The Air Pirate - free ebook by Guy Thorne

The Air Pirate by Ranger Gull

Author of "The Serf," "Back to Lilac Land," "The Snare of the Fowler," etc. LONDON: HURST AND BLACKETT, LTD. PATERNOSTER HOUSE, E.C....

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Dedication

TO PERCY BURTON, Esq. In memory of a certain celebrated walk from Great Holland to Frinton-on-Sea, and the salmon we met at the end of it. With all good wishes from the Author. THE AIR PIRATE...

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CHAPTER I THE COMMISSIONER OF AIR POLICE FOR GREAT BRITAIN RIDES TO PLYMOUTH IN GOOD COMPANY

Nearly two years ago a leading London daily newspaper said: "The Government have assured us that all danger from present and future air piracies is now over, and that the recent events which so startled and horrified both this country and the United States of America can never recur. For our own part we accept that assurance, and we do not think that the Commissioner of Air Police for the British Government will be caught napping again. "In saying this we do not in the least mean to imply that S

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CHAPTER II FATE OF THE TRANS-ATLANTIC AIR-LINER "ALBATROS"

There were a good many people in both the ante-room and the secretaries' room as I was led to Sir Joshua. I was immediately aware of an unusual stir and excitement, and people nodded and whispered as I passed—"That's Sir John Custance, the Police Commissioner." "I expect there's some news," were two of the sotto voce remarks I heard. Sir Joshua sat in his own magnificent apartment, with the great window looking out over Drake's Island and Mount Edgcombe to the horizon. A tray and a decanter show

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CHAPTER III "COLD-BLOODED PIRACY IN THE HIGH AIR"

Pilot-commander Pring was a tall, lean, lantern-jawed officer, who, though of English nationality, had spent most of his life in America. His face was still pale and grim with passion and mortification as I closed the door of my private room at the A.P. Station on him, Mr. Van Adams, the multi-millionaire, and Mr. Rickaby, second officer of the Albatros . "Now, gentlemen, sit down, please," I said. "And I will ask Captain Pring a few questions. Sir Joshua Johnson has given me the main facts, but

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CHAPTER IV THE NEWSPAPERS IN FULL CRY

You are to imagine, if you please, the private room of the Chief Commissioner of Air Police at Whitehall. A soft Turkey carpet of dull brick-reds and blues covers the parquet floor. The walls are hung with pictures of famous airmen of the past, inventors, fighters, pioneers of the great commercial service of air-liners which now fills the skies and has shrunk the planet—for all practical purposes—to a fifth of its former size. There are two or three huge writing-tables covered with crimson moroc

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CHAPTER V THE FAMILIAR SPIRIT OF MR. VAN ADAMS

At mid-day I had an appointment with the Home Secretary. He received me with the utmost kindness, and we had half an hour of highly confidential talk. The purport of it will appear later. This is not the place for it. Towards the end I informed him that I had a request to make. "Tell me," he answered at once, "and let me repeat that the Government has every confidence in you, Sir John. Don't take this too hardly, I beg of you." I had a sudden impulse. "I trust," I said, "that my anxiety for the

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CHAPTER VI MR. DANJURO, THINKING MACHINE, EXPLAINS HIMSELF

"Won't you sit down?" I said foolishly. The little Japanese bowed politely and did so. I was at a loss what to say. My mind was in a whirl. I wanted to laugh, to call Van Adams back, but my dominating sensation was one of supreme annoyance. So this natty, commonplace little Asiatic was the millionaire's "familiar spirit"! He was unique, was he! I cursed myself for several kinds of fool to have saddled myself with this amazing stranger at the beginning of my work. At any rate, I reflected irritab

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CHAPTER VII THE CURIOUS FIGHT IN THE RESTAURANT

"It is a good deal to ask, Sir John," said Danjuro briskly, "but, for the moment, will you place yourself entirely in my hands?" "I am perfectly content to do so." "Then permit me to press the bell." He did so. "I left a black bag in the hall," Danjuro said politely when Thumbwood came in. "Would you please let me have it?" The bag was brought. Danjuro placed it on the table and opened it. "You are very well known, Sir John," he remarked. "Major Helzephron and his friends have either seen you at

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CHAPTER VIII THE HUNTING INSTINCT IS STIMULATED BY A PROCESSION

The big car rolled down Piccadilly. She was a beauty to handle, as I discovered in the first two minutes. The very latest type of electric starter, a magnificent lighting installation—every convenience was ready to my hand. I was in an extraordinary state of mind as I steered the car through the late theatre and restaurant traffic, purely mechanically and without conscious thought about it. The predominant sensation was one of immense overwhelming relief at the prospect of action . Mere office a

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CHAPTER IX THE MAN WITH THE WICKED FACE

On the morning after our arrival I stepped out of my bedroom window at Penzance and stood upon the balcony. Many times had I flown over Cornwall; never had I set foot in the Duchy until now. Plymouth had always been my furthest west. The sea was blue as the Mediterranean, the sky a huge hollow turquoise, the air all Arabia. Away in the bay St. Michael's Mount, crowned with towers, gleamed like a vision of the New Jerusalem in some old monkish missal—and the heart within me was so hard, stern, an

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CHAPTER X SIR JOHN CUSTANCE COMES UPON THE HOUSE OF HELZEPHRON

Mr. Trewhella was an elderly Cornishman, with welcoming manners, the native shrewdness of his race, but without guile. We got on famously from the word "go." He had three bedrooms and a large sitting-room to let. His wife, who had driven into St. Ives, was, he asserted, a good cook. As for Thumbwood, he could wait on us and live with the landlord and his wife. Finally, there was an empty barn which would hold our car very comfortably. "And what would you be thinking of paying, zur?" asked Mr. Tr

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CHAPTER XI "THE AIR WOLVES ARE HUNTING TO-NIGHT!"

He made no comment, and did not interrupt me until I had completely finished, nor did his inscrutable face give any indication of what he thought. "My own investigations," he said, "can be told in a few words. The small steamship which brings supplies to the cove behind the inn is the private property of Helzephron, and she is a great deal faster and much better engined than most people are aware. She lies at the little port of Hayle, which is on the main line from Plymouth to Penzance, in St. I

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CHAPTER XII THE KILLING OF MICHAEL FEDDON

The moon was in its last quarter, and shed a faint spectral light over the moor as I came quietly up to the first of the barbed-wire fences that surrounded Tregeraint. I lay down in the heath, certain that I was quite invisible, and waited. An hour had hardly elapsed since the band had left "The Miners' Arms." Were they still here, or had they set out for their unknown destination? I could not hear a sound of any kind. From where I lay the high wall hid the house, and among the mine buildings hi

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CHAPTER XIII THE SECRET THAT PUZZLED TWO CONTINENTS

I stood looking down at Michael Feddon's body. I was stunned. For the man I had just killed I cared nothing, felt no emotion. I had saved him from the drop; that was all. But, though I had been convinced that Danjuro's and my own suspicions were absolute fact, the full realization had come so suddenly that it clouded the mind. Constance was here, and she was unharmed! I had, indeed, penetrated into the very centre of this lair of the air-wolves, and already had enough evidence to hang the lot. F

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CHAPTER XIV THE AIR PIRATE AT LAST

Vargus was silent now. Our feet made no noise upon the sandy floor of the cave. It was then that I heard something like a cat purring. Unconsciously I stopped to listen. No, it wasn't a cat, it was the faint drone of some night beetle; it was ... On the right wall of the cavern, remember that my back was turned to its mouth and the sea—there was a sudden flash of white light. The rest happened in five seconds. The light leapt out from the wall, and instantaneously the vast vaulted place was bril

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CHAPTER XV LED OUT TO DIE

In relating what is immediately to follow I shall do so with as plain and unvarnished a narrative as my pen can command. You will read of what Constance and I endured, but do not ask me to do more than hint at the anger of my soul. It is impossible to describe, at least it would require the pen of a Dante or a Milton, nor would I describe it if I could. It is bad enough to live that hour again even faintly and in imagination. To call it up into full memory—soul memory—is a task for which I have

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CHAPTER XVI THE HOUNDS FROM THIBET AND MR. VARGUS; WITH A DISCOVERY ON BOARD THE PIRATE

They turned my chair so that I faced the mouth of the cave, which was some thirty yards away. The moon had set. The short summer night was over, and the first grey hint of the dawn, that I should never see, was near. Helzephron sat down on a stool a few yards away from me. His back was to the cavern mouth. He spoke a word to Vargus, who padded away behind me. "Why are we waiting?" I said. "Because you had the misfortune to hear my friend Vargus pouring his soul out at the piano, Sir John." "I am

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CHAPTER XVII THE MOMENT OF TRIUMPH

I descended from the airship in silence. Danjuro followed me. Thumbwood was still on guard. The bundle that was Mr. Vargus lay upon the ground, and a face like a white wedge of venom stared up at us. There was no sign of the enemy, but I felt that we should not be left in peace much longer, and my disappointment at the discovery on board the pirate was keen. "There is still a chance," Danjuro whispered in my ear. "And with your permission, Sir John, I am going to try it." I nodded, and he steppe

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CHAPTER XVIII THE GOLDEN DREAM

The strangely-shaped propellers bit the air at once, the walls of the cavern, flooded with spectral light, slid backwards, and as the ship swerved round the curve towards the entrance, the day leapt at us. Wow! but it was touch and go during the next ten seconds. If it had not been for Gascoigne I am sure that I should never have gone through. The great ship shot out of its lair like a dart; a touch upon the little steering-wheel and she was banking in the terrible right-hand turn; the granite w

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CHAPTER XIX LAST FLIGHT OF THE PIRATE AIRSHIP

The station superintendent met me in the office, which was brilliantly lit and cooled by an electric fan. "I expect you're feeling pretty well done, Sir John," he said. "I feel pretty tired, Johnson, I own." "There's a big thunderstorm coming up, not a doubt of it. The air'll be cooler afterwards. All the arrangements about the prisoners are made, sir." The staff had been in communication with London all day upon this matter, but I had not heard the result. I inquired from the superintendent now

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EPILOGUE

In the winter of 19— I was at Monte Carlo for three weeks, taking a short holiday alone, and also looking out for a villa at Roquebrune or Mentone for my wife, who was to come out with the baby as soon as the house had been secured. Now and again I went into the "Rooms" and staked a louis or two upon an even chance or a transversale at roulette; but, speaking generally, the Casino bored me. The cosmopolitan crowd of smart people—like champagne corks floating on a cesspool—the professional gamble

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