The Phantom Airman. Rowland Walker
softly and his confidential secretary entered, and announced:–
"Two more cables and a wireless message, sir."
"Anything from Keane or Sharpe yet?" demanded the chief.
"Nothing, sir."
"Then what are these confounded things?"
"More about that aerial brigand, sir."
"Let me see them," and Jones handed the messages to his chief.
Consternation and alarm were both visible on the face of Tempest as he read the news.
"So the devil has already got to work, Jones," he remarked, quoting from the sheets, laconic phrases such as "Oil tanks at Port Said burning for three days. Crew of mysterious aeroplane suspected." (Delayed in transit.) "Wireless station at Karachi utterly destroyed, after brief visit by strange airmen." The third was a wireless message which proved most disconcerting of all to the Commissioner. It announced that a silent aeroplane, showing no distinctive marks whatever, passed over Delhi "this afternoon" at a speed estimated at not less than three hundred miles an hour.
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