by Frank Cobb
CHAPTER X
While O'Brien slept and the two airmen speculated about him, far, farahead two dirigibles flew straight into the rising sun. The first onemight have outdistanced the second with the utmost ease. Indeedsometimes it was hard for her young pilot to temper his speed to thepace he knew the second balloon could make. The dirigible from BarnegatInlet proved to be a wonder. It was a swallow, an arrow, a flash oflight, a dream. All these terms and many more passed in turn through themind of Lawrence as he held the wheel and felt the big cylinder respondto the slightest turn.
The lighter-than-air machines, while seemingly bulky, have a strangefeeling of buoyancy that the planes do not possess. Lawrence seemed topartake of this lightness. He was happy beyond words. All was well. Inhis breast lay his new and wonderful secret. All the anxietiesconcerning the errand that had sent them overseas were past, with thetreasure and the papers safely hidden.
Just in sight was another dirigible coming on at top speed. Lawrencekept it in sight, but was too anxious to proceed to allow the convoy toapproach nearer. There was nothing that they wanted to say to O'Brien,nothing that he could want of them. In case of accident--well, therewere the waterproof suits that were guaranteed to uphold the wearersafely, warm and dry, for forty-eight hours. Suits capable of offering acup of hot chocolate and a biscuit to the fortunate possessor! Lawrencealmost wished that he could try his out! As for O'Brien, he had awireless which he could use if necessary.
In the meantime everything moved smoothly and pleasantly. Lawrence, hishand on the pulse of the machine he was guiding, marvelled at thepropelling power of the new fuel, hyolax, and rejoiced to think that hehad been honored by the position he was occupying. His thoughts turnedto Mr. Ridgeway with gratitude. He hoped his own father would be aspleasant and as good to him.
As for Mr. Ridgeway, for the first time in a good many days he was atease. It is true that he had been worried at the failure of O'Brien toturn up at Barnegat but he had appeared so soon after their own start,hustling along dim and mysterious in the early dawn, that Mr. Ridgeway'slast fears were silenced and he felt that the journey could assume theaspect of a pleasure trip, a vacation from care. He settled himself inan easy corner and sat looking out through the clouds that were risingabout them from the sea. They were shot with rainbow tints as the risingsun pierced them. Mr. Ridgeway wished that his wife might see them. Hewould have much to tell her when he saw her in the old English housewhere she was staying, utterly unconscious of the fact that her staidhusband was literally flying to meet her!
Not a foreboding crossed his mind. The papers, carefully protected bywrappings of oiled silk, as well as the crown jewels, lay in a cleverlyconstructed cylinder under his feet.
This cylinder was an invention of his own. The size, weight, and shapewere exactly identical with the cylinders that held the hyolax. Therewere ten of these cylinders lying side by side under a close gratingthat served as floor in that end of the cabin. Their polished steelsides gleamed prettily through the slats. They were made especially tofit the under curve of the boat-shaped cabin, and were ample to carryenough hyolax for three oversea trips, but Mr. Ridgeway wanted noquestion of insufficient gas to worry him. But the end can held thetreasure. With his own hands, under the eye of the Keeper at theTreasury, he had wrapped the priceless crown jewels in cotton, and hadstored them in the big steel shell. Their individual boxes, cases, andcaskets made of finest leather and carved oak and gold, were returned tothe Treasury. Some other time they could be returned to their anxiousroyal owner. Now the only thing that mattered was the jewels themselves.Mr. Ridgeway smiled as he thought of the splendid glittering things.Never before in the world's history had they been handled by any handsother than those of noblemen and women.
And here they were, their only guardian a man of the people, yet safe ontheir way home to their royal resting place.
So Mr. Ridgeway rested, his eyes on the east and his thoughts far ahead.Occasionally talking to Lawrence, reading or planning, he spent thedaylight hours.
Behind came what seemed O'Brien's car, never gaining, but followingsteadily.
Staring steadily at the dirigible ahead, like a snake that fixes itsbaleful eyes on its prey to hypnotize and devour, Smith bent forward,tense and untiring. He had not slept for forty-eight hours, yet his paleeyes were clear and keen, his face, a little pale, was unlined byanxiety. Why should he be anxious? All was going well. He knew the veryspot off the coast where the white cliffs rose so bleakly, the veryplace where even now the schooner would be waiting. All he needed was alittle patience, just a little. Then he would send out the signal forhelp ... and he knew Mr. Ridgeway. He would stop to help O'Brien, nomatter how anxious to make speed on the last lap of the journey acrossthe ocean.
There was but one thing, such a _little_ thing, seemingly sounimportant. And this one thing, passing in a whispered conversationbetween O'Brien and Lawrence, he did not know. But Lawrence rememberedand put his knowledge to the test, and the result worried him. Again andagain he made the manoeuver, so far to the right, back as far to theleft, and a spurt ahead, but there was no sign of acknowledgment fromthe plane following.
O'Brien could not have forgotten. O'Brien never forgot _any_thing.Lawrence tried the manoeuver until he was afraid to repeat it, and likea star shell exploding in his brain came the thought, "_That is notO'Brien's car!_"
He took the glasses and studied the car. He could see by its quicktremor that the engines were being pressed to their utmost in order tokeep up with their speedy leader, but otherwise there was nothing tomake him think that O'Brien was not at the wheel. Yet he could not castout the strange thought, "O'Brien is not there!" If not, who was in thecar? Who was rushing it directly in their aerial wake? He hated toanswer that question.
Surely if it was not O'Brien, there was reason for caution. And the onlycaution that now occurred to Lawrence was to keep ahead. Also he decidednot to say anything about his suspicions to Mr. Ridgeway until somethingreally serious occurred. And Lawrence hoped with all his might and mainthat his suspicions were all wrong. That seemed more than likely.Lawrence knew that his nerves were tuned up to the snapping point. Hewas suspicious of everything. Glancing over his shoulder, he could seeMr. Ridgeway taking it easy. With an effort of will, Lawrence laughedhis fears away. Yet every little while he looked back at the tiny objectfollowing them, and twice Lawrence slowed down his powerful engine untilthe car was in plain sight.
The second time he fancied that the other dirigible also slackened speedas though the pilot preferred not to lessen the distance between them.
Patiently Lawrence went through the secret manoeuvers but there was noresponse. Either the car was not O'Brien's, or else O'Brien was never atthe wheel. In either case, Lawrence found his anxiety growing.
There was no anxiety in the second dirigible. Smith was only consciousof a sense of annoyance to think that he was obliged to use thecounterpart of O'Brien's dirigible instead of his own racing airplane.
He felt almost unable to brook the delay of the few hours that must passbefore they saw the white cliffs of England. Yet he knew that even if hehad had the plane it would have been most unwise to attack in mid-ocean,where Mr. Ridgeway would be forced to sink the papers and gems if thebattle reached that end. He had not known Mr. Ridgeway so long withouthaving to learn that in a question of honor he would sacrifice his liferather than fail in his trust.
Over and over again he mentally tested out every small detail of hisplot. Over and over he tried out his plans. There was but one flaw. Notone of the three men whom they had expected had appeared to take passagein the dirigible. Smith and Brown were alone. Where had John and theothers been sidetracked? Not for a second did he doubt that they hadobeyed him to the letter concerning O'Brien.
He chuckled as he thought of O'Brien. He was certainly a good man tohave out of the way. There was something indeed snaky in the way Smith,holding the wheel with sure and practiced hands, allowed himself todwell on O'Brien. How
nearly the Irishman had come to tricking them all!If the plaster had held ... but it had fallen, and so had O'Brien! Allwas well. Somewhere back in Washington, in a dark alley, a crumpled,dishevelled figure had already met the eyes of the first passerby. Smithchuckled again as he saw it with his mind's eye, and seemed to hear thestranger muttering "Drunk!" as he approached the tumbled figure that hadbeen O'Brien. Then he lazily imagined the change in the man's expressionas he stooped curiously over the fallen man and saw in the bruised andsoiled face not the sodden look of liquor, but that ominous, austeremask that death and death alone draws over the human countenance.Running, stumbling, the passerby would dash for the nearest street,colliding perhaps with a policeman, yawning away the last of his nightbeat. Then the quick return, the tap-tap-tap on the ringing pavement,and soon the rattle and clang of the city ambulance. But not before acrowd had gathered, one of the crowds that gather at any hour fromeverywhere and nowhere; curious, cold, morbid. And then the hastyshuffle through the fallen man's pockets, and the awestruck whisperbetween the policemen, "It's--it's O'Brien! O'Brien, the detective!"
Then how their manner would change! No common drunk this, lying crumpledin the filthy gutter. O'Brien was one of themselves. If it could happento O'Brien, it might happen to one of them. Hastily, yet with utmostcare, they would hunt for clues, for cuts, for bruises on the dead man,to find nothing, to come up against a blank wall. Doctor, lawyer,merchant, or thief, no one could find a mark on O'Brien that meantmurder. And Smith knew they would look for murder. A blank wall! To savetheir own skins, Smith knew that John and the others would leave thehypodermic in an unrecognizable state far away from the scene of thecrime. Yes, he could trust the three cutthroats he had left behind.Smith did not depreciate himself. He knew that he ruled his underlingsby fear, a cold loathing that they could not understand or overcome.
Smith never made the mistake of underpaying his servants, so common tomany criminals. No; if possible he always gave them rather more than theshares they expected. So there was in everything he plotted the thrillof big rewards, of big profits. And they always knew that slip one wordof rebellion, and for them, no matter where in the whole round worldthey might hide, sooner or later a shot out of the dark, a drop ofpoison in their cup would be the finish of the tale! Smith kept a cleanslate.
These thoughts were pleasant ones for Smith as he steered his shipthrough the gentle currents of the upper air. He was glad that O'Brienwas dead; he was glad that his eye was on the treasure boat ahead; hewas not even sorry that the three men had missed their appointment withhim. He knew that in an encounter such as lay ahead he and Brown wouldbe perfectly capable of sending the dirigible ahead plunging down intothe sea. And they would go down easily and quickly because of thefishing schooners that they would take for friends, and so letthemselves down to the surface of the sea as soon as they could.
Smith really was enjoying a very cheerful journey. He kept the wheeluntil he was tired, then put Brown in the pilot's seat, and throwinghimself down on a pile of rugs, lay looking up at the sky. Eveninggathered around them like a cloak, and the stars, large and intimate,commenced to sparkle. He took the wheel long enough for Brown to set thelights properly. There were rules of the road even for these wayfarersin the sky--really traffic rules that must be observed. Then he oncemore resigned the wheel to his henchman and went to look at the guns.
There were four of them, the latest model, rapid fire, small bore, anyone of them throwing a bullet that would pierce a dirigible at themaximum distance of any shooting machine made. They cost a small fortuneand had been secured by the syndicate of scoundrels who at that verymoment were waiting so anxiously for the papers under Mr. Ridgeway'sfeet. Smith had personally seen to the mounting of them. Solid as thevery wood and steel they were screwed to and blocked by, they pushedtheir wicked thin little noses up as though trying to look through thetarpaulins that covered them. When the dirigible had been anchored inthe hangar outside of Washington, these guns had been concealed by seatsthat ran around the swinging cabin. These Smith had tossed aside, andthey had afterwards been destroyed in the fire that had burned down thehangar. That this fire had occurred and that his own cigarette hadstarted it, Smith did not know.
Once in a while something happened that Smith did _not_ know, althoughhe would not have admitted it.
Having looked the guns over, Smith went back to his rugs and, lyingdown, stared at the sky until sleep overcame him. He could afford tosleep. All was going well. At the wheel, like a big gray wolf, Brown satstaring toward his prey through the deepening dusk. He could feel thesoft cool shape of countless jewels dripping through his fingers. Whatdid _he_ care if they were stained with blood?
Brown also wondered a little about John and his friends. He could havetold Smith that he was not altogether sure of the three preciousscoundrels. He did not feel that they were quite as afraid of Smith atlong range as they were when his pale, baleful eye was fixed on them.Brown could have told Smith that and more, but one was not invited toexchange confidences with Smith. That was his mistake. Brown did notdoubt the death of O'Brien unless something had come up to put the threein danger. He knew that they were first, last and always intent onsaving their own necks. Brown mistrusted them as much as they mistrustedBrown. And that was wholly. Yet it was funny they had not showed up whenthey knew that the jewels were to be secured on that very trip. Theywould have enjoyed the fight, would have enjoyed the first glance of allthe flashing, glowing things in the cabin of the schooner. What indeedwould _they_ have cared that the gems were stained with blood?
