemed particularly
to relish this interview with the Englishman, especially with this group
of celebrities within earshot, for they had listened eagerly to every
word which he had spoken. And the German knew that though his days
might be numbered, as indeed he felt they were, yet his fame would be
greatly enhanced by the episodes of this day, for vanity was not the
least among his failings.
Once more he glanced at his watch; for the allotted space of time had
nearly run.
"How now, Englishman!" he exclaimed in a harsher tone. "The bill of
lading, where is it?"
The chief purser, receiving the captain's nod, at once advanced towards
the regal horseman, handed him a bundle of papers and said: "Here, sir,
is the document you desire."
*CHAPTER XII*
*THE MAHARAJAH'S CHOICE*
A dramatic episode followed the examination of the airship's bill of
lading by the _pseudo_ monarch and his so-called chancellor of the
exchequer, Carl, who aided his master in the task.
"Item one. What does that consist of?" asked the brigand.
"Mails. His Britannic Majesty's mails," replied the chancellor.
"Where from?"
"From India for Egypt and London," replied Carl, maintaining a grave and
solemn deportment.
"H'm! They may pass when the usual tribute is paid," remarked the
bandit in serious tones, as though he had delivered himself of some
weighty pronouncement.
The judge looked at the colonel with raised eyebrows when he heard this
strange decision, but the captain, forgetting his position for a moment,
blurted out:--
"Tribute indeed? When did the King of England pay tribute for his mails
to be carried across the Hamadian desert?"
The air-king eyed the speaker with apparent amazement, mingled with a
touch of scorn and pity, then quietly observed:--
"That is the very point, Captain. There has been far too much laxity in
this respect in the past. The liberties of the small nations to make
their own laws, and possess their own lands in peace, have been greatly
endangered of late. It is mere brigandage for a great power to
over-ride the native interests of small communities. But from to-day
this brigandage must cease, at any rate over the territories where I
rule."
The captain could find no reply to this sally of the desert king's, and,
while a smile played about the corners of his mouth, he looked beyond
this robber chief, in his gaudy trappings, to where the _Scorpion_ lay
squatting like an ugly toad upon the sands.
At length the monarch resumed his cross-examination with these words:
"Come, Captain, will you pay tribute for the transit of mails across my
territory, or will you not?"
"I will not!" replied the skipper.
With a flash of fire in his tones the brigand ordered: "Take the first
ten sacks of mails out into the desert and burn them at once."
"It shall be done, O chief," replied Max, who immediately detailed some
of the natives to carry the order into effect, when the captain, urged
to it by the judge, asked:--
"What is the amount of the tribute?"
"Ten thousand pounds in English gold," came the immediate reply.
"I cannot pay it," returned the captain. "It is mere plunder," though
the judge pointed out to the commander quietly that it would probably be
more profitable to pay it and to get away with the mails in a damaged
airship, than to leave the mails behind to be lost or destroyed in the
desert.
"He will take the gold anyhow, when he comes to it on the bill of
lading," added the colonel, "though devil a penny I'd pay him."
"It isn't my money," argued the captain, "so there's an end of it."
"How now, Englishmen! We are wasting time. Will you pay the sum
demanded?"
"No, I will not!"
"Very good. Get out the rest of the mails and burn them at once!"
ordered the monarch, and a couple of minutes afterwards the first bags
of mails, sprayed with some inflammatory liquid, were blazing furiously.
"Item two!" called the desert king.
"Gold. Nineteen boxes of bullion for the Bank of England," called out
the chancellor.
"Gold?" echoed the air-fiend, as though he were utterly unconscious of
the presence of such a commodity, in face of the captain's refusal to
pay over a trifling ten thousand pounds to secure right of way for his
mails.
"Yes, sir. Nearly one hundred thousand pounds in specie."
"I thought we had prohibited the importation of gold into these regions,
chancellor, because of its evil effects upon the minds of the people."
"Yes, sir," returned the chancellor. "We decided to abolish its
importation altogether on that account, save only as tribute money for
the royal chest."
"Exactly," replied the bandit, in a tone of assumed moral injury. Then,
turning to the Englishman, he said: "You must know, Captain, that most
wars are caused by gold, and by the unbrotherly strife which it foments.
You must know also that all wars are sustained by it."
"Yes, I agree with you for once," returned the prisoner, boldly,
wondering at the ease with which this confirmed brigand could turn
moralist.
"Then what must be done with the gold, sir?" asked the chancellor.
"Every ounce of gold on the airship must be confiscated," exclaimed the
king of robbers as he uplifted his hands in pious horror. "Let it be
removed at once."
"Very well, sir," and this second operation, which was more pleasing
still to the waiting Arabs, was immediately put into effect.
"Item three!" called out the chief.
"Ten boxes of valuables, including the personal property and belongings
of one of the passengers," came the reply.
"What, do they belong to one person?"
"Yes, sir."
"What is his name?"
"The Maharajah of Bangapore, sir," returned the wise man of the
exchequer, whose task promised to be an easy one in the future, judging
by the vast amount of spoil which had already fallen into his lap.
"The Maharajah of Bangapore?" repeated the monarch, raising his hand to
his forehead for an instant, as though he would recall some long
forgotten episode. "Is he amongst the company present?"
"I believe so."
"Ask him to stand forth."
And the Indian prince, hearing his name called in English, stepped forth
and confronted his old enemy of the Mesopotamian campaign. When their
eyes met a flash of fire, more eloquent than words, revealed what was in
each man's mind. The prince expected to be tortured to death and was
prepared for it, for, like all his people, he was brave as well as
fierce. At last the robber spoke.
"Prince Jaipur, you are an enemy of mine," he said.
"I know it!"
"Do you expect mercy after the way your tribesmen massacred my men at
Kerbela?"
The maharajah shrugged his shoulders, but disdained to reply to this
upstart robber chief who styled himself a king.
"Do you know that your life is in my hands?" exclaimed the bandit
fiercely.
"I am not afraid of anything you can do, brigand!" hissed the prince,
and his voice sounded not unlike the angry, venomous snake in the
jungle. Another man might have quailed before those glaring eyes and
those hissing tones. But the German quavered not.
"I will give you a kingly choice," he said, "as you are the scion of
half a hundred kings in your illustrious line."
"I ask no favours of a common Bedouin robber," snarled the other.
"Listen. I will give you the choice of drinking this deadly poison, or
of being dropped ten thousand feet from my aeroplane. Which will you
take?"
The prince shuddered slightly, and glanced up into the cloudless blue,
as though anticipating what such a death might mean, then looked at the
small phial which the brigand held forth in his hand.
"Yes, ten thousand feet!" continued the German, as he noted the anxious
look which overcast the Hindoo's face for an instant, as he gazed up
into the sky. "Then I will loop the machine, and, with your hands
pinioned, you will be thrown out and drop, drop---- Which will you
choose?"
"I will drink the poison," replied the prince, who had now regained his
usual composure.
"Very well. Let him be securely tied to that tree to await our
pleasure," and the maharajah was instantly seized by three or four
powerful Arabs, and secured to a tree some twenty paces away.
"What about his valuables, sir?" asked Carl.
"Have you examined them?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what do they consist of?" asked the king.
"His jewels, his gold and silver plate, studded with rare gems of
priceless value. They are worth five times the value of the specie,"
whispered Carl.
"And what else? You said there were ten boxes."
"Part of his regalia and numerous ceremonial robes."
"They are all confiscated!" announced the monarch. "The sun will set in
another two hours, and at sunset the Indian must die."
"There is nothing else, sir, of much value. All the gold and this
personal property has been secured. Here is the list of passengers, for
there are scarcely any passports held by the strangers," and here Carl,
who had paid a visit to the aerial, whispered something to his chief.
"Good! Then, in your opinion, chancellor, sufficient tribute has now
been obtained from these strangers who have crossed our territory
without permission," said the bandit aloud for all to hear.
"Yes, sir."
"Then let them board the airship at once. She will be cast adrift in ten
minutes."
At this there was a scramble for the gondolas, and very quickly all,
save the captain and the navigating officer, were aboard. The judge and
the colonel, however, prevailed upon by the maharajah's men, descended
again to intercede for the life of the Indian.
"You have taken the man's jewels," said the colonel. "At least you
might spare his life."
"You may have his body," remarked the airman, "but he must first drink
the phial," and a stern look appeared once more in the robber-bandit's
eyes. On this point he was unbending, and remained like adamant.
"The airship is ready now, sir," said the captain, making a final appeal
for the life of the maharajah. "I should like to report, at any rate,
when I do complete my journey, that all my passengers are safe, though I
expect to be two days late with only two engines and this beam wind.
Once more, will you release the Indian?"
"Bring him before me!" commanded the monarch at last, with a bored
expression, and the Indian, still bound hand and foot, was brought
before the pseudo king.
"Unloose his hands," came the order.
"They ask me to spare your life, Indian dog!" continued the robber,
addressing the prince in contemptuous tones. "If you sue for it
yourself, you may have it, otherwise..." and, instead of completing his
sentence, the speaker shook the little phial in the face of the
prisoner.
"I will not ask my life of you, serpent!" hissed the captive. "From you
I will accept no favours. Robbed of my family heirlooms, my jewels and
my household gods, I prefer to die. Give me the poison, and I will show
you how a real prince of the royal line of Indus can die!"
For one awful instant, the desert chief glared at his enemy, who had
dared to refuse his generous offer. Then, in angry tones, he cried:--
"Indian dog! I offered you mercy, but you spurn the gift of Allah and
ask for death. Then take this and drink it!" and he tossed him the
phial.
"Stay!" cried half a dozen voices from amongst the group of passengers.
But their expostulations were in vain, for, with an eagerness to hide
his disgrace in death, which only a proud oriental can show, the
prisoner caught the phial, withdrew the small cork, and drained the
contents before his horrified friends could interfere.
The next moment, the body of the maharajah lay prostrate upon the sands
of the Hamadian desert.
*CHAPTER XIII*
*THE MISSING AIRSHIP*
Horrified and aghast at the foul deed which had been done, the
passengers and crew of the air-liner, who had left the gondolas at the
cry of consternation which went up, now crowded around the fallen
prince. Even those fierce sons of the desert who witnessed the dire act
could not restrain an involuntary shudder, but they merely shrugged
their shoulders, or remarked: "Kismet! It is the will of Allah, the
Compassionate, the Merciful," and after some such invocation, their
piety appeared to be satisfied, for they immediately returned to their
treasure.
The captain and his friends were loud in their protestations and
imprecations after their first and futile attempts to rouse the
prostrate man, for they believed him to be already dead. They glared at
the pseudo caliph, who appeared to be entirely unmoved by the
heart-rending spectacle. And if, at that moment, any weapon of offence
had remained in their possession, it would certainly have been turned
upon the offender, whom they now regarded as a murderer.
But every weapon had been carefully removed from the air-liner and her
complement; even the unmounted machine-gun and the one box of ammunition
placed aboard on her first voyage, were now in possession of the
bandits.
The captain in particular was furious, and he turned upon the German
fiercely, shook his fist at him and cried, "One day you will pay for
this, sirrah! The arm of Britain is long enough to reach you!"
A mocking laugh was the only reply which the German gave. Then, looking
once more at his jewelled watch, he signified that the time for the
airship's departure had almost arrived.
"Three minutes more and I shall cut her adrift," he said.
"But the maharajah?" asked the captain. "What can we do with him; we
cannot leave his body to the vultures."
"Bah! Take him away with you. He will live again in seven hours; it
was only morphine!"
Bewildered, but yet relieved by these words, they quickly ascertained
that the prostrate man was not actually dead, and they hurriedly placed
him aboard the airship and administered emetics.
"Let us get him away at once," urged the Indian judge; "perhaps the
higher altitudes will quickly dissipate the effects of the morphine."
"Are you ready there?" shouted the caliph, who had ridden with his
escort up to the central gondola.
"Yes," came the response.
"Then remember, the next time that you invade my dominions without my
permission you will not escape so easily. As you know to your cost, the
King of the Hamadian desert is able to defend himself and his people,
even from the insults of a great power."
The captain made a slight bow, half ironical, in response to this kingly
assertion, and asked,
"Is there any communication which your majesty would like to have
delivered to my Government?"
"Yes," replied the monarch, drawing from under his loose robe a sealed
packet, which he appeared to have had in readiness for the occasion. It
was addressed as follows:--
"To Colonel John Tempest, D.S.O., M.C..
Chief Commissioner of the British Aerial
Police, Scotland Yard, London,"
and across the top left-hand corner it was marked "_Confidential_," and
also "_To be delivered personally by the Captain of the Air-Liner,
Empress of Britain_."
The skipper, apparently bewildered for a moment by this strange request,
for it seemed to him like a letter from a condemned man to his
executioner, looked the packet over for a few seconds. Noting the great
red seal on the back, he read the imprint embossed on the huge wafer.
It read as follows, and was circular in form:--
"From Sultan von Selim, Air-King of the Hamadian desert," and the crest
was a scorpion, with the solitary word in Latin, "_Scorpio_."
The caliph waited patiently until the captain had examined the exterior
of the packet, and recovered from his amazement, and then said, "Before
you depart, Captain, you must promise me that you will deliver that
packet in person to Colonel Tempest, who is not unknown to me."
The captain did not answer for a few seconds, for he was wondering what
new conspiracy was this. He was wondering also whether the conveyance
of this packet was not after all the real reason for the forced descent
of the airship.
"Do you promise, Captain?" asked his interrogator, looking at him
fixedly.
"Yes, I promise."
"On your honour?"
"On my word of honour, I promise to deliver it."
"Then good-bye. I will 'wireless' the patrols to look out for you."
"Thank you," replied the skipper acidly.
And the next moment, seeing that only his own accomplices and reputed
subjects were left on the ground, the Sultan gave the order, "Let go!"
So the huge cable was slipped, and the leviathan left her moorings at
once. The north-west wind carried her clear of the trees, and, as she
had left nearly two tons of her most precious cargo behind, she rose
rapidly, then started falteringly on her long journey to Cairo as her
two remaining Sunbeam-Maori engines burst into life.
The sun, which had shone with pitiless might upon the Arabian desert
that day, was sinking like a huge red ball beneath the horizon when the
great air-liner, drifting considerably from her course, but still making
progress in her journey towards Cairo, disappeared from the watchers'
view.
With strange impartiality, inexplicable in such a robber-bandit, the
spoil had been divided amongst the Bedouins, who, to their bewilderment
and surprise, were now rich, each one of them, beyond the dreams of
avarice. Their gratitude to Allah, the Giver of all Good, and to the
great white sheik was unbounded. Never before had their greedy eyes
beheld such treasure; never before had they gained a prize so easily;
and some of them even wondered whether, after all, Mohammed had not
appeared to the Faithful once more in the person of the great white
sheik.
Long before midnight, however, the last man, with heavily-laden beast of
burden, had disappeared, swallowed up, as it were, by the very sands of
the desert, so that, when the full round moon approached the meridian
and changed the gold of the desert to silver, not a vestige of man or
beast remained. And of the camp, only a few ashes marked the spot where
once a fire had burned. The _Scorpion_, too, had taken its departure
for an unknown destination, carrying its mysterious crew far, far away
from these burning sands, for the indomitable commander knew only too
well that the captain spoke truthfully when he said that the arm of
Britain was very long, and could even reach to this wild desert land.
Before his departure, however, Heinrich von Spitzer had sent off his
promised message in laconic terms to the Cairo patrols. It ran as
follows:--
"Air-liner _Empress_ with damaged engines crossing desert towards Cairo.
Lat. 29-50 N., Long. 40-25 E. drifting W.S.W. Wireless deranged.
SCORPIO."
"Piece of bad luck, sir!" remarked the commissioner's assistant at Cairo
when he received the message.
"H'm! She carries the Indian mail, too," replied his chief.
"Yes, and a good deal more, sir."
"What else does she carry this trip besides passengers and mails?" asked
the alert commissioner.
"That big loading of specie, sir, for the Bank of England. Nearly a ton
of gold, I believe."
"Phew! And isn't the maharajah of somewhere or other coming on a state
visit to the King also?"
"Yes, by Jove, so he is! We had a message this morning saying that he
would travel by the _Empress_."
"Heaven help us if she comes down in the desert with that cargo. The
Bedouins would soon make short work of it. The authorities rely too
much upon the patrols for these long journeys," said the commissioner.
"We were asked to take particular care over her this trip. The Delhi
patrols accompanied her part of the way, and she was all right up to
mid-day, but she hasn't spoken to us since. I have sent out one or two
messages and have had the patrols ready to go out and meet her, as soon
as I heard again from her, giving her position, sir."
"And you've had no further reply till this message came in?" asked the
chief.
"No, sir."
"By the way, is her wireless damaged as well as her engine? I didn't
notice."
"Yes, sir. The message says: 'Wireless deranged,'" replied the
assistant, re-reading from the aerogram.
"Then who the deuce sent the message?"
"Scorpio---- But who Scorpio is I can't make out. It must have been
some passing airman, for it cannot have been one of our own patrols."
"Phew! The mystery deepens. Get the patrols out at once, and tell them
to take plenty of ammunition with them. It will take a few rounds to
scare off those Bedouin fiends if once they get round a carcase where
there are such pickings."
"I don't think there's much to worry about in that respect. Those Arabs
have a wholesome fear of these air-liners, sir. However, I will get the
machines off at once."
*CHAPTER XIV*
*BETRAYED BY THE CAMERA*
The order was quickly given for the aerial police scouts to start.
Within a few minutes the patrols left Cairo and the adjoining
air-stations, and, spreading out fan-wise, they crossed the Canal, the
Gulf of Sinai, the wild mountainous peninsula which bears the same name,
and the Hedjaz coast, until they entered the desert regions beyond.
Then they commenced their search by moonlight for the battered and
drifting air-liner over the trackless, desert lands which lie between
the 28th and the 30th parallels.
By a pre-arranged system of Very lights, the patrols kept each other
informed of their exact positions during the night, and watched keenly
the eastern horizon for any response which might come from the belated
airship.
Meanwhile the air-liner, fighting manfully against the freshening wind,
made very slow progress, and drifted still further and further away from
her course. The air was full of wireless messages both from Cairo and
the patrols, but she was as yet unable to reply and define her position.
The engineer and wireless operator, however, had been able to receive
some of the messages indistinctly, and they knew at any rate that help
was not far away.
The captain was naturally very much depressed by the turn of events.
Somehow he felt that he had not acted very heroically in the matter. He
had considered the safety of his distinguished passengers perhaps too
much.
"If I had had no passengers to consider, I would have remained aloft
until the whole liner had been shot to ribbons!" he declared to himself,
when he at last retired for a few minutes to his private cabin. "They
should never have taken me alive! But there, my instructions stand--the
safety of the passengers and crew before anything else. I was a fool,
though, to act as I did. I ought to have sent out the S.O.S. to Cairo
without a second's delay, instead of arguing with this brigand; but
there, whoever expected to encounter anything like this?"
Then as his thoughts turned to the wonderful machine, he endeavoured to
docket all the information he could remember about the brigand's
aeroplane, for he knew that he would be expected to recount every detail
when he met the court of enquiry, "which," he murmured, "is as certain
to take place as to-morrow's sunrise.
"Gee whiz! Three hundred miles an hour, and silent engines to boot!
Phew! nobody will believe me, anyhow. Still, I shall have to face the
music, and also to explain why I have lost a hundred thousand pounds of
specie," and the skipper looked down on the white sands below, and for a
moment he almost contemplated suicide.
"I wouldn't mind if I could only bring sufficient information to the
authorities to lead to the speedy capture of the villain, but I can't.
There wasn't time even for a photograph. The bandit was aware of all
that, and I understand that every camera was removed from the airship
before he let us go."
At that instant there came a slight tap at the cabin door.
"Come in!" cried the commander, expecting some further report from the
sick-berth steward about the condition of the maharajah, who, half an
hour ago, was said to be showing signs of recovery, owing to the bracing
air at three thousand feet.
The door opened, and Gadget, the ship's mascot, appeared. Now Gadget's
newest hobby was photography, and through the kindness of the
photographic officer he had become the proud possessor of a small pocket
camera.
"I got her, sir! Thought you'd like to see her ... begging your
pardon," and Gadget, with his dirty, but sunny, smiling face stopped
short and pulled his lock of hair by way of salute, as the captain
pulled him up sharply by snapping out:--
"Got whom? Like to see whom, Gadget?"
"The 'Clutchin' Hand,' sir," explained Gadget, who now found himself
floored for once by his want of English.
"I don't understand, boy?"
"The bloke what played the dirty on us, sir," replied the boy, opening
wide his bright blue eyes, and holding out three wet and recently
developed pocket films.
"Him what got the swag, sir," continued the urchin, endeavouring to make
himself clear.
"Oh, you mean that you photographed the brigand!" replied the skipper as
he caught sight of the negatives, and snatched at them eagerly, a new
light coming into his eyes.
"Yessir!" exclaimed the lad. "Him what said he was a King of the
Desert."
"Gadget!" exclaimed the captain, after a brief examination of the films,
which were really three fine, clearly defined pictures of the
_Scorpion_, showing her in mid-air, when alongside the _Empress_.
"Yessir," replied the excited youth, not yet certain whether he was
going to be hanged or praised for his offence.
"You have shown more wit and skill than anyone on board the airship.
You shall be well rewarded for this, I promise you. How on earth you
managed to get three good snapshots like these, all showing different
angles of the machine, and to hide them away, is beyond me!"
"Thank you, sir! Thought you'd like 'em," and the boy's eyes sparkled
even more than ever as the captain shook him by the hand, and planted
five new, crisp Bradburys therein, then dismissed him.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the captain, "but that little urchin's saved my
reputation. These photographs may prove of more value to the authorities
than the lost treasure. I feel a different man. Here is extraordinary
evidence against the culprit. One photograph shows the fiend actually
firing a burst at the twin engines in the rear gondola, and another the
faces of the two occupants above the fuselage. They will show more
evidence still when they have been enlarged." And the captain, after
carefully drying them, placed them in an envelope and put them into his
inner coat pocket, muttering:--
"Smart little beggar! I wish I hadn't punished him the other day for
smuggling that tobacco aboard."
The captain, who had left strict instructions that he should be called
half an hour before the end of the watch, in order that he might relieve
the navigating officer, was just about to lie down on the couch for a
brief spell, when suddenly another knock at his cabin door startled him,
and immediately after his servant entered and announced: "Seven bells,
sir."
"Already?" exclaimed the captain.
"Yes, sir."
"Has the moon set, yet?"
"Yes, it is quite dark now, sir."
"All right. Tell the navigating officer that I'll be down in one
moment."
At this very instant the telephone bell which connected the cabin with
the navigating gondola rang furiously. Snatching up the receiver, the
captain asked, "What's the matter, Donaldson? Is there another raider
on the starboard bow?"
"No, sir, but there's something very much like a signal flash away in
the north-west."
"Sure it wasn't a shooting star?"
"More like a Very light, sir, but very faint," replied the navigating
officer. "Shall I reply, sir?"
"Yes, give him three red lights. I expect it's one of the patrols
looking for us. I'm coming down now," and the captain replaced the
receiver, and made haste down the corridor which led to the chart and
navigation room.
The next instant three red balls of fire fell from the airship
earthwards in rapid succession, and within a couple of minutes a faint
gleam of greenish light fell like an arc in the north-western sky.
"Yes, the patrols have found us, sure enough," exclaimed the captain,
who had now joined the officer.
After several further exchanges of fire-balls, repeated now from two or
three quarters, the searchers closed in upon the straggler. Then a
rapid dialogue took place by means of the morse lamp, and, when dawn
came, shortly afterwards, no less than six fighting scouts, running at
about a quarter throttle, surrounded the wounded leviathan, and escorted
her towards Cairo.
When the _Empress_ reached that town, she was already twenty-four hours
overdue at London, so the cables and the wireless stations were busy
with messages relating to the missing liner, and with more than one
inquiry as to the safety of her cargo, evidently from the consignees, or
more likely still, from the underwriters.
And when the captain told his story to the Commissioner of Aerial Police
at Cairo there was another mighty stir, and both the cables and the
wireless were busy again, for the whole civilized world was tingling
with excitement to know something tangible about this man of
mystery--the phantom airman. And the story of Gadget's photographs was
told to the world.
*CHAPTER XV*
*DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND*
While the events recorded in the last few chapters were taking place, a
series of adventures not less exciting and perilous had befallen the two
airmen, Keane and Sharpe, in their endeavours to track that ingenious
conspirator, Professor Rudolf Weissmann, in his secret retreat within
the dark recesses of the Schwarzwald.
After their midnight consultation with Colonel Tempest at Scotland Yard,
their instructions were to proceed early next day, by whatever aircraft
was then available, to Germany, and once there to adopt some suitable
disguise, and institute forthwith a most rigorous search for the secret
aerodrome. They were to leave no stone unturned in their efforts to
track down this great German irreconcilable, who had dared to hold a
pistol at the civilized world, and to bring back, if possible, some
tangible clue concerning his two great discoveries.
"Time is short," the colonel said. "Immediate action on our part is
vital. Spare no expense in the venture, and if necessary you must even
proceed to extreme measures to capture this daring outlaw and his
accomplices."
"And what about this phantom aeroplane?" asked Keane. "Apparently it
has already left the Schwarzwald on its piratical expedition."
"It may return, and you must watch for it. Some of those scattered
inhabitants of the Black Forest are sure to have seen or heard something
of it. Its trial trips must have been carried out somewhere in the
vicinity."
"They are a simple and primitive type of people who still inhabit those
forest wastes; wood cutters, lumbermen, makers of little wooden clocks
and musical boxes, most of them, I believe," added Sharpe, who had often
traversed those regions as a British spy during the Great War.
"Then they should be easier to handle," added the commissioner of aerial
police, who had a ready method of brushing away apparent difficulties.
"I am compelled to rely almost entirely upon your efforts. Take your
pocket-wireless telephones with you and a sufficient quantity of German
gold and silver, and start directly you have had a few hours' rest."
"We will get away immediately after breakfast, sir," replied Keane, who
had already made up his mind as to how he should proceed in the matter,
for he had fixed up his jumping-off ground for the Schwarzwald, and also
the type of disguise he intended to adopt.
"Good-bye, both of you, and may good fortune attend you!" said the
colonel.
"Good-bye, sir."
Big Ben was striking three o'clock as they left Scotland Yard and made
for their quarters, which were in that part of London known as The
Adelphi, a quaint, old-fashioned ensemble of buildings of the Georgian
period, overlooking the Thames, not far from the Watergate. A few
minutes later they bade each other good-night, and turned in for a few
hours' sleep before their long flight across England and France.
At seven o'clock they were breakfasting together in a private room
overlooking the river, and discussing the details of their coming
adventure.
"The Schwarzwald!" Sharpe was saying, as he helped himself to another
egg and a rasher of ham. "Where do you think, now, we had better start
from, Captain Keane?"
"Mulhausen," replied the other promptly, for with Keane the initial
procedure was already cut and dried.
"Mulhausen? Capital! I was thinking of Strasburg, but your idea is
better still. Is there a good aerodrome there where we can land?"
"Yes, on the banks of the little river Ill, which runs into the Rhine a
little lower down. And once across the Rhine we are already in the Black
Forest, though we shall still have a long tramp to the place which I
suspect," added Keane, pouring out another cup of coffee.
"Oh, yes, I remember the place; the aerodrome is near the junction of
the Rhine-Rhone Canal," replied his companion.
"You've got it, exactly. Now we must get away; it must already be seven
o'clock, and a fine morning to boot. What says the weather report about
the Channel crossing?"
"Here it is," exclaimed Sharpe, passing a copy of the _Times_ across to
his friend, who turned over the pages and read as follows:--
"Flying prospects for to-day:--South-east England and Continent,
including the Channel crossing, favourable for flying for all types of
machines till mid-day, after that conditions will deteriorate, squalls
and heavy rains will predominate, visibility will be poor, and
conditions will become unsuitable for cross-country flying."
"Good! Then we must get away at once," observed Sharpe, and within
another five minutes they were being hurled along towards Hounslow, the
aerodrome from which this new adventure was to begin.
Forty-five minutes later a couple of S.E.9s, the fastest machines in the
service, rose from the flying ground and steered a course
east-south-east for the Straits of Dover. Thirty-five minutes later,
the necessary signals having been accepted by the Dover patrols, with
throttles wide open, the two daring young aviators rushed the Channel at
one hundred and fifty miles an hour.
The French patrols having been informed by Dover, permitted them to pass
unchallenged. And now changing course till they steered almost due
south-east, they sped onwards, catching now and again a glimpse of the
old battle-front of the days of 1914-1918, where the shell-marked
craters of the Hindenberg line were still visible from the air.
Then they followed the railway line from Laon to Rheims, left the
ancient town of Nancy to their left, and, crossing the Vosges Mountains
and forests a little to the north of Belfort, they dropped down quietly
to the landing ground outside Mulhausen in Alsace, as the clock in the
Market Square struck the hour of noon.
Having left their machines and flying gear in charge of the commandant,
they entered the town, purchased a portable camp outfit, and, dressed as
tourists of the pedestrian and naturalist type, continued their journey,
crossed the Rhine and entered the Schwarzwald, ostensibly to study the
fauna and flora of the Black Forest.
"Phew! I'm tired of this load. Let us camp here for the night, by this
little clearing, where these seldom trodden footpaths diverge," said
Keane, some hours later, as, weary and dusty with his three hours' tramp
through the bracken and the tousled undergrowth, he threw down his heavy
knapsack and nets, and began to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.
Then they lit a small fire of dried twigs, cooked their evening meal,
and lit their pipes.
After a quiet smoke, during which time they carefully re-examined a
survey map of the Schwarzwald, they began to talk in low whispers,
whilst the sun descended amongst the pines on the western heights, over
which they had dragged their weary feet.
"It is my opinion," whispered Keane, "that we are within five miles of
that secret aerodrome."
His companion nodded, almost drowsily, although every faculty was kept
constantly alert.
"It is just possible that one of these paths leads to the very spot, but
it will be necessary to explore them both. We must be extremely
careful, however, for this professor is sure to prove a wily opponent.
I hope, however, some wood-cutter or peasant may pass this way soon, and
that we may learn something from him which will help us," continued the
senior airman.
"What if the wood-cutter should prove to be the professor himself?"
asked Sharpe, with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.
"It is even possible," returned his companion.
"In that case it would be diamond cut diamond, Keane, eh?"
The other shrugged his shoulder at the very thought, and prayed that
such a contingency might not happen, at any rate until something
tangible had first been discovered.
"In three hours it will be midnight," he said. "If no one passes this
way by then, I think we must carry out our search in the dark. Time is
pressing; we must find something within another forty-eight hours, or
poor old Tempest will be at his wit's end, and calling us home again.
He cannot leave us long on this trail."
"The greater the pity. A fortnight is not too long to follow a trail
like this," said Sharpe.
"Yet you had to do things pretty smartly in those dark days of 1917 and
1918, Sharpe."
"Yes, and there was some danger and excitement attached to it, which
sharpened one's wits."
"Never fear! There'll be both before we have finished this trek,"
returned Keane.
"Hist! What was that?" said Sharpe in an undertone, as he caught the
sound of broken twigs.
"Someone approaching," whispered his companion.
They listened acutely now, with every sense keenly alert. Again they
heard the sound, and it seemed to come from the western side of the open
glade, where the last dull glow of the sunset still revealed the edge of
the forest.
The camp fire had died down to a smoulder, but Keane instinctively held
his ground sheet before the dying embers, lest their presence should be
betrayed. He was anxious to learn something of the nature of this
visitor before he revealed himself.
"Bah! It is some creature of the forest," observed Sharpe, after a
moment's hesitation. "A wild boar or a red-spotted deer, most likely."
He was right, for the next moment a series of grunts proceeded from the
spot whence came the sounds, and, as though suddenly startled by the
consciousness of some human presence, the beast, a fine specimen of the
_Sus Scrofa_, with fierce protruding tusks and long stiff bristles,
broke cover, trotted swiftly across the glade, within thirty yards of
the two watchers, and entered the forest on the other side.
"So much for that little incident," muttered Sharpe, as he released his
grip of the Webley pistol, which his right hand had instinctively
grasped, when the dark shadow broke from the margin of the trees.
Keane shook his head as though he disagreed with his companion, and
remarked in a low voice, "The creature was evidently startled or it
would not have fled like that. Its scent is very keen, and as the wind
is blowing from the west, it suspected danger from that quarter."
*CHAPTER XVI*
*THE GHOSTLY VISITANT*
A few moments later the two men were startled by the sound of a human
voice, trolling out the words of some German folk-song, and approaching
from the same quarter towards the clearing.
"This is our man," exclaimed Keane, as he removed the screen from the
fire and stirred the dying embers into a cheerful blaze, piling on more
dried twigs, so that the trees about the glade seemed to dance like
fairies.
"Some woodman or peasant returning from a party," observed Sharpe.
"I wonder where his cottage is," replied his friend; "it must be
somewhere in the neighbourhood."
"We must welcome him to a belated supper. Perhaps this good Rhine wine
will open his lips still more, and he may tell us something about the
birds of the Schwarzwald."
"Particularly the phantom-bird," facetiously observed Keane with a
smile.
Nearer and nearer came the stranger, breaking occasionally into snatches
of song, as though he would frighten away the goblins and weird
creatures of the forest, for of the superstitious peoples of Europe, the
peasantry of the Black Forest are most given to credulous beliefs.
Perhaps this is because no other district of Europe is so rich in quaint
legend, folklore and ghostly tradition.
Now and then the approaching stranger would stop his singing to address
some remark to a companion; evidently some beast of burden trudging
beside him. The next moment the figure of a man, leading a pack-horse
through the forest, suddenly emerged upon the clearing. Catching a
sight of the dancing flames which mounted skyward as one of the airmen
stirred the fire into life, and beholding the dark figures of the two
strangers, the newcomer, suddenly stopped, apparently half-terrified by
the sudden apparition.
"Geistlich!" he muttered, staring with wide-open eyes towards the sudden
flame.
"Guten abend, freund!" exclaimed Keane, wishing to draw the man into
conversation.
The man's fears departed as soon as he discovered that he was addressed
by human beings like himself, for in his first wild flight of fancy he
feared it was far otherwise, and that he had suddenly come upon one of
those forbidden glades, where the sprites and goblins dance after dark.
"Guten abend!" he replied, and, being asked to join the company, made
haste to do so, reining in his loaded horse and tethering him to a
tree-stump close by.
"'Tis late to travel these lonely woods, friend," said Keane in
excellent German.
"Yes, 'tis late, but the moon will soon be up, and then, why, 'twill be
better footing," replied the stranger, whose full, round face and
longing eyes were already directed towards a wicker-covered bottle,
which seemed to hold something good, so that he smacked his lips once or
twice, and in fancy he was already draining the sweet nectar which the
bottle contained.
"Have you far to go?" asked Sharpe.
"Why, yes, 'tis another seven miles to my cottage in the woods."
"Then stay with us an hour until the moon shall rise and clear away the
goblins of the Schwarzwald," urged Keane, who, by this time, had been
able to examine the stranger's face by the light of the fire, and to
read it like a book.
"A simple, credulous fellow, a true peasant of the Schwarzwald,
untouched by the outer world," he told himself. "He should be useful to
us." Then, passing to him the wicker-covered bottle, he said:--
"Good Rhine wine from Bacharach, Hans. Taste it!"
"Ach, from Bacharach on the Rhine,
Comes the finest sort of wine,"
exclaimed the stranger in the rude dialect of the Black Forest, and his
round eyes sparkled as he clutched the bottle, raised it to his lips,
and drank half a pint without stopping to take breath.
"'Tis a long time since I tasted such rich and luscious wine,
gentlemen," said the peasant, handing back the bottle.
"Pray be seated and rest awhile," urged his companions, and nothing
loath to keep such excellent company, Hans, if such was really his name,
sat down by the fire.
"Pray, what brings you to the lonely Schwarzwald, gentlemen? Have you
come to hunt for the wild boar, or to fish the mountain streams?" he
asked, "for I can show you where the biggest fish are to be found, and
where the wild pig rears her litters."
"Butterflies and birds, especially birds," replied Keane, pointing to
his nets, and his neat little boxes for packing specimens.
"Birds? Ach, there is one bird which sometimes flies in these parts
which you will never catch," said the peasant, speaking in lowered
tones, as though half-frightened by his own words.
"Ha! What bird is that?" asked the others.
"Hist!" exclaimed Hans, raising his forefinger, and looking guardedly
around. "It is the phantom-bird!"
"The phantom-bird?" echoed the two airmen, who could scarcely believe
their eyes and ears, as they earnestly regarded this solemn, frightened,
half-childish man, who had evidently seen the very thing they had come
so far to find, but who believed it to be something supernatural.
The two Englishmen glanced at each other. Had they really found someone
who could enlighten them about this mysterious aeroplane, for he could
certainly be referring to nothing else? And at that moment Keane
blessed his lucky star, which had led him to choose these wild forest
regions for their jumping-off ground. Still, they must not appear too
curious, lest they should betray the reason of their presence here.
Keane shook his head as, with an apparently incredulous laugh, and a
sympathetic motion of the hand, he would banish all tales of ghostly
visitants to the realm of limbo. This only had the effect of egging on
the speaker to tell his tale, however.
"Ach, Himmel!" he exclaimed. "Es war geistlich!"
"Did you see it, then?"
"Ya, das hab ich!" returned the other.
"Was it in the day or the night-time when you saw it?" asked Sharpe.
"It was night, about this time, and there was but a half-moon above the
tree tops."
"Were you very much frightened, Hans?"
"Yes, I was scared to death almost. I thought the old man of the
mountains had come for me. I had been to market to sell my little
wooden-clocks, and near this very place the huge grey phantom bird
swooped down, then circled round and round and disappeared there, over
there!" and the peasant, his eyes almost starting out of his head with
terror, pointed away to the east.
"Bah! It was no bird, it was an aeroplane, Hans. You should not have
been frightened," exclaimed Keane, who had been taking particular note
of the direction in which the mysterious machine had disappeared.
"Yes, a ghost-aeroplane!" iterated the Schwarzwalder. "There has never
been anything like it before."
"Did anybody else see it?" queried Sharpe, passing the bottle once again
to Hans, who stayed but a moment to wipe his lips with his sleeve, and
to take another deep drink of the wine.
"Ja, it was seen by Jacob Stendahl the same night, not far from this
very place."
"And who is Jacob Stendahl?" asked Keane.
"He is the woodcutter whose cottage is down by the stream, two miles
away. That path leads to his house. He was terrified; he said it was
an evil omen, and next morning his little Gretchen died."
"And what happened to you, Hans?" asked Sharpe.
"That same night my sow farrowed, and all the litter were dead next
morning," replied the peasant gravely.
A deep silence followed this last remark, and the Schwarzwalder brooded
over his misfortune, and lamented to himself the loss of his fine litter
of young pigs.
The two airmen felt certain now that Hans had really seen the mysterious
aeroplane, and they plied him with a dozen further questions as to the
noise it made in passing, and the speed at which it travelled, and
whether anyone else had seen or heard of it. To some of their questions
Hans could give no coherent answer. He said, however, that very few
people lived in this part of the forest, and parts of it were seldom or
never trodden by human foot. He had spoken to one or two about it, and
they also had either seen or heard of it from someone else, and the
general opinion amongst the Schwarzwalders in that part, was, that it
was one of the dead German airmen, whose spirit came to visit the spot
in a ghost-aeroplane.
"Which of the German aces is it, then, that revisits this place, do they
think?" asked Keane.
"Some say that it is the ghost of Immelmann, who used to come here
before the war to hunt the wild boar; others say that it is the spirit
of Richthofen, but I cannot say," replied Hans.
On the question of speed and noise, however, the peasant declared that
he was certain.
"It must have been a ghost-aeroplane," he said, "because it was silent,
and its speed was like the passing of a spirit when it leaves the body."
A deep silence followed these words, but at the end of a few minutes
Hans, pointing to the east, said:--
"Look, friends, the moon is rising already. It is getting lighter, and I
must go."
Then, untethering his pack-horse, he thanked the strangers for their
hospitality, gave them the direction and situation of his cottage, where
they would be welcome, should they care to visit him during their stay
in the Schwarzwald, and, bidding them adieu, started off on his journey
through the forest.
*CHAPTER XVII*
*THE WATCHERS*
They watched the Schwarzwalder and his beast of burden disappear into
the forest, then for some minutes the two Englishmen, buried in thought,
sat by the embers of the fire. Neither spake to his companion for a
while, as, deep in contemplation, each endeavoured to fathom in his own
mind this secret of the phantom aeroplane, this riddle of the sphinx.
At last Keane addressed his colleague.
"This travelling clock-maker has confirmed our theory, Sharpe," he said.
"Yes, the simple fellow has helped us not a little," replied the other.
"We must continue our search without further delay, lest this talkative
peasant should himself encounter this genius, and unwittingly announce
the presence of two strangers in the forest. That is my great fear
now."
"You don't think this fellow misled us, Keane?"
"Why do you ask? He was too dull-witted to be anything in the nature of
an accomplice," replied the captain.
"Quite so, but he might have been a tool in the hands of this mystery
man," added Sharpe, as a sudden feeling of suspicion shot across his
mind.
"In that case we ought to have followed him, but I scarcely think it
worth while. A dull-witted man of that type would have been too
dangerous to his employer, even when used merely as a tool. The only
danger I anticipate from that quarter, unless I am utterly mistaken, is
that the fellow may encounter someone in the forest who is engaged in
the plot, and thus reveal our presence, as I stated previously,"
observed Keane, as he began to get his traps together, ready for the
march.
"Anyhow, we have learned something from the Schwarzwalder."
"By the way, Sharpe, you might tune up your little wireless pocket
'phone, and ascertain if there are any messages floating around."
"So I will; we might pick up something," replied the junior airman, and
the next moment he climbed into a straggling, low-branched tree,
uncoiled a small aerial, and, starting his little battery, listened
attentively for any stray message that might be floating through the
ether.
"Anything?" asked Keane, coming to the foot of the tree.
"Nothing," remarked the other.
"Then we'll push off."
Five minutes later, having adjusted their packs, collected their nets,
and having stamped out the remains of the fire, they were ready to
start.
"Which path shall we take?" asked Sharpe, for there were two
ill-defined, grass-grown tracks which led away from the clearing. One
led past Jacob Stendahl's cottage, and had been followed by the
Schwarzwalder, and the other, the lesser trodden of the two, led they
knew not where.
"Let us take the one on the right," said Keane, indicating the latter.
"It is more likely to yield us something," and the next moment they were
hidden from sight amid the dense undergrowth of this part of the forest.
Scarcely had they disappeared from view when one of the upper branches
of a tree near to the edge of the clearing suddenly appeared to move,
then to swing loosely for a second, and drop to the ground. Then for a
moment there was silence, save for the call of a nightjar which had been
disturbed, but a moment later a dark shadow debouched from the edge of
the forest and crossed quietly but quickly to where the fire had been
burning a few minutes previously.
A low whistle, repeated twice, brought a similar shadow from the
opposite side of the clearing, and the two indistinct, but human shapes,
met each other face to face.
"Who were they, Professor?" asked the second arrival of the first.
"Himmel! Ich weiss nicht, Strauss," replied his companion, who was none
other than the renowned Professor Rudolf Weissmann, "but I fear that
they portend us no good."
"Let us examine the ground to see if they have left any clue behind."
So for the next few minutes the professor and his mechanic searched the
ground carefully for any little souvenir which the travellers might have
left behind them. And whilst they searched, they talked in low, but
eager whispers.
"Did you hear that half-witted Schwarzwalder talking aloud about the
_Scorpion_?" asked the professor.
"Yes. He called it a phantom-bird, did he not?" replied Strauss. "I
heard nearly all he said, he spoke so loudly and coarsely."
"Could you hear what the others said?"
"Not a word; they spoke so quietly, save once or twice when they spoke
to the clock-maker."
"Nor could I, and that is what makes me so suspicious," returned
Weissmann.
"They spoke good German, though," ventured the mechanic.
"Bah! Of course they would. Nevertheless, it's my firm opinion that
they're foreigners, and that they're here for some special reason."
"And that reason is?"
"To find out about the _Scorpion_," snarled the mathematician.
"Ach!" exclaimed the other; "the _Scorpion_ is two thousand miles away."
"Then their next business is to find the aerodrome," said the professor.
"Blitz! that they'll never do except by accident. Think of those live
wires waiting for them if they get within a hundred yards of it. We
have found six dead men there already; I don't want to dig any more
graves," returned Strauss.
They had continued the search for fully ten minutes, and the professor,
occasionally flashing his pocket torch, was carefully examining the long
grass within a radius of some twelve of fifteen feet of the spot where
the fire had been. Wise man that he was, he carried out his final
investigation to the leeward of the fire, trusting that the breeze might
have carried some paper fragment, used in lighting a pipe or starting
the fire, in that direction. Nor was he disappointed. He was just about
to conclude his search, however, when his sharp eyes caught sight of a
piece of half burnt and twisted paper hidden away amongst the longer
grass.
"Donnerwetter!" he exclaimed under his breath, as he flashed his torch
upon the paper for a second. "I thought so; here is evidence enough for
an execution."
"What is it, mein herr?" asked the mechanic, hastening to his side.
"Do you see that?" said his companion, untwisting the paper once again
and flashing a light upon it.
"Ja! ja!" replied the other as he strained his eyes in the attempt to
decipher the handwriting on the half-burnt sheet. "But I cannot
understand it, for it is in a foreign language."
"It is part of a small fragment of an envelope, and the writing, which
is in English, is certainly almost undecipherable, but I can distinguish
the letters '...eane'."
"Ach, Himmel! That is Keane!" replied Strauss. "He is one of the
aerial police, is he not?"
"You are right, Fritz. This letter was addressed through the English
post to Captain Keane, one of Tempest's best men, if not indeed his most
brilliant 'brain-wave,'" hissed the professor.
"Donner und blitzen! Then he has come here to search for the
_Scorpion_, and the aerodrome."
"Yes, but look, he only left London a few hours ago, for here is the
London postmark in the corner, bearing yesterday's date."
"And his companion? Who is he?" asked the mechanic.
"It must be that other scout pilot, Sharpe; they work together. But,
mark my word, Friedrich Strauss, they are mistaken if they think to find
an easy victim in Professor Rudolf Weissmann. I'll teach them to track
me like a murderer through the Schwarzwald. They have come to the Black
Forest, and here they shall stay." And for once, the quiet,
mild-mannered professor jerked out his words with unusual vehemence.
The mechanic saw that his chief was deeply agitated by this sudden
discovery, which confirmed all his recent fears, and to allay his
feelings, he said,
"But they will never find the aerodrome, Professor, or, if indeed they
find it, they will never enter it alive; think of the preparations you
have made for all uninvited guests," and the speaker shuddered, for he
knew something of the terrors of that "death-circle" in the lonely
forest.
"Bah! it is my secret they want, the secret of that mysterious power
which drives the _Scorpion_."
"Uranis?" ventured the other.
The professor nodded, for he regarded it as the greater success of the
two. Without it the _Scorpion_ would be useless; with it a dozen
_Scorpions_ could be built, once the facilities were provided.
Unfortunately the discovery had been effected too late to win the war
for the Fatherland. Besides, he had not received the encouragement from
the government that he had deserved, and his soul was consequently
embittered.
"Come," he said at last, "we must get back to the aerodrome and watch
for these half-witted Englishmen. Once there we can afford to laugh at
them. They will soon be held in a vice. But I must send a further
message to the _Scorpion_ out on the Hamadian plains, hinting how
matters stand. After that communications may have to cease for a while.
As for these death-hunters, they will find out presently that they are
up against something far more terrible than anything which old Jacob
Stendahl or the wood-cutter have ever imagined in their wildest fancy.
The secret of the Schwarzwald is not for them. I hold the master-key,
Fritz, and when I die that master-key will be broken."
And the two men, who had been aware of the presence of the Englishmen
ever since they entered the forest, and had watched them accordingly,
now moved off in the same direction which the latter had taken half an
hour before.
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*"LIVE WIRES"*
Matters in the Schwarzwald were now rapidly nearing a climax; the final
contest between German brains and English wit could not much longer be
delayed. For the moment Keane and Sharpe, unknown to themselves, were
enmeshed in the network of a deathly trap. Nothing less than a miracle,
or something approaching the same, could now set them free from their
perilous position. One thing was certain, and that was that this clever
but unscrupulous mathematician and engineer, who was now their declared
enemy, would not hesitate to adopt the most extreme measures to get rid
of his unwelcome visitors. Unfortunately his power, which almost
approached the supernatural, made him a dangerous and a wily foe.
It was now past midnight, but the two Englishmen, who had left the track
some time before at a point where its course was suddenly changed, and
had continued their journey by the aid of a luminous compass, and the
uncertain light of the moon, came at last to another halt.
"Let us stay here a while, Sharpe," his companion had whispered. "I
have a strong premonition of some impending danger."
"The deuce you have!" remarked Sharpe, who well knew what this meant in
a man like Keane, whose psychic faculties were not to be sneered at.
"Yes. I cannot explain it, but there is some hidden danger right ahead
of us; of that I am as certain as that we are in the Schwarzwald. We
had better lie down a while and await developments quietly."
Nothing loath, Sharpe unfastened his shoulder straps, slid his equipment
quietly to the ground, and laid himself down beside his companion.
For the moment all was quiet. The moon was hidden behind a bank of
clouds, and it was therefore very dark, but sounds travel far in the
night air of the forest, and when they conversed, they spoke only in
whispers.
"It may be," remarked Keane, "that the spot we seek is just in front of
us, though I cannot see any glade or clearing as yet; it is too dark."
"Is it likely that there are any booby-traps hereabouts, set by this
wily professor?" asked his companion.
"I cannot say; he may have some outer system of defence."
"Or even a system of ground signals to announce the approach of
strangers, whose presence might be undesirable to him," added Sharpe.
"It is possible," whispered Keane, whose mind was actively engaged in
preparation for eventualities, in view of his inexplicable premonitions.
Suddenly he started and touched his comrade lightly with his raised
forefinger.
"Hist!" he said, in a voice which could not have carried further than a
couple of yards Then he carefully raised his head, and, turning his eyes
towards the thicket through which they had come, he tried to read the
secret which it contained. His alarm was justified, yet was he
mystified not a little, for the more immediate danger seemed to come
from behind.
"Can you hear it, Sharpe?"
"Yes, the same crackling of twigs; another wild boar," remarked his
friend facetiously.
Keane shook his head, for his sensitive ears had told him that the
footsteps which he had heard were those of human beings. Nor was he
mistaken, for a moment later they both heard distinctly, not merely the
crackling of twigs and the rustle of the bracken under heavy footfalls,
but voices, human voices, conversing in a guarded and careful manner.
"None of your Schwarzwald peasants this time," he murmured, fingering
his Webley already, for he instinctively felt that this time they were
beset by danger both before and behind. And indeed, these two men,
during all their adventures in the secret service during the war, were
never in more deadly peril than at this moment, as they were soon to
learn.
Scarcely daring to breathe, much less to whisper now, the two Englishmen
watched furtively for the coming of the strangers, who were now less
than a score of yards away, but were approaching very stealthily, as
though they were searching for something on the ground.
"Who can they be?" wondered Keane. "And what can they be searching for?"
"Poachers," Sharpe was thinking, "merely poachers, searching for their
booby-traps."
Nearer and nearer came the dark shadows, and both the airmen had their
Webleys trained on them now. In that moment they might have shot them
down easily, and before long they would regret they had not done so.
But that is not the English way, for the ordinary Englishman would give
even a dog his chance, as the saying goes. Still, there are dogs and
dogs, and sometimes human dogs are worse than the four-footed ones. But
the Englishmen were uncertain; they did not know what world-wide
conspirators were these two men. They did not know what fearful deeds
would happen even that day on the Hamadian desert, two thousand miles
away, but all of it engineered from this spot, and made possible by
these two men. And as they did not know, they did not fire, but waited.
"Gott in Himmel, where does that _verdammt_ live wire begin?" asked one
of the men in a low but vehement voice. It was the professor himself,
searching for one of his own man-traps.
Sharpe glanced at Keane, but the other motioned him not to fire.
"We're learning something, old man!" he whispered. "This is the gateway
to the aerodrome."
The two men had passed them now, passed within six yards, and yet had
missed them. They were now groping a little way ahead, looking for
secret signs and marks lest they should be hoist upon their own petard.
"Donner und Blitzen! Have you found it yet, Fritz?" called the
professor a little louder to his friend.
"Here it is, Professor! Be careful ... there are six wires already laid
for those _verdammt_ Englishmen, Keane and--what is the name of the
other?"
"Sharpe!" rapped out the professor, as though he had known the man all
his life.
At these words the two Englishmen looked at each other in blank
amazement. And before their astonishment could subside, the opportunity
which had been given to them of ridding the world of two great
conspirators had passed.
"One--two--six!" they heard the mechanic say, as he helped the professor
over the deadly maze, scarcely fifteen yards in front of them, and then
their dark forms had merged into the trees and disappeared, their voices
becoming fainter and fainter.
"Great Scott!" gasped Sharpe, when he recovered from his astonishment;
"we've walked right into the hornets' nest."
"We should have done if we'd gone another fifteen yards," replied Keane,
wiping the perspiration from his forehead.
"Fortunate you had that presentiment of impending danger," said his
friend.
"We should have been lying dead and half grilled over his deadly wires
but for that strange, weird feeling of mine," replied Keane.
"But there, after all our attempts at concealment, he knows all about
us."
"Even our names seem familiar to him," remarked the senior airman,
greatly puzzled.
"I cannot understand it," replied the other. "Who can have given him
this information?"
"Who indeed?" asked Keane. "It is as great a mystery as the other
matter."
"Can it be the woodcutter or the clockmaker, do you think, for Hans is
sure to have called at Jacob Stendahl's cottage and told him the news."
But Keane shook his head, as he remarked: "Neither Hans nor yet the
woodcutter could possibly have told the professor our names. This evil
genius must have other sources of information at his command. Possibly
he has an agent at Mulhausen aerodrome, or even at Scotland Yard. To a
man like this, a thousand ways are open. I cannot say, but this I know,
we are on the edge of the biggest mystery I have ever encountered."
"And we might easily have shot him. Bah! it would have been better to
have fired, Keane," added Sharpe somewhat bitterly. "Cannot we follow
him now?"
"No!" replied his companion, firmly. "It is better as it is."
"Why?" demanded the other.
"Rest content, Sharpe," said Keane. "To-day we have discovered the
aerodrome; to-morrow we will capture it."
*CHAPTER XIX*
*THE DEVIL'S WORKSHOP*
Patiently, now, the two Englishmen waited for the dawn. Till then it
would not be safe to move in any direction. As they lay in the long
bracken and ferns, however, they were able to converse quietly, and to
discuss their plans for the coming day. The spot they had come so far
to seek was now before them. The live wires, just a few feet ahead of
them, had been duly located, and now that the danger was known, it was
not insuperable. It was an added mystery to them, nevertheless, how
this wizard secured sufficient voltage to make these wires so deadly.
They assumed, however, that powerful dynamos, worked by this same silent
energy that propelled the aeroplane, were at work somewhere near this
spot.
Dawn came at last; a faint yellow streak lit up the horizon away to the
east. Then a crimson flush revealed the distant tree-tops, and the moon
and stars faded away. A hundred songsters awoke the stillness of the
forest, for another day had dawned, and the sable curtain of night
rolled westward.
"See, there is a clearing fifty yards ahead," were Keane's first words
to his companion.
"It is the aerodrome, the secret aerodrome!" replied Sharpe, peering
through the trees.
"Let us work round a little way and find the workshop or hangar. I
fancy we shall find it on the other side of the glade."
"Mind those beastly wires, then!" replied Sharpe, as he began to crawl
through the dense undergrowth after his companion, who had already
started to make a circuit of the outer defences on his hands and knees.
The next half-hour was spent in cautious creeping and crawling just
outside those death-dealing wires. At the end of that time, however,
Keane made a discovery. He had completed about half the circuit, when,
peering carefully through the trees, he fancied he could make out the
camouflaged fabric which covered some temporary building. So carefully
was this place hidden amongst the trees that he had to look twice or
three times before he could make up his mind that he was not mistaken.
At last he convinced himself that he had located the workshop, else, why
should the place have been so carefully hidden. Waiting for his
companion to reach him, he pointed to the object and whispered, "There
it is, not thirty yards away!"
"Shall we get over these wires, and rush the place?" asked Sharpe.
"No. Let us continue our journey until we have completed the circuit.
We may make another discovery yet. Come along; fortune favours the
brave."
They had scarcely crept another hundred yards, however, when a rustling
in the leaves, accompanied by a snort, revealed the presence of another
wild boar, which had evidently scented their presence.
"Confound the pig!" muttered Sharpe, who was afraid the sounds might
lead to their premature discovery. But Keane thought otherwise, for, to
his quick mind and instructive genius, this trifling event seemed
providential.
"The pig!" he whispered, pointing to the spot whence came the occasional
snorts of the angry, disturbed creature.
"What of it?" queried Sharpe.
"Let's get to the other side of the beast and drive it against the
wires."
"And roast the brute alive for the benefit of their breakfast, I
suppose."
Keane laughed silently, and wondered how far the conspirators used this
live wire to keep themselves supplied with food. He knew, however, that
a wild boar on the live wires would soon bring out the inmates of that
mysterious house in the woods, and would sufficiently distract their
attention to give the airmen their opportunity.
The next moment, having made a sufficiently extensive circuit, so as to
get the wild boar between them and the wires, they began closing in on
the beast, an operation not devoid of peril, should the boar decide to
attack them. Fortune favoured them, however. The angry beast, noting
the approach of some unseen enemy, by the movements of the tangled
undergrowth, half frightened and half infuriated, made off in the
direction of the clearing, uttering further snorts. The next moment he
had touched the first of those deadly wires, and, with a wild scream
which rang through the forest, he leapt into the air, then fell back
quivering but dead across that fatal grill.
"Back--back for your life!" hissed Keane, as he made haste back to the
spot where they had sheltered, close to the camouflaged hangar.
The next instant the watchers saw the professor and his assistant rush
out of the little building, towards the place where the animal lay right
across the first four wires. In their excitement they both seemed to
have forgotten the presence of the two Englishmen in the woods during
the previous evening, for they were both unarmed. Or perhaps it was
that they imagined them to be the present victims of their cunning.
"Hoch! Another royal boar for the larder, Fritz!" exclaimed the
professor. "We shall have the winter's supply complete very soon."
"Gut, mein herr!" came the answer.
"Better go back and switch off the current, so that we can take it
away," urged the chief, and, staying but a second to see the royal
victim, the assistant complied.
This was what the two Englishmen had been waiting for. The moment of
action had come at last. Gripping their pistols, they made ready to
advance and take possession of the hangar during the absence of the
inmates.
"Sind Sie fertig, Friedrich?" called the professor.
"Ja, das bin ich!" replied the other, as he left the workshop, and
rejoined his companion.
"Come along, the wires are dead now," whispered Keane, and, keeping well
within the shadows of the trees, the two men crept forward, gained the
rear of the structure, then cautiously worked their way round and
entered the hangar unobserved.
One glance about the well-fitted workshop sufficed. There were no
further occupants, and they lowered their pistols. Sharpe at once
sprang to the lever which regulated the powerful electrical current and
clutched it. In another instant the two men without would have paid the
extreme penalty, for they would have been instantly killed by their own
evil device, but Keane stopped him:--
"Don't!" he said. "We have much to learn. The professor at least must
be taken alive, if possible. The secret he holds is too precious to be
lost. Let us hide!"
"Where can we hide?" asked the other, somewhat disappointed, and amazed
at the further risks which his companion appeared willing to take in
order to gratify an insatiable curiosity. "The tables may be quickly
turned upon us."
"We can shoot them as a last resort, if that is necessary," urged Keane,
who knew the priceless value of the secrets which this place contained.
"Hist! They are coming."
"This way!" whispered Keane, and he drew his companion into a little
recess, which had evidently been curtained off for the mechanic's
sleeping berth.
They had barely withdrawn themselves into this narrow apartment when the
two men entered, dragging the carcase of the wild boar with them.
"Leave it there for a moment, Strauss. The message from the Rittmeister
is due. I must also send him that other message again, as the first has
not been acknowledged," were the professor's first words.
"Yes, sir. Shall I start the dynamos again?" asked the assistant.
"Perhaps you'd better, but first hand me that message book and the
secret code."
The next moment the professor was busy at the wireless keys,
transmitting some message to the far deserts of Arabia.
"By all the saints," gasped Keane, "he's sending a message to the
raider, the _Scorpion_, as he calls it. I must have that secret code at
all hazards. I wonder what he is saying?"
For some time the chief conspirator was engaged coding and decoding
messages at the little table where the aerials, carefully hidden amongst
the trees without, had their terminus. And in that moment Keane thanked
his stars that he had waited for this, for he saw new possibilities
opening out before him. Once in possession of this mechanism and the
necessary codes, he could communicate at will with the distant raider,
who was threatening the whole civilised world by his almost superhuman
powers of brigandage. He could recall the raider also, and make his
capture certain, once he could secure absolute possession of this little
citadel.
For the present he could do nothing but wait, however, and see how
matters developed. Once, the assistant came quite close to their
hiding-place, and both men again gripped their Webleys. At this moment
even to breathe seemed fraught with danger. If the man should enter the
little apartment, he must die, and the professor must be immediately
threatened with the same penalty unless he surrendered.
"Ha! So far so good!" gasped Keane, as the mechanic recrossed the
workshop without actually entering their hiding-place.
"Teufel!" spluttered the professor. "Here is that fool Tempest trying
to communicate with those two _verdammt_ Englishmen who are still
roaming about in the Schwarzwald. He little knows that we possess his
secret code."
"Himmel! What does he say?" asked the other.
"Wants them to report progress at once, and let him know how matters
stand," said Weissmann in a mocking tone. "He says he will come over
himself, if necessary."
"Donnerwetter! Ask him to come, Professor. He might as well grill with
his accomplices on the live wires, for that's where they'll be before
the day is out, unless they abandon their futile search," replied
Strauss.
"This fiend is a perfect wizard!" thought Keane, and his glance
signified as much to Sharpe. "How he manages to get hold of these
secrets is beyond me. And yet, there is a defect in his mad science,
for he does not know that we're here, and that his own life is in our
hands. Fool that he is, he will soon learn that the wit of an
Englishman is more than a match for his boasted knowledge," and here the
senior airman carefully withdrew a cartridge from his Webley and
inserted another, silently--a cartridge that had a specific mission.
His companion watched him and repeated the action with his own weapon,
for he understood.
"Blitz! but I've half a mind to send for Tempest," mused the professor,
who was still toying with the keys of the wireless instrument.
"Send for him, Professor," urged his accomplice. "Those Englishmen are
getting too close to be pleasant. The British army of occupation will
be carrying out a thorough search of the Schwarzwald if these men get
away, and then where shall we be?"
"We are in the neutral zone, though," replied the other.
"But we're contravening the Peace Regulations, sir, and the English will
not stand upon ceremony. It will be too late should these men get
away."
"Donner und Teufel!" rasped out the angry professor. "Don't speak to me
of the Peace Regulations. There will be no peace till Germany regains
all and more than all she has lost. I will send for this Commissioner
of Aerial Police, for I believe that he and his two accomplices, Keane
and Sharpe, are the only ones so far who know anything that matters
about the secret of the Schwarzwald," and he began to tap the keys,
reeling out the words as he sent them.