maniac--purposeless and without the slightest trace of a motive.People spoke of Bolshevists and Communists. But what Bolshevik orCommunist, others asked, would waste time and effort to inflict suchabsurd pinpricks on Society?
They were soon to be undeceived. An enemy of Society was indeed at workarmed with a weapon of a potency which far outstripped the paltryefforts of the Terrorists of old, to whom the bomb and the revolver werethe means of world regeneration.
The explosion at Moorcrest took place on May 2nd.
Twelve days later, on May 14th, Doctor Clare-Royden, who was in practiceat Little Molton, a village about four miles from Moorcrest, received anurgent message from an old patient summoning him to Moorcrest.
Doctor Royden, jumping on his motor-bicycle, answered the summons atonce. A terrible surprise awaited him.
Practically every inhabitant of the village, about a hundred people inall, were in the grip of a fearful and, so far as Doctor Royden'sknowledge went, wholly unknown malady.
Its principal symptoms were complete paralysis of the arms which werestrained and twisted in a terrible manner, fever which mounted at afurious speed, and agonising pains in the head. Many of the victimswere already _in extremis_, several died even while the doctor wasexamining them, and in the course of a few hours practically everyoneattacked by the disease had succumbed. The only ones to recover were afew children, too young to give any useful information.
It would be useless to trace or describe the excitement which followed,even though the Press, at the instigation of the Government, was silentupon the matter. Help was rushed to Moorcrest, the dead were interredand the living helped in every way. The Ministry of Health sent downits most famous experts to investigate. One and all admitted that theywere completely baffled.
On May 21st Ancoats was the scene of an appalling outbreak of thedisease. People in the densely packed areas died like flies. But therewere some remarkable circumstances which drew the attention of thetrained observers who rushed to the spot to inquire into the phenomenon.
Ancoats had been the scene of the second explosion twelve days before.It was not long before a health official noticed the coincidence thatthe outbreaks at Moorcrest and Ancoats occurred exactly twelve daysafter the explosions in each place.
The coincidence was, of course, remarked upon as somewhat suspicious,but it was not until it was reproduced in the terrible outbreak atNottingham that suspicion became a practical certainty. It was speedilyconfirmed by repeated outbreaks in other parts of the country. In eachcase the mysterious malady broke out exactly twelve days after theappearance of the violet vapour. In all cases the symptoms wereprecisely alike, and the percentage of deaths was appalling. Neitherremedy nor palliative could be devised, and the best medical brains inthe country confessed themselves baffled.
By this time there was no room for doubt that the terror was thedeliberate work of some human fiend who had won a frightful secret fromNature's great laboratory. But who could it be, and what possibleobject could he have?
Leading scientific men of all nations poured in to England to help. Forit was now recognised that civilisation as a whole was menaced; the fateof England to-day might be the fate of any other nation to-morrow.France and the United States sent important missions; even Russia andGermany were represented by famous bacteriologists and health experts.International jealousies and rivalries appeared to be laid aside, andeven the secret service, most suspicious of rivals, began for once toco-operate and place at each other's disposal information which mightprove useful in tracking down the author of the mysterious pestilence.
On the day of the meeting of the British Cabinet, two men and a pretty,dark-haired French girl were keenly discussing the terrible problem in asmall but tastefully furnished flat in the Avenue Kleber, in Paris.
"I know only three people in the world with brains enough to carry thething out," said the girl. "They are Ivan Petroff, the Russian; PaoloCaetani, the Italian, and Sebastian Gonzalez, the Spaniard. They areall three avowed anarchists, and, as we know, they are all chemists andbacteriologists of supreme ability. But I must say that there is not ascrap of evidence to connect either of them with this affair."
The speaker was Yvette Pasquet, and there was no one in whom Regnier,the astute head of the French Secret Service, placed more implicitconfidence.
"If the doctors could settle whether this poisoning is chemical orbacteriological it would help us a great deal," said Dick Manton. "Ifit is chemical, I should be disposed to include Barakoff; he knows moreabout chemistry than all the others put together. But in any case,there is as yet nothing we can even begin to work on."
A fortnight went past. The death-roll in England had assumed terribleproportions, and apparently the authorities were as far off as ever fromcoming to grips with the mystery. But a clue came through the heroismof a London policeman.
One night Constable Jervis was patrolling a beat which led him throughsome tumbledown streets in the lowest quarter of Canning Town. Suddenlyhe caught sight of a man rushing from a small empty house. At onceJervis started in pursuit of the man, who was running hard away fromhim. As he did so, there came the sound of an explosion, and the housethe man had just left collapsed like a pack of cards. At the same timethe odour of the dreaded violet vapour completely filled the narrowstreet.
The Terror had attacked London, and Jervis knew that to cross that zoneof vapour meant certain death.
He did not hesitate. Muffling his face with his pocket handkerchief ashe ran, he dashed at full speed after the stranger, whom he could justdiscern. He crossed the zone of death, almost overpowered by thecurious scent of petrol and musk that loaded the still air, and a momentlater was in pursuit, blowing his whistle loudly as he ran. A momentlater a second policeman, hearing his colleague's whistle, stood at theend of the road barring the way. The desperado was trapped.
Snatching out a revolver, the man backed against the wall and openedfire on his pursuers who were rapidly closing in on him. But both thepolicemen were armed, and both opened fire. Jervis's second shot killedthe man on the spot.
He proved to be a well-known member of a Russian anarchist group whichhad its head-quarters in the slums of Soho. The gallant Jervis hadfaced certain death--as a matter of fact he was among the hundred or sovictims when the epidemic broke out twelve days later--but he had donehis duty in accordance with the splendid traditions of the force towhich he belonged.
The source of the mysterious epidemic was now, to a certain extent,localised. It needed no great acumen to guess the motive and origin ofthe fiendish plot. But to discover the master-mind which held the fullsolution of the mystery was another matter.
The first step was a general round-up of known members of the AnarchistParty. They were arrested by dozens, and very soon practically all whowere known were under lock and key.
To the intense surprise of the police, one and all acknowledged thatthey were fully familiar with the scheme. Many of them had actuallytaken part in its execution. The secret had been well kept!
The explosions, it was learned, were caused by small bombs about thesize of an orange. These were placed in the selected houses and timedto explode in a few hours. Evidently there was some defect in themechanism of the one sent to Canning Town, and the man who placed itthere must have seen that it was likely to explode prematurely andrushed in panic from the house.
But of the source of the bombs one and all of the men professed completeignorance. They were, it was asserted, received by post from differentplaces on the Continent. It was evident that the crafty scoundrel atthe head of the terrible organisation took elaborate precautions toprevent their sources of origin being discovered.
But to have traced the outbreak to Anarchist sources was a step of thefirst importance. Immediately every branch of the secret service of thewestern world was concentrated on the problem.
A hint from one of the men captured, who collapsed under thecross-examination to which the known leaders were subjected
, put thepolice in possession of one of the bombs. It had arrived by post theday before, and the miscreant to whom it was sent was caught before hehad time to make use of it.
It was now possible to prove definitely that the disease caused by thebombs was chemical in its origin. Upon analysis the powder with whichthe bomb was filled was found to consist of a series of, apparently,quite harmless chemicals. A small portion fired by the detonator foundin the bomb gave off dense clouds of the pale-violet vapour, and animalsexposed to it were speedily killed, exhibiting every symptom of theterrible disease. Unhappily the secret of the detonator used defieddiscovery. The one found in the bomb had been used in the onlyexperiment that had been made, and too late it was discovered that nofulminating material known would explode the apparently harmless powder.
"That seems to narrow it down to Barakoff," said Dick Manton a few dayslater when Regnier brought them the news. "I don't think either of theothers is equal to research work capable of producing