The Zeppelin Destroyer: Being Some Chapters of Secret History

Chapter Twenty One

Roseye’s Secret

Old Theed, the stalwart ex-police officer, was greatly excited.

“Just before half-past eight, my son having gone in the car over to Horsham to see his young lady, and afterwards to pick up Mr Ashton, I was sitting in the kitchen with Mulliner,” he said. “Suddenly I thought I heard footsteps out in the yard. I listened for a few moments and then I heard, quite distinctly, a curious sawing noise. I went silently out by the front door and was just creeping round the corner of the house, when the figure of a man – who was evidently on the watch – suddenly sprang from the shadow. I was seized by the collar, and the next I knew was that a handkerchief was stuffed into my mouth and a rope tied round my arms and legs. I tried to cry out, but I could not. I was trussed like a fowl. My assailants were two men, and pretty tough ones they were, too!”

“Mulliner was in the house – eh?” asked Roseye.

“Yes, miss. They flung me down into the garden yonder, up against those rose-bushes, and then went into the house after her,” Theed went on. “I heard her scream, but could not move to assist her. She shouted for help, but I couldn’t answer. But she was plucky and she saved the situation.”

“How?” I asked, amazed.

“Why, she shouted out to me: ‘It’s all right, Theed! I’ve telephoned down to Nutley. The police will soon be here!’”

“That was certainly a master-stroke, considering that we have no telephone here,” I exclaimed.

“No. But it scared the thieves – or whoever they were – for they didn’t wait, but made off in a car which they had waiting down the lane. I heard them hurry away down to the lane, and soon afterwards the car started.”

“Who released you?” I asked.

“They had tied Mulliner to a chair in the kitchen but, after half an hour, she managed to get free, and came out to find and release me. Then, on going into the yard with a lamp, we found a curious thing. They had evidently been examining your aeroplane, sir.”

“They’ve been in there!” I gasped. “Strangers!”

“Yes, sir. But, as far as I can see, they’ve done nothing.”

I at once took one of the side-lamps from the car and, with Roseye, went into the barn. Mulliner, who had now recovered from her fright, followed us.

As far as I could discern by a cursory glance, nothing had been tampered with. It was fortunate, however, that we had removed the box containing the secret electrical apparatus, and that it was concealed in the house, as was our constant habit.

The story told by the pair was certainly alarming.

Once again I recognised here the evil finger-prints of the Invisible Hand.

“You saw the men who attacked you?” Roseye said to Mulliner when we were again in the house. “Describe them to us.”

“Well, miss. There’s the difficulty. There were two men, I know, as well as a woman – a tallish woman, dressed in a fur-coat and a small motor-hat. She had a thin, dark-looking face and funny eyes, and she spoke to the men in some foreign language – Italian, I think.”

“Ah!” gasped Roseye, turning to me terrified. “The woman! I feared it – I knew it! The woman with the Leopard’s Eyes!”

“And the men?” I asked. “Did you not see them?”

“I only caught a glimpse of one of them,” and the description she gave of him almost tallied with that of the man whom we had seen in the woman’s company at the roadside. The pair had evidently been on the watch ever since afternoon. They no doubt had seen us leave, and also watched Teddy and Theed’s son go away.

“But the second man?” I demanded eagerly. “Can’t you give us any description of him?”

The maid hesitated, and fidgeted slightly. I saw that she was undecided and a little unwilling. Her hair was still awry from her attack, and she had forgotten, in her excitement, to replace her well-starched Dutch-cap.

“Well, sir,” she answered at last, “I have a suspicion – but only a very faint one – remember I couldn’t really see his face, for he sprang upon me from behind. But he spoke to his companion, and I thought I recognised his voice – only a faint suspicion,” the woman added. “Indeed, I don’t really like mentioning it, because I’m sure you’ll laugh at me. You’ll think it too absurd.”

“No. This is no laughing matter, Mulliner,” I said. “We are in deadly earnest. It is only right of you to tell us any suspicion that you entertain.”

“Well – to tell you the truth, sir, I thought I recognised the voice of a gentleman who often visits Cadogan Gardens – Mr Eastwell.”

“Eastwell!” I echoed. “Do you really think it was actually Mr Eastwell?”

I glanced at Roseye and saw that, at mention of the man’s name, her face had instantly gone pale as death, and her hands were trembling.

“Are you quite sure of that, Mulliner?” she asked breathlessly.

“No. Not quite. I only know that he wore a big pair of motor-goggles with flaps on the cheeks, and those effectively altered his appearance, but as he assisted in tying me up in the chair, my eyes caught sight of his watch-chain. It was familiar to me – one of alternate twisted links of gold and platinum of quite uncommon pattern. This I recognised as Mr Eastwell’s, for I had seen it many times before, and it went far to confirm my suspicion that the voice was undoubtedly his. I admit, miss, that I was staggered at the discovery.”

I led Roseye into the best room and, having closed the door, stood before her in front of the log fire and asked:

“Now what is your opinion, dear? Has Lionel Eastwell been here to-night, do you really think?” Her pale lips compressed, and her eyes narrowed at my words. I saw that she was unnerved and trembling.

“Yes,” she whispered at last. “Yes – Claude – I believe he has been here!”

“Then he’s not our friend, as we have so foolishly believed – eh?”

She drew a long breath, and gazed about the room as though utterly mystified.

“I – I never suspected this!” was her low reply. “But – ”

“But what? Tell me, darling. Do tell me,” I begged.

“But he may be acting in conjunction with that woman in some desperate plot against us!”

“I believe he is,” I declared. “I believe that whatever has happened to you, and my accident also, are both the result of cunning and dastardly plots directed by this man who has so long posed as our friend. Have you never suspected it?” I asked of her.

“Never – until to-night,” was her reply. “But if he has dared to come here in order to assist that woman, then his action places an entirely fresh complexion upon the whole affair.”

“My opinion is that Lionel Eastwell has, all along, suspected that we have perfected our invention, and has formed a most clever and desperate plot to possess himself of our secret, in order to transmit it to Germany,” I declared, as I held her hand tenderly in mine.

“Yes,” she replied, sighing after a pause. “Your surmise may be correct, Claude.”

“But do you share my views?”

“Well – ” she responded at last, “yes, Claude – I do! But,” she added, “the whole affair is too mystifying – too utterly amazing. When, one day, I can tell you what happened to me you will, I know, stand aghast. Ah! when I think of it all,” she cried hoarsely, “I often regard it as a miracle that I am alive and at your side again – at the side of the man I love!”

More than this she refused to tell me.

I had, at last, established that the hand of Lionel Eastwell, the popular pilot at Hendon, was the hand of the enemy. I had suspected it, but here was proof!

His association with the mysterious woman was, of course, still an enigma, but I saw that Roseye herself held the key to it, and now that we had agreed that Eastwell was playing us both false, I hoped that this, in itself, would induce her to tell me the frank and open truth.

When Teddy returned he heard from my lips what had happened during our absence, and he stood speechless.

“Let’s run the dynamo, light up, and examine the machine,” he suggested, and though it was already midnight we readily adopted his suggestion.

That it had again been tampered with I felt no doubt.

That statement of old Theed’s that he had heard “sawing” made it plain that some devil’s work had been done – and by Eastwell no doubt, because he was an expert in aviation. The expert knows exactly the point at which he can weaken the strongest aeroplane.

Well, we soon ran the dynamo, and had a good light going, one that was almost too glaring in that confined space. All of us were present, including the maid Mulliner, as slowly we examined and tested, piece by piece, every bolt, nut, strainer, and indeed every part of the machine.

It was past three o’clock in the morning ere we finished, yet we could find absolutely nothing wrong. The engines worked well: the dynamo was in order, the intensified current for the working of the invisible wave was up to the high voltage as before, and as far as we could discover the machine had not been tampered with in any way.

“They intended to investigate the secrets of the box,” Teddy remarked. “No doubt that’s what they were after.”

“Well – they didn’t see very much!” I laughed, for already I had been up to the locked attic to which we had carried it on the previous night, and found it there with the door still secure.

Then, having satisfied ourselves that no damage had been done, we all retired to rest.

But sleep did not come to my eyes.

Hour after hour I lay awake until the grey dawn, pondering over the events of that night. That a desperate plot of the enemy was afoot against us could not be doubted, and I realised that it would take all our ingenuity and foresight to combat the plans of an unscrupulous enemy well provided with money, and desperate upon a resolve.

To go boldly to the authorities and denounce Lionel Eastwell as a spy would avail me nothing. Indeed, there was no actual evidence of it. No more popular man at Hendon, at Brooklands, or at the Royal Automobile Club was there than Eastwell. Yet, was not that popularity, purchased by the ample means at his disposal, and the constant dinners and luncheons which he gave regardless of their cost, proof in itself that he was acting secretly against the interests of Great Britain? Long ago I had suspected that his was the Invisible Hand that sent every secret of our progress in aviation to Germany by way of the United States. He had several American friends to whom I had been introduced, apparently business men who had come over for various reasons, and it was, no doubt, those men who conveyed back to New York secret information which, later on, returned across the Atlantic and was duly docketed in the Intelligence Bureau of the German General Staff at Berlin. Truly the wily Teuton leaves nothing to chance, and has his secret agents in the most unsuspected places.

Yet, reflecting as I did in those long wakeful hours, I saw that it was not surprising, and that the enemy would, naturally, have kept a very watchful eye upon anyone who had devised a means of fighting Zeppelins, and, if possible, defeat him in his attempt.

This thought decided me. I meant, at all hazards, to try my device against an enemy airship, even though I might fail. I had foreseen all the risks of machine-guns mounted upon the top of the latest airship, of the dangers of night-flying, of landing difficulties even if successful, and the hundred and one mishaps which might occur in the excitement and darkness.

Indeed, in following a Zeppelin at a high altitude and in clouds, I might very easily be mistaken for an enemy attendant aeroplane, and thus draw the fire of our own anti-aircraft guns. In addition, I held no official position in the anti-aircraft service. As far as the newly-formed Joint Naval and Military Air Committee were concerned, I might be a mere man-in-the-street. Therefore I should be compelled to act upon my own initiative. Indeed, I had already offered my invention to the proper official quarter, but had only received a type-written acknowledgment. I, however, was not surprised, because that Department had, I knew, been flooded by the devices of hot-air cranks.

Still, as I lay reflecting, I remembered that we could build 1,700 aeroplanes for the cost of one Dreadnought, and a Zeppelin would cost a good deal less than a destroyer. I did not approve of that shrieking section of the Press which was loudly declaring that we had lost the supremacy in aeroplanes which we possessed at the beginning of the war. That was not a fact. We, of course, had no dirigibles worth the name and, perhaps, we were asking pilots to fly machines inferior to the Fokker. Yet we had brought Fokkers down at the front, and with good experimental work and a speedy policy of construction we should, I believed, soon be far ahead of the Central Powers as far as aircraft was concerned.

Those days were dark and perilous days for Britain.

That something must be done, every one was agreed. Yet, as I tossed upon my bed in that narrow little room in the obscure farm-house, I knew that within my hand I possessed a great, and yet mysterious power – and that power I intended to use and prove at the earliest opportunity.

Still I had to reckon with enemies; cool, clever, cunning persons who would hesitate at nothing in order to nullify my efforts, and wreck my machine and all my hopes.

Ah! If only Roseye, my well-beloved, would reveal to me the truth.

Why did she so persistently refuse?

Why? I wondered why?

Chapter Twenty Two

More Devil’s Work

Next day I decided that, in view of the fact that our enemies had traced us, it would be best to at once remove our headquarters. Further, in order to attack a Zeppelin, as I intended, we ought to station ourselves upon the line of their advance from the East Coast towards London, and somewhere in proximity to an anti-aircraft listening-post.

All three of us held council and decided that, as I knew of a listening-post in East Anglia, I should fly the machine to that neighbourhood, rather than dismantle it and take it by road. It was arranged that Teddy should accompany me, and that Theed should drive Roseye, Mulliner and his father in the car. By this rapid and unexpected flight we hoped to at least evade the unwelcome attentions of that mysterious woman whom Roseye described as having leopard’s eyes.

Experience had taught us that in the Zeppelin raids upon England the airships generally approached by crossing the coast-line between Lowestoft and Margate, therefore I decided upon a district that would be the centre of a danger-zone.

Having studied my map I saw that my most direct route would be over Tonbridge, thence by the railway line to Sevenoaks, and then north-east till I could pick up Gravesend – which would be easy on account of the river Thames – and afterwards due north would bring me to G – , which would be easily distinguishable by certain landmarks.

We had wheeled out the machine, and I was tuning her up before starting, both Teddy and I ready in our air-clothes, when Theed, who was giving the machine a final look round, suddenly gave vent to an ejaculation of dismay.

“Why look, sir!” he cried. “What’s this?”

I hopped quickly out of the pilot’s seat and, joining him, saw to my surprise that, beneath the wooden petrol-tank a fine insulated twin-wire had been, placed, and upon it, tacked lightly to the wood, was a small disc of some black-looking material through which the fine wire ran.

In breathless eagerness I traced the wire and, to my horror, saw what a devilish contrivance it was. The twin-wire had been connected up to the battery that ran the lamp over my map and instruments, therefore had I switched on the light at night, it would have failed, for it was intended that the current should ignite that little disc of inflammable material and explode my petrol-tank behind me!

Truly, the device of those crafty and subtle enemies was a devilish one. That wire had been connected up by an Invisible Hand – by the hand of one who certainly knew the most vulnerable point of the machine.

Teddy and Roseye both stood aghast at this latest revelation.

Then, when I had disconnected the wire, I placed it with the little black incendiary disc upon the ground and connected up the wires to an accumulator from the car.

In a moment the black substance shot into a fierce red flame which burned and spluttered with intense heat for fully five minutes.

From the barn, a few minutes later, Theed emerged carrying a piece of the wire, evidently discarded by the intruder who had so swiftly and so cunningly prepared another death-trap for me.

A further hour we spent in making a second examination of the machine, and then having appointed to meet that evening at the old King’s Head, in G – , at seven o’clock, I climbed into the pilot’s seat and, with Teddy at my side, we shot forward and soon left the ground heading for the railway line which I knew would run from right to left across our track at Tonbridge.

I was really glad to place Holly Farm behind me. It certainly was not a “healthy” spot, as far as we were concerned. The low-down cunning of our enemies had once more been revealed. Yet how I longed for Roseye to tell me the actual truth! Why did she so persistently refuse? What could she have to hide from me – the man who loved her so very dearly.

We trusted each other. She had trusted her life to me in the air on many occasions – even on the previous night. Yet she remained silent.

The day was bright and crisp, with a slight north-westerly wind and a few scudding clouds. Very soon, when we had risen to about four thousand feet – for I had determined to fly high again – I saw a big seaplane coming up from the coast. It passed us about four miles distant and then I gave over the dual controls to Teddy, so that he might get used to them ready for the crucial test when it must mean either destruction to a Zeppelin, or to ourselves.

Teddy was a first-rate patriot. There was nothing of the milk-and-water type about him, and yet, at the same time, he was nothing of a lady’s man. He was always courteous, humorous, and charming with the fair sex, but he preferred to read and smoke his rather foul briar pipe, than to go out of an evening into the glitter and clatter of London life. But we were friends – firm friends, and he was just as prepared and keen to take the risk as I was.

We found Tonbridge quite easily. Below us what looked like a toy-train was puffing along towards Dover, leaving a white streak of steam behind. For a few minutes I made a short circuit over the town in order to find the line that ran across to Sevenoaks, and at last, distinguishing it, I made my way over that rather scattered place and then struck another railway line at a place marked upon the map as Fawkham, after which I soon picked out the shining river with Gravesend on one bank and Tilbury on the other. I glanced at the altimeter. We were 10,500 feet up. Below us all was misty in the valley of the river. Then over the brown land of Essex I sped forward until I again found another railway line at Brentwood and, following it, soon saw my landmark – one which I need not refer to here, for I have no desire to instruct enemy airmen.

Nothing extraordinary had met my eye. I was used to the patchwork landscape.

Then began a search for a convenient field in which to land.

I came down from ten thousand to a thousand feet in long sweeping circles, examining each grass meadow as I went.

The lower I came, the more easily could I distinguish the pastures and ploughed land and woods.

A train was passing and I noted the direction of the smoke – most important in making a landing. Teddy at my side, as practised as I was myself in flying, had never moved. Through his big goggles he was gazing down, trying to decide upon a landing-place, just as I was.

I banked for a moment. Then put her nose down and then, finding no spot attractive, climbed again.

I did not want to land too near the town, for I had no desire to attract undue attention.

I was trying to find a certain main road, for, truth to tell, I had been up very early that morning consulting my maps.

On that main road were two or three farms in which I hoped I could shelter my machine, just as I had done at Holly Farm.

I suppose we spent perhaps nearly half an hour in the air before, after critical examination, I decided to descend into a large park before a good-sized old Georgian house belonging, no doubt, to some county family.

Parks, provided they have few trees, are always desired by the aviator as landing-places.

Indeed, as I circled round I could plainly see that several figures, attracted by the heavy, roar of my engine, were standing outside watching us.

Two minutes later I brought the machine round to the wind.

Down went her nose – down, down. The air screamed about our ears. The earth rushed up to meet us, as it always seems to do. Truth to tell, by my own fault, I had had a nasty nose-dive, but I righted her and, touching the grass, managed to pull up dead.

Teddy, who had been watching it all, never turned a hair.

Only when I shut off the roar of the engine, he remarked:

“By Jove! Devilish good landing! That nose-dive was rather a nasty one, Claude – wasn’t it?”

And, unstrapping himself, he hopped out and sought his cigarette-case from his hip-pocket, as was his habit.

We were close against the big, rather ugly country house, therefore, leaving the machine, we went up and soon found its owner – a retired colonel of the usual JP type – hard on poachers when on the County Bench, I expect.

Still, he welcomed us warmly and was, we found, quite a good sort.

I asked him to take us aside, and he conducted us to the library, a fine old-fashioned room lined with brown-backed books.

There I told him the truth – of what we were after.

“Well,” said the white-haired old man, looking me up and down, “you seem a pretty keen young fellow, and your friend also. If you are over here on such a mission then I hope you will, both of you, consider yourselves my guests. I’ve a big barn beyond the stables where I can garage your machine quite well.”