The Phantom Airman

The chief of the aerial police leaned back in his chair and groaned.

"Three hundred miles an hour!" he gasped; "but the silent aeroplane idea is a fallacy. It is impossible with any type of internal-combustion engine. It must either have been too high up for the good people of Delhi to hear it, or its engines must have been shut off, or well throttled down. Bah! I know too much about aeroplanes to swallow that." Then rounding upon Jones, who was standing by awaiting instructions, he said sharply:–

"Did that second message go out to Keane?"

"Yes, sir."

"And there's still no reply from him?"

"Nothing whatever, sir."

"H'm. I cannot understand it. Send it out again by wireless telephone; he may be on his way back by aeroplane now, and possibly within reach."

"Right, sir," and Jones disappeared to stab the ether waves again in search of Keane. At that moment the telephone bell on the Commissioner's desk rang. It was the Home Secretary asking for Colonel Tempest, for the same messages concerning the aerial brigand had reached him.

"Hello, Tempest; is that you?"

"Yes; who is that?"

"Lord Hamilton, speaking from the Home Office."

"Oh, yes, my lord."

"I say, Tempest, what is this news just to hand about aerial highwaymen romping half round the British empire, destroying wireless stations, and burning out the big oil tanks along the All-Red Route? I thought you had all these aerial criminals well in hand. There'll be a deuce of a row about all this when Parliament meets in two days' time."

"Well, er–we're doing our best to deal with it, sir, but it will take time to lay these fellows by the heel, I fear."

"Have you got the matter in hand?"

"Yes, sir."

"What have you done? I shall be bombarded with questions shortly; in fact, the Colonial Secretary's here now. He's complaining that the routes are not sufficiently well patrolled. What steps have you taken to deal with these marauders?"

"I've wirelessed to all the aerial stations, to get their fastest scouts out all along the line at once to look for these bandits, and I'm staying on here all night expecting news every moment."

"Very well. Keep me informed of everything that happens. It's becoming very serious. You have full powers to deal effectively with these criminals, and they may be shot down at sight if they don't respond to signals."

Then, as the angry minister rang off, another tap was heard at the door, and the imperturbable Jones entered once more, and announced:

"Message from Keane and Sharpe came in whilst you were speaking on the telephone, sir."

"Good!" ejaculated Tempest, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow, for he had expected something much worse from the Home Secretary. "What does the message say?"

"They received my last message, sir, and are on their way home by the fastest aeroplane. They are due at Hounslow aerodrome at midnight."

"Excellent! What time is it now, Jones?"

"It wants ten minutes to midnight, sir, and I have sent out the fastest car to meet them and bring them straight here. They should be here in half an hour, sir."

"Have you told them at Hounslow?"

"Yes, sir, and they have already got out the coloured lights and the ground flares."

"You have done well, Jones, but you had better not leave the office to-night. I'm very sorry, but I may want you. This is urgent business; we're up against something this time, and unless Keane and Sharpe have found something out, we're going to be beaten."

"I'll stay, sir, but what about you? This is your third night-sitting, and you've had nothing since lunch. Shall I order supper for you?"

"Oh, thanks, Jones, but I'd forgotten. Yes, you may order me coffee and a sandwich, and get something for yourself. You're getting the strain as well, and I don't want you to break down."

When left alone, Colonel Tempest once more began to pace the soft-carpeted room, much as a captain paces the bridge when his thoughts are unduly disturbed by some untoward event during the watch of the second officer. Every other minute he consulted his watch, and wondered why the time passed so slowly. Twice he rang down to the lobby attendant and asked if Captain Keane had arrived, and twice the same answer was returned.

Then he looked at the maps on the wall, and followed with his finger the trail of the All-Red Route which the aerial liners followed, linking up the empire and half the world. Now and again he would glance shrewdly at the large map of Germany, as a skipper eyes the weather quarter when a storm is brewing. Occasionally he would murmur half aloud:–

"A silent engine … three hundred miles an hour. Gee whiz! but they have beaten us two to one. We shall never catch them."

Then a slight sound caught his ears from outside the great building. The soft purr of an approaching Rolls-Royce motor and the sharp blast of a Klaxon horn followed.

"At last!" he cried. "Here they come!"

CHAPTER IV

A MIDNIGHT CONSULTATION

The next moment the door burst open and two men in flying helmets and leathern coats entered the room, and saluted the Colonel. Without any ceremony the latter greeted them warmly, almost joyously, for their cheerful presence gave almost instant relief to his over-burdened mind.

"Good evening, Keane. Good evening, Sharpe," he exclaimed, stepping forward and gripping each of them warmly by the hand.

"Good evening, sir."

"Now, have you discovered anything?" began the chief, without waiting for them to divest themselves of their heavy gear.

Keane looked at the Commissioner for a second or two and then answered:–

"Yes, and no, Colonel."

"H'm. That means something and nothing, I presume."

"Exactly, sir," continued Keane, who acted the part of spokesman. Then, speaking more solemnly, and in lowered tones, he continued, "We are up against something abnormal; I had almost said something supernatural. When you recalled us we were hot on the trail of the man who, in my opinion, is behind this conspiracy."

"You mean this Professor Weissmann?" added the chief of the aerial police.

Keane nodded.

"I thought so. This man is evidently an evil genius of very high mental calibre, and he has determined, out of personal revenge for the defeat of Germany, to thwart the Allies, and in particular Great Britain."

"He is a master-mind, and a highly dangerous personality; dangerous because he is so clever. And now that he has secured a few daring airmen for his tools, there is no end to the possibilities which his evil genius may accomplish before he and his crew are run to earth," replied Captain Keane.

"I know it, I know it–look here!" and the colonel handed him the batch of cables and wireless messages which showed how the Scorpion had already got to work.

"H'm! and there will be worse to follow," added the airman after he had glanced through the list.

"Now, tell me briefly what you have found, Keane, after which we must get to work to devise some immediate plan to thwart these aerial brigands. But first take off your flying gear, and sit by the fire, for you must be hungry, tired and numbed after that cold night ride." Then, ringing for his attendant, he ordered up more strong coffee and sandwiches.

"Thanks, Colonel, I will not refuse. It was indeed a cold ride, and we had no time to get refreshments before leaving the aerodrome at Cologne this evening," said Sharpe, as he divested himself of his heavy gear, sat by the fire and enjoyed the coffee which soon arrived.

A few moments later, the three men were engaged in serious conversation, although the hour of midnight had long since been tolled out by Big Ben.

"You sent me," Keane was saying, "to discover the whereabouts of this great German engineer and man of science, this brain wave whose perverted genius is likely to cost us so dear."

"And you were unable to find any trace of him?" interposed the chief.

"Well, we were unable to come into contact with him, for we found that since peace was concluded he had vacated his professorial chair at Heidelberg University, where he had been engaged for some considerable time, not only on some mechanical production, but in an attempt to discover some unknown force, evidently a new kind of highly compressed gas to be used for propulsive purposes."

"Had he been successful?"

"That, it was impossible to find out during our short stay over there," replied Keane, "but I discovered from someone who had been in close touch with him just about the time peace was signed, that he had expressed himself in very hopeful terms."

"Was he a very communicative type of man, then, did you learn?"

"No; on the contrary, he seldom spoke of his work, but on this occasion, when he communicated this information, he was very much annoyed at the defeat of Germany, and considered that his country had been betrayed into a hasty peace."

"And what happened to him after that?" asked the colonel.

"Shortly afterwards he disappeared completely, taking with him all the apparatus connected with his research work, also a highly skilled mechanic who had been specially trained by him for a number of years. But he left not a trace of himself or his work," said the captain, pausing for a moment to light a cigarette.

"Do you think he is acting under any instructions from his authorities?"

"No, certainly not; he distrusts his present Government entirely, and considers them traitors to the Fatherland."

There was another brief silence, whilst the three men, wrapt in deep thought, sat looking into the fire, or watched the rings of tobacco smoke curling upwards to the ceiling. At last, Captain Sharpe observed:–

"A powerful intellect like that did not suddenly disappear in this way without some ulterior motive, Colonel Tempest."

"Obviously not," returned the latter briefly, for he was deep in contemplation, and his mind was searching for some clue. At length he turned to the senior captain and said:–

"This silent engine theory, Keane, what do you think of it?"

Keane shook his head doubtfully, and the colonel handed to him once more the recent wireless message from Delhi, adding merely:–

"Do you think it possible?"

"Scarcely," replied Keane carefully, "but with a master mind like this, one never knows. It will be necessary for you to consult the most eminent professors of science and chemistry at once."

"I intend to visit Professor Verne at his house first thing to-morrow, or rather to-day, for it is already morning."

"But the aeroplane," added Sharpe, who had been perusing the Delhi message, "this also must have been specially built for this new gas."

"Given the one, the other would naturally follow, and would be the lesser task of the two, for this man is a great engineer as well," said Keane.

"It is a deep well of mystery," continued Tempest after another pause; "but something must be done at once. To-morrow the morning papers will be full of it. Next day Parliament meets, and questions will be asked, and it will all come upon us. I shall have to meet the Home Secretary as soon as I have interviewed Professor Verne, and Lord Hamilton will not be easily satisfied. The public will also be clamouring for information on the subject, and they will have to be appeased and calmed. The Stock Exchange will begin to talk also, and to demand compensation for the companies whose properties have been damaged. Insurance rates, marine and otherwise, will be raised, and Lloyd's underwriters will not fail to make a fuss. Now, gentlemen, what steps can we take to deal with these raiders in the immediate future?"

Send us after this mystery 'plane on fast scouts with plenty of machine-gun ammunition," urged Sharpe.

"I cannot spare you for that, but I have already ordered strong patrols of aerial police to search for the brigands. I must have you here or somewhere within call. At any rate, I cannot let you go further than Germany. It may be necessary to send you there again."

"On what account, sir?" asked Keane.

"To find the aerodrome which this raider calls 'home,' for he must have a rendezvous somewhere if only to obtain supplies and repairs."

"And that secret aerodrome must be somewhere in Germany, hidden away in some out-of-the-way place," ventured Sharpe.

"But in what part of Germany?" asked the commissioner.

"Let me see," cried Keane, rising to his feet, and walking across the room to where the large map of Germany hung upon the wall–"why, it must be in the Schwarzwald!"

"The Schwarzwald!" exclaimed the other two.

"Yes, it is by far the best hiding-place in the whole country. One may tramp for days and never see a soul. It must be somewhere in the Schwarzwald."

"Then to the Schwarzwald you must go to-morrow, adopting whatever disguises you desire, and you must find this hidden spot where the conspiracy has been hatched," concluded the colonel.

CHAPTER V

THE AERIAL LINER

The airship liner, Empress of India, was preparing to leave her moorings, just outside the ancient city of Delhi, for Cairo and London. This mammoth airship was one of the finest vessels which sailed regularly from London, east and west, girdling the world, and linking up the British Empire along the All-Red Route. She had few passengers, as she carried an unusually heavy cargo of mails for Egypt and England, and a considerable amount of specie for the Bank of England. Several persons of note, however, figured amongst her saloon passengers, including the Maharajah of Bangapore, an Anglo-Indian judge, and a retired colonel of the Indian army.

She was timed to depart at mid-day, and during the morning mailplanes had been arriving from every part of India with their cargoes of mail-bags, already sorted for the western trip.

The great mammoth now rode easily with the wind, moored by three stout cables to the great tower which rose above the roof gardens of the air-station. An electric lift conveyed the passengers and mails to the summit of this lofty tower, from whence a covered-in gangway led to the long corridors which lined the interior of the rigid airship.

"Have all the engines been tested?" the captain asks of the chief engineer, as he comes aboard with his navigating officer.

"Yes, sir."

"All the passengers aboard?" he asks next of the ground officer.

"All except the maharajah, Captain, and I expect him any moment."

"Excellent," replied the skipper. "There's a good deal of bullion aboard from the Indian banks, I hear, and the rajah himself is likely touring a lot of valuables with him, I understand, as he is to attend several court functions at St. James's Palace."

"Yes, sir. I hope you won't meet that aerial raider," replied the ground officer.

"Poof! What can he do? He can't board us in mid-air! Besides, I hear that the aerial police are on his track, and that all their fast scouts are patrolling the mail routes."

"Yes, you'll have an aerial escort with you for the first two hundred miles, Captain. They'll pick you up shortly after you leave here."

"Absolutely a waste of time. The police could be much better employed in searching for these rascals."

"Well, perhaps you're right," replied the ground official. "They certainly cannot board you in mid-air, as you observe, and they cannot set you on fire as they did the early Zeppelins, for helium won't burn."

This conversation was interrupted by shouts and cheers which reached the speakers from down below.

"Hullo! here comes the rajah. I must go down and welcome him," said the captain, as a fanfare of trumpets announced the arrival of the great Indian chief.

Then, with all the ceremonial and pomp of the East, the Maharajah of Bangapore was welcomed aboard the luxurious air-liner, and, accompanied by his personal attendants, he was shown with much obsequiousness to his private saloon. His baggage, containing treasures worth a king's ransom, was likewise transferred, under the supervision of his chamberlain, from the ground to his suite of apartments.

The clock in the palace of the Great Mogul in the old city of Delhi strikes twelve, and the captain's voice is heard once more, as he speaks from the rear gondola:–

"All ready?"

"Yes, sir, all clear!"

A button is pressed and the water ballast tanks discharge their cargo to lighten the ship, and then swiftly comes the final order:–

"Let go!"

And as the cables are slipped from the mooring tower, the light gangway is drawn back, the crowd down below cheer, and the giant airship backs out, carried by the force of the wind alone till she is well clear of the station. Then her engines open up gradually. She turns until her nose points almost due west, then slips away on her four thousand miles' journey over many a classic land, desert, forest and sea towards the centre of the world's greatest empire.

About four o'clock that afternoon, as Judge Jefferson sat and talked with his friend Colonel Wilson in one of the rear gondolas where smoking was permitted, he remarked that this was his seventh trip home to England by the aerial route, and declared that he could well spend the rest of his lifetime in such a pleasant mode of travel.

"There's no fatigue whatever," he added; "nothing of the jolt and jar which you get in the railway carriage. As for the journey by sea, I was so ill during my last voyage that I simply couldn't face the sea again. A storm at sea is of all things the most uncomfortable. If we meet with a storm on the air-route we can either go above it or pass on one side, as most storms are only local affairs."

"Not to speak of the time that is wasted by land or sea-travel," added the colonel.

"Exactly," replied the judge.

"Only to think that in forty-eight hours we shall be in London, even allowing for a two hours' stay in Cairo to pick up further mails and passengers."

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" agreed his companion.

"And the absence of heat is some consideration, when travelling in a land like India," continued the colonel as he flicked off the end of his cigar.

"Yes. The stifling heat, particularly in May, June and July, when you get the hot dry winds, is altogether insufferable in those stuffy railway carriages, while up here it is delightfully cool and bracing, and the view is magnificent."

"Hullo! what is that fine river down there?" asked the judge, as he looked down through the clear, tropical atmosphere on to the delightful landscape of river, plain and forest three thousand feet below.

"Oh, that must be the Indus, the King River of Vedic poetry, a wonderful stream, two thousand miles in length," said the colonel, consulting his pocket map.

"Can it really be the Indus?"

"It is indeed."

"Then we have already travelled four hundred miles since noon across the burning plains of India, and we have reached the confines of this wonderful land," replied Jefferson.

"Yes, we have indeed. We shall soon enter the native state of Baluchistan. See yonder, right ahead of us, I can already make out the highest peaks of the Sulaiman Mountains. We are already rising to cross them."

"And this evening we shall cross the troubled territory of Afghanistan."

"Yes," replied the colonel, "and by midnight, if all goes well, we shall be sailing over Persia."

"Persia, the land of enchantment," mused the judge.

"And of the Arabian Nights, those wonderful tales which charmed our boyhood–the land of Aladdin, of the wonderful lamp, and the magic carpet."

"The magic carpet," laughed the judge. "This is the real magic carpet. The author of that wonderful story never dreamt that the day would really come when the traveller from other lands, reclining in luxury, would be carried through the air across his native land, by day or by night, at twice the flight of a bird."

And so these two men talked about these wonderful classic lands over which they were sailing so serenely, of Zoroaster, the great Persian teacher of other days, of Ahura Mazda, the All-Wise, and the Cobbler of Baghdad, until the tea-bell startled them.

Then, finding they were hungry because the bracing air had made them so, they passed on to the snug little tea-room, where, amid the palm-trees and the orchids, they listened to soft dulcet notes from a small Indian orchestra which accompanied the maharajah. Here, they sipped delicious china tea from dainty Persian cups, and appeased their hunger, as best they could, from the tiny portions of alluring patisserie which usually accompany afternoon tea.

But, later that evening, they did ample justice to a fuller and nobler banquet, which had been prepared for them in the gilded and lofty dining saloon; for they were the honoured guests of the Maharajah of Bangapore. And he entertained them right royally as befitted one of his princely rank.

And in all the wondrous folk-lore and tradition of the ancient Persian kings, was there ever a more regal banquet, or one more conspicuous by the splendour of its oriental wealth than this long-protracted feast? Rich emblazoned goblets of gold, bejewelled with rare and precious gems, adorned the table, for the prince had brought his household treasures; they were to him his household gods, and heirlooms of priceless worth.

Never the Lydian flute played sweeter music than these soft native airs which wandered amid the eastern skies, as, under the silver moon, the long, glistening, pearl-like airship sailed on beneath the stars, while down, far down below, lay the ruins of Persepolis, where the ancient kings of Persia slept their last long sleep.

CHAPTER VI

AN UP-TO-DATE CABIN BOY

While the great, mammoth air-liner is racing like a meteor across the eastern skies, on its way to Cairo and London, it is necessary to introduce to the reader a chirpy, little fellow called Gadget. In fact, this cute little chap, who stood a matter of four feet two inches in his stockinged feet, deserves a chapter or two all to himself.

Now Gadget did not belong to the passengers, nor did his name appear at all in that distinguished list. Neither did he rightly belong to the crew, except in the matter of his own opinion–on which subject he held very pronounced views. But he certainly did belong to the airship, and appeared to be part of the apparatus, or maybe the fixtures and effects. He certainly knew the run of that great liner, every nook and corner of it, better even than the purser or the navigating officer.

To tell the truth, this insignificant but perky little bit of humanity was a stowaway, who had determined, at twelve years of age, to see the world, at the expense of somebody else. How he came aboard, and hid himself amongst the mail-bags, until the airship had sailed a thousand miles over land and sea, still remains a mystery. But it happened that, when the Empress of India was crossing the blue waters of the Adriatic sea, on her outward voyage, there came a tap at the captain's door one afternoon when the latter had just retired for a brief spell.

"Come in!" called the air-skipper, in rather surly tones, wondering what had happened to occasion this interruption.

The next instant, the chief officer entered the little state-room, leading by a bit of string, attached to one of his nether garments, the most tattered-looking, diminutive, but perky little street Arab the captain had ever beheld.

"What in the name of goodness have you got there, Crabtree?" exclaimed the skipper, starting up from his comfortable bunk, at this apparition.

"Stowaway, sir!" replied the officer briefly.

"Stowaway?" echoed the captain.

"Yes, sir."

"Where did you find him?"

"Didn't find him, sir. He gave himself up just now. Says he's been hiding amongst the mail-bags. What shall I do with him, sir?"

"Tie him to a parachute and drop him overboard as soon as we are over the land again," shouted the captain in angry tones. "I won't have any stowaways aboard my ship."

This was said more to frighten the little imp than with real intent, though the air-skipper spoke in angry tones, as if he meant what he said. He was evidently very much annoyed at this discovery.

"He's half-frozen, sir," interposed the chief officer in more kindly tones.

"Humph! Of course he is," added the captain. "This keen, biting wind at three thousand feet above the sea must have turned his marrow cold. Besides, he hasn't enough clothes to cover a rabbit decently. Just look at him!"