The Phantom Airman

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!"

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.