“ronald has wired that he can’t get back here till to-night, so i shall fly ‘the hornet’ over to sleaford to see rose,” remarked beryl to her sister iris, as they sat together at breakfast at harbury one warm august morning.
“perhaps ronald might object,” remarked mrs. remington, who was always averse from her sister making ascents alone upon “the hornet.”
“oh, ronnie won’t object! besides, he always[44] says that i can fly just as well as any man.”
“but do be careful, won’t you, beryl?” urged her sister. “is the weather really in a condition for making such a flight?”
“perfect. i’ve just been looking at the barometer. it is quite steady, and i shall have an excellent wind back.”
“i thought ronald intended to go up on patrol-duty to-night. last night was very dark—just the conditions for another zepp raid.”
“i expect he will,” replied beryl. “he told me that he intended to patrol the coast.”
“then, if you go, you really will be careful, won’t you?”
beryl laughed.
“why, when once up there is not so much danger in the air as there is in walking along a london street,” she declared.
“so ronnie always says, but i rather doubt the statement,” iris replied. “personally, i prefer terra firma.”
breakfast ended, beryl brushed her little black pom, one of her daily duties, and then, going to her room, changed her dress, putting on a warm jersey and a pair of workmanlike trousers, and over them a windproof flying suit with leather cap tied beneath her chin, a garb which gave her a very masculine appearance.
very soon she arrived at “the hornet nest,” and, at her directions, collins brought out the great biplane and began to run the engine, which beryl watched with critical eye. then, climbing into the pilot’s seat, she began to manipulate the levers to reassure herself that all the controls were in order.
[45]“beautiful morning for a flip, miss!” remarked the mechanic in brown overalls. “are you going up alone?”
“yes, collins. i’m going to visit my youngest sister at sleaford, in lincolnshire.”
“then i’ll take the bombs out,” he said, and at once removed the six powerful bombs from the rack, the projectiles intended for the destruction of zeppelins. he also dismounted the quick-firing gun.
for some time beryl did not appear entirely satisfied with the throb of the engines, but at last collins adjusted them until they were running perfectly.
within himself collins was averse from allowing the girl to fly such a powerful machine, knowing how easily, with such a big engine-power, the biplane might get the upper hand of her. but as she had made ascents alone in it several times before, it was not for him to raise any objection.
having consulted her map she arranged it inside its waterproof cover, looked around at the instruments set before her, and then strapped herself into the seat.
meanwhile the engines had been humming loudly.
suddenly she motioned to collins to stand aside, and then, pulling over one of the levers, she ran along the grass for a short distance and rose gracefully in a long spiral, round and round over the harbury woods, until the altimeter showed a height of five thousand feet.
then she studied her map, took her bearings, and, drawing on her ample gauntlet gloves, for it became chilly, she followed a straight line of railway leading due north through suffolk and norfolk.
[46]the sky was cloudless, with a slight head-wind. on her right, away in the misty distance, lay the north sea, whence came a fresh breeze, invigorating after the stifling august morning on land. deep below she identified villages and towns. some of the latter were only indicated by palls of smoke, the wind on land being insufficient to disperse them. and over all the grey-green landscape was a strange flatness, for, viewed from above, the country has no contours. it is just a series of grey, green, and brown patchwork with white, snaky lines, denoting roads, and long, grey lines, sometimes disappearing and then reappearing, marking railways and their tunnels; while here and there comes a glint of sunshine upon a river or canal. in the ears there is only the deafening roar of petrol-driven machinery.
once or twice, through the grey haze which always rises from the earth on a hot morning, beryl saw the blue line of the sea—that sea so zealously guarded by britain’s navy. then she flew steadily north to the flat fens.
from below, her coming was signalled at several points, and at more than one air-station glasses were levelled at her. but the tri-coloured rings upon the wings reassured our anti-aircraft boys and, though they recognised the machine as one of unusual model, they allowed her to pass, for it was well-known that there were many experimental machines in the air.
beryl had sought and found upon her map the great northern main line, and had followed it from huntingdon to peterborough. afterwards, still following the railway, she went for many miles until, of a sudden, close by a small town which the map told her was called bourne, in lincolnshire, her engines showed signs of slackening.
[47]something was amiss. her quick ear told her so. a number of misfires occurred. she pulled over another lever, but the result she expected was not apparent. it was annoying that being so near sleaford she had met with engine trouble—for trouble there undoubtedly was.
at that moment she was flying at fully ten thousand feet, the normal height for a “non-stop run.” without being at all flurried she decided that it would be judicious to plane down to earth; therefore, putting “the hornet’s” nose to the wind, she turned slightly eastward, and, as she came down, decided to land upon a wide expanse of brown-green ground—which very soon she distinguished as a piece of flat, rich fenland, in which potatoes were growing.
at last she touched the earth and made a dexterous landing.
at that moment, to her great surprise, she became aware of a second machine in the vicinity. she heard a low droning like that of a big bumblebee, and on looking up saw an army monoplane coming down swiftly in her direction.
indeed, its pilot brought it to earth within a few hundred yards of where she had landed. then, springing out, he came across to where she stood.
on approaching her he appeared to be greatly surprised that the big biplane had been flown by a woman.
“i saw you were in trouble,” explained the pilot, a tall, good-looking lieutenant of the royal flying corps, who spoke with a slight american accent, “so i came down to see if i could give you any assistance.”
“it is most awfully kind of you,” beryl replied, pulling off her thick gloves. “i don’t think[48] it is really very much. i’ve had the same trouble before. she’s a new ’bus.”
“so i see,” replied the stranger, examining “the hornet” with critical eye. “and she’s very fast, too.”
“when did you first see me?” she asked with curiosity.
“you were passing over huntingdon. i had come across to the railway from the great north road which i had followed up from london. i’m on my way to hull.”
“well, i had no idea you were behind me!” laughed the girl merrily. the air-pilot with the silver wings upon his breast seemed a particularly nice man, and it showed a good esprit de corps to have descended in order to offer assistance to another man, as he had no doubt believed the pilot to be.
without further parley, he set to work to help her in readjusting her engine, and in doing so quickly betrayed his expert knowledge of aeroplane-engines.
“i have only a few miles to go—to sleaford. my sister lives just outside the town, and there is a splendid landing-place in her husband’s grounds,” beryl explained, when at last the engine ran smoothly again.
it was but natural that the good-looking lieutenant should appear inquisitive regarding the new machine. his expert eye showed him the unusual power of the twin engines, and he expressed much surprise at several new inventions that had been introduced.
he told her that he had been flying for seven months at the front, and had been sent home for a rest. he had flown from farnborough that morning and was making a “non-stop” to the humber.
[49]many were the questions he put to beryl regarding “the hornet.” so many and so pressing were his queries that presently she became seized by distrust—why, she could not exactly decide.
the air-pilot naturally inquired as to the biplane’s constructor, but all beryl would say was:
“it is not mine. it belongs to a friend of mine.”
“a gentleman friend, of course?” he remarked, with a mischievous laugh.
“of course! he himself invented it.”
“a splendid defence against zeppelins,” he said. “i see she can carry ten bombs, a searchlight, and a lewis gun. all are wanted against the kaiser’s infernal baby-killers,” he added, laughing.
then, having thoroughly examined “the hornet,” the courteous lieutenant of the royal flying corps stood by until she had again risen in the air, waved her gloved hand in farewell, made a circle over the field, and then headed away for sleaford.
“h’m!” grunted the flying-man as he stood watching her disappear. “foiled again! she’s left that new silencer of hers at home! that girl is no fool—neither is ronald pryor. though i waited for her in bury st. edmunds and followed her up here, i am just about as wise regarding ‘the hornet’ as i was before i started.”
for a few moments he stood watching the machine as it soared higher and higher against the cloudless summer sky.
“yes! a very pretty girl—but very clever—devilishly clever!” he muttered to himself. “just my luck! if only she had had that[50] silencer i would have silenced her, and taken it away with me. however, we are not yet defeated.”
about a week later ronald pryor and beryl were lunching together in the grill-room of a west end hotel, which was one of their favourite meeting-places, when suddenly the girl bent over to her lover and exclaimed:
“i’m sure that’s the man, ronnie.”
“what man?”
“the nice flying corps officer whom i met near bourn the other day. you’ll see him, sitting in the corner yonder alone—reading the paper,” she replied. “don’t look for a moment.”
“don’t you think you’ve made a mistake, dear?”
“no, i feel positive i haven’t,” was the girl’s reply.
that morning ronald pryor, accompanied by beryl, had made a flight in “the hornet” from harbury to the essex coast and back, and they had just arrived in town by train. the renowned zepp-hunter was in a light grey suit, while beryl, becomingly dressed, was in a coat and skirt of navy blue gaberdine trimmed with broad black silk braid.
a few moments after beryl had spoken, her lover turned suddenly, as though to survey the room in search of someone he knew; his gaze met that of the solitary man eating his lunch leisurely in the corner and apparently, until that moment, absorbed in a newspaper. the stranger was good-looking, aged about thirty, thin, rather narrow-faced, with a pair of sharp steel-grey eyes, and a small dark moustache. his shoulders were square, and his appearance somewhat dandified. in his black[51] cravat he wore an unusually fine diamond, and his hands were white and well-kept.
apparently he was a man of leisure, and was entirely uninterested in those about him, for, after a sharp glance of inquiry at ronald, he continued reading his paper.
“are you quite sure you’ve made no mistake?” inquired pryor of his companion.
“positive, my dear ronald. that’s the man whom i met in the uniform of the royal flying corps, and who was so kind to me. no doubt, he doesn’t recognise me in these clothes.”
“then why isn’t he in uniform now?”
“perhaps he has leave to wear civvies,” she replied. “there are so many curious regulations and exemptions nowadays.”
though the stranger’s eyes had met those of beryl there had been no sign of recognition. hence she soon began to share ronald’s doubt as to whether he was really the same person who had descended in that potato field in lincolnshire, and had so gallantly assisted her in her trouble.
ronald and his well-beloved, having finished their luncheon, rose and drove together in a taxi over to waterloo, the former being due to visit his works at weybridge, where he had an appointment with one of the government inspectors.
as soon as they had passed out of the restaurant the man who sat alone tossed his paper aside, paid his bill, and left.
ten minutes later he entered a suite of chambers in ryder street, where an elderly, rather staid-looking grey-haired man rose to greet him.
“well?” he asked. “what news?”
“nothing much—except that pryor is flying[52] to-night on patrol work,” replied the other in german.
“h’m, that means that he will have the new silencer upon his machine!”
“exactly,” said the man who had displayed the silver wings of the royal flying corps, though he had no right whatever to them. “by day ‘the hornet’ never carries the silencer. i proved that when i assisted the girl in lincolnshire. we can only secure it by night.”
“and that is a little difficult—eh?”
“yes—a trifle.”
“then how do you intend to act, my dear leffner.”
the man addressed shrugged his shoulders.
“i have an idea,” was his reply. “but i do not yet know if it is feasible until i make further observations and inquiries.”
“you anticipate success? good!” the elder man replied in satisfaction. “think of all it means to us. only to-day i have received another very urgent request from our good friend, mr. j——; a request for the full details of the construction of ‘the hornet.’”
“we have most of them,” replied the man addressed as leffner.
“but not the secret of the silencer. that seems to be well guarded, does it not?”
“it is very well guarded,” leffner admitted. “but i view the future with considerable confidence because the girl flies the machine alone, and—well,” he laughed—“strange and unaccountable accidents happen to aeroplanes sometimes!”
a few days later, soon after noon, a narrow-faced man, with shifty eyes, carrying a small, well-worn leather bag, entered the old king’s[53] head inn in harbury village and, seating himself in the bar, mopped his brow with his handkerchief. the mile walk from the nearest station had been a hot one along a dusty, shadeless road, and when jane joyce, the landlady’s daughter, appeared, the shabby traveller ordered a pint of ale, which he drank almost at one draught.
then, lighting his pipe, he began to chat with jane, having, as a preliminary, ordered some luncheon. by this man?uvre he had loosened the young woman’s tongue, and she was soon gossiping about the village and those who lived there.
the wayfarer asked many questions; as excuse, he said:
“the reason i want to know is because i travel in jewellery, and i daresay there are a lot of people about here whom i might call upon. i come from birmingham, and i’m usually in this district four times a year, though i’ve never been in harbury before. my name is george bean.”
“well, there’s not many people here who buy jewellery,” replied the landlady’s daughter. “farming is so bad just now, and the war has affected things a lot here. but why don’t you go up and see mrs. remington, at harbury court? they’ve got lots of money.”
“ah! who are they?”
“well, captain remington is a prisoner in germany, but mrs. remington is still at home. she has her sister, miss beryl gaselee, staying with her. perhaps you’ve heard of her. she’s a great flying-woman.”
“oh, yes!” replied the stranger. “i’ve seen things about her in the papers. does she fly much?”
[54]“a good deal. mr. ronald pryor, to whom she’s engaged, invented her machine; he calls it ‘the hornet,’ and he keeps it here—in a corrugated iron shed in the park, close to the house!”
“how interesting!”
“yes. and the pair often go up at nights,” went on the young woman. “mother and i frequently hear them passing over the house in the darkness.”
“do you always hear them go up?” asked the stranger suddenly.
“no, not always. they go over sometimes without making a sound.”
“that is at night, i suppose? in the day you can always hear them.”
“yes. always.”
the traveller in birmingham jewellery remained silent for a few minutes.
“i suppose they have a mechanic there?”
“yes—a mr. collins. he comes in sometimes with mr. sheppard, the butler. he was butler to the colonel’s old father, you know.”
“and this mr. collins lives at the house, i suppose?”
“no. he sleeps in the place where the new aeroplane is kept.”
mr. bean smiled, but made no comment. knowledge of that fact was, to him, important. he lit another pipe, and, while miss joyce went away to lay the table for his lunch in the adjoining room, he stretched his legs and thought deeply.
hans leffner, alias george bean, was the son of a german who, forty years before, had emigrated from hamburg to boston. born in america he was, nevertheless, a true son of the fatherland. he had been educated in germany,[55] and returned to boston about a year before war broke out.
suddenly he had been called up for confidential service, and within a month had found himself despatched to london, the bearer of an american passport in the name of henry lane, commercial traveller, of st. louis. upon a dozen different secret matters he had been employed, until knowledge of the existence of “the hornet” having reached the spy-bureau in berlin, he received certain secret instructions which he was carrying out to the letter.
hans leffner had been taught at his mother’s knee to hate england, and he hated it with a most deadly hatred. he was a clever and daring spy, as his masquerade in the royal flying corps uniform clearly proved; moreover, he was an aviation expert who had once held a post of under-director in “uncle” zeppelin’s aircraft factory.
for some weeks he had dogged the footsteps of ronald and beryl, and they, happy in each other’s affection, had been quite ignorant of how the wandering american had been unduly attracted towards them.
the landlady of the king’s head—that long, thatched, old-world house over which for fifty years her husband had ruled as landlord—had no suspicion that the jeweller’s traveller was anything but an englishman from birmingham. he spoke english well, and had no appearance of the teuton.
mr. bean ate his chop alone, waited on by jane, who, finding him affable, imparted to him all the information she knew regarding harbury court and its inmates.
at half-past two the traveller, taking his bag, set out on a tour of the village in an endeavour[56] to dispose of some of his samples. his appearance was much changed, and he bore but little resemblance to the pilot of the royal flying corps who had descended near bourne. he looked much older, and walked wearily, with a decided stoop.
at house after house in the long village street he called, disguising his intentions most perfectly. at more than one cottage he was allowed to exhibit his wares, and at the shop of the village baker the daughter in charge purchased a little brooch for five shillings. its cost price was thirty shillings, but mr. bean wanted to effect a sale and, by so doing, appear to be carrying on a legitimate business.
by six o’clock he was back again at the king’s head, having called upon most of the inhabitants of harbury. he had, indeed, been up to the court, and not only had he shown his samples to the maids, but he had taken two orders for rings to be sent on approval.
incidentally he had passed “the hornet’s” nest, and had seen the machine in the meadow outside, ready for the night flight. as a simple, hard-working, travel-stained dealer in cheap jewellery nobody had suspected him of enemy intentions. but he had laid his plans very carefully, and his observations round “the hornet’s” nest had told him much.
to mrs. joyce he declared that he was very tired and, in consequence, had decided to remain the night. so he was shown up stairs that were narrow to a low-ceilinged room where the bed-stead was one that had been there since the days of queen anne. the chintzes were bright and clean, but the candle in its brass candlestick was a survival of an age long forgotten.
[57]at ten o’clock he retired to bed, declaring himself very fatigued, but on going to his room he threw open the old-fashioned, latticed window, and listened. the night was very dark, but quite calm—just the night for an air raid from the enemy shore.
having blown out his candle he sat down, alert at any sound. after nearly an hour, mrs. joyce and her daughter having retired to bed, he suddenly detected a slight swish in the air, quite distinct from the well-known hum of the usual aeroplane. it was a low sound, rising at one moment and lost the next. “the hornet” had passed over the inn so quietly that it would not awaken the lightest sleeper.
“by jove!” he exclaimed aloud to himself. “that silencer is, indeed wonderful!”
with the greatest caution he opened his door and, creeping down on tiptoe, was soon outside in the village street; keeping beneath the deep shadows, he went forward on the road which led up the hill to the long belt of trees near which had been erected the corrugated iron shed.
meanwhile ronald, accompanied by beryl, had ascended higher and higher in the darkness. ronnie had swung the machine into the wind, and they were climbing, climbing straight into the dark vault above. below were twinkling shaded lights, some the red and green signal lights of railways. beryl could see dimly the horizon of the world, and used as she was to it, she realised how amazing it was to look down upon mother earth. by day, when one is flying, the sky does not rise and meet in a great arch overhead, but, like a huge bowl, the sky seems to pass over and incircle the earth.
[58]they were flying due east by the dimly lit compass at five thousand feet, heading straight for the essex coast.
“we may possibly have visitors from belgium to-night,” laughed ronnie, as he turned to his well-beloved. “but look! why—we are already over the sea!”
beryl, gazing down, saw below a tiny light twinkling out a message in morse, answered by another light not far distant. two ships were signalling. then ronnie made a wide circle in that limitless void which obliterated the meeting point of earth and sea.
the long white beam of a searchlight sweeping slowly seaward, turned back inland and followed them until it picked up “the hornet,” ronnie banking suddenly to show the tri-coloured circles upon his wings.
afterwards he again consulted his compass and struck due south, following the coast-line over harwich and round to the thames estuary.
“no luck to-night, dearest!” laughed ronnie. “the barometer is too low for our friends.”
“yes,” said the girl. “let us get back!” and ronnie once more circled his machine very prettily, showing perfect mastery over it, as he came down lower and lower until, when passing over felixstowe, he was not more than three hundred feet in the air.
meanwhile, the guest at the king’s head had made the most of his time. he had reasoned, and not without truth, that if “the hornet” had ascended, the mechanic, collins, would no doubt leave the hangar, and, if so, that now would be a good opportunity to obtain entrance.
with that in view he had crept along to the shed and, as he had hoped, found the doors unlocked.[59] quickly he entered and, by the aid of his flash-lamp, looked round.
at last the long tentacles of the german spy-bureau in the “k?niggr?tzerstrasse” had spread to the little village of harbury.
five minutes sufficed for the spy to complete his observations. at an engineer’s bench he halted and realised the technical details of a certain part of the secret silencer. but only a part, and by it he was pretty puzzled.
he held it in his hand in the light of his flash-lamp and, in german exclaimed:
“ach! i wonder how that can be? if we could only obtain the secret of that silencer!” the hun continued to himself. “but we shall—no doubt! i and my friends have not come here for nothing. we have work before us—and we shall complete it, if not to-day—then in the near to-morrow.”
the shabby stranger returned to the king’s head and, letting himself in, retired to his room without a sound. hardly had he undressed when he heard again that low swish of “the hornet” on her return from her scouting circuit of the thames estuary.
hans leffner, alias bean, had not been trained as a spy for nothing. he was a crafty, clever cosmopolitan, whose little eyes and wide ears were ever upon the alert for information, and who could pose perfectly in half-a-dozen disguises. as the traveller of a birmingham jewellery firm he could entirely deceive the cheap jeweller of any little town. he was one of many such men who were passing up and down great britain, learning all they could of our defences, our newest inventions, and our intentions.
next day mr. bean remained indoors at the[60] king’s head, for it was a drenching day. but at last, when the weather cleared at eight o’clock, he lit his pipe and strolled out in the fading light.
before leaving he had taken from the bottom of the bag containing his samples of cheap jewellery a small, thick screw-bolt about two inches long, and placed it in his pocket with an air of confidence.
half-an-hour later he crept into the shed which sheltered “the hornet” and, not finding the silencer upon the exhaust, as he had anticipated, turned his attention to the fusilage of the biplane. from this he quickly, and with expert hand, unscrewed a bolt, swiftly substituting in its stead the bolt he had brought, which he screwed in place carefully with his pocket wrench.
the bolt he had withdrawn hung heavily in his jacket-pocket, and as he stood, alert and eager, there suddenly sounded the musical voice of a woman.
next second he had slipped out of the hangar and gained cover in a thicket close by.
beryl was crossing the grass, laughing gaily in the falling light. with her were pryor, and collins the mechanic. a few minutes before, ronald and she, having finished dinner, had put on their flying-suits and, passing through the long windows out upon the lawn, had bidden farewell to iris, as they were going on their usual patrol flight.
ronald, leaving her suddenly, struck away to the hangar and, entering it, turned up the electric lights. with both hands he tested the steel stays of the great biplane, and then, aided by the mechanic, he wheeled the machine out ready for an ascent, for the atmospheric conditions were exactly suitable for an air raid by the enemy.
[61]“we had better go up and test the engines, dear,” he suggested. “this afternoon they were not at all satisfactory.”
beryl climbed into the observer’s seat, he following as pilot, while collins disappeared round the corner of the hangar to get something.
then the pair, seated beside each other and tightly strapped in, prepared to ascend in the increasing darkness.
the sudden roar of the powerful engines was terrific, and could be heard many miles away, for they were testing without the silencer.
scarcely had they risen a hundred feet from the ground when there was a sharp crack and “the hornet,” swerving, shed her right wing entirely, and dived straight with her nose to the earth.
a crash, a heavy thud, and in an instant ronald and beryl, happily strapped in their seats, were half-stunned by the concussion. had they not been secured in their seats both must have been killed, as the man leffner had intended.
the engine had stopped, for, half the propeller being broken, the other half had embedded itself deeply into the ground. collins came running up, half frantic with fear, but was soon reassured by the pair of intrepid aviators, who unstrapped themselves and quickly climbed out of the wreckage. ere long a flare was lit and the broken wing carefully examined; it was soon discovered that “the hornet” had been tampered with, one of the steel bolts having been replaced by a painted one of wood!
“this is the work of the enemy!” remarked ronnie thoughtfully. “they cannot obtain sight of the silencer, therefore there has been a dastardly plot to kill both of us. we must be a little more wary in future, dear.”
[62]ronald’s shrewdness did not show itself openly, but having made a good many inquiries, both in harbury village and elsewhere, he, at last, was able to identify the man who had made that secret attempt upon their lives. of this, however, he said nothing to beryl. “the hornet” was repaired, and they made night flights again.
ronald anticipated that a second attempt would be made to obtain the silencer. taking collins into his confidence, he made it his habit each dawn, when they came home from their patrol of the coast, to leave in the little office beside the hangar the box which contained the silencer, the secret of which he knew the germans were so very anxious to obtain.
for a fortnight nothing untoward occurred, until one morning soon after all three had returned from a flight to london and back, they were startled by a terrific explosion from the direction of the hangar.
“hullo!” exclaimed ronald. “what’s that?”
“the trap has gone off, sir,” was collins’s grim reply.
all three ran back to the shed, whereupon they saw that the little office had been entirely swept away, and that part of the roof of the hangar was off. amid the wreckage lay the body of a man with his face shattered, stone-dead. “he thought the box contained the silencer, and when he lifted the lid he received a nasty shock, sir—eh?” collins remarked.
“but who is it, ronald?” gasped beryl, horrified.
“the man who made the attempt on our lives a month ago, dearest,” was her lover’s reply. “come away. he has paid the penalty which all spies should pay.”
[63]a few hours later ronald pryor made a statement to the authorities which resulted in the explosion being regarded, to all but those immediately concerned, as a complete mystery.
