CHAPTER VI
THE INTERRUPTED VIGIL
"WHAT'S wrong?" enquired both lads anxiously, for the worriedexpression on the usually calm features of the inventor told its owntale.
In his agitation Blake failed to make reply. He dashed into the shed,followed by his two assistants. Everywhere there were signs ofdisorder as if some intruder had hastily overhauled the secrets ofthe jealously guarded spot. The high tension wire that had previouslybaulked a nefarious attempt had been severed by means of a pair ofinsulated wire-cutters. The lens of the tell-tale camera had beensmashed and the dark slide removed and exposed to the light.
A safe, cunningly built into a concrete pier of the shed, had beenforced open and its contents removed.
"The spy has secured the plans; that's pretty evident," he declared."We can do no good here at present. What I want to find out is howthe fellow forced his way into the grounds."
Accompanied by Athol and Dick, the inventor left the shed and hurriedacross the snow-covered ground. Already the footprints of theintruder had been obliterated by the falling flakes. He could nothave chosen a better time for his successful attempt.
Along the path through the shrubbery the crew of the battleplanehurried. At the inner gate the first sight that met their eyes wasthe body of one of the bull-terriers half buried in the snow. Theother animal was discovered dead in the bushes, whither it hadcrawled before expiring. Both animals had been poisoned.
In the little lodge was the unconscious form of the aged porter.Evidently he had put up a stiff fight, for there was blood upon thefloor, and a revolver with two chambers discharged was still graspedin his right hand.
Blake bent over his devoted servant.
"He's alive," he announced. "I can find no trace of an injury. Hemust have been tackled by two men. He's been chloroformed."
The inventor's first task was to restore the unconscious man. Hisanxiety on the porter's behalf seemed to banish all other thoughtsfrom his mind. The loss of the almost invaluable plans were as naughtcompared with the state of his faithful retainer.
"Shall I go for a doctor?" asked Athol.
Blake shook his head.
"I'm used to a land where doctors are few and far between," hereplied. "That makes every man there more or less of a medico. Youmight start that fire again, Athol, and get a kettle on."
Having waited until the patient had recovered consciousness, DesmondBlake and Dick left the lodge, Athol having volunteered to remainwith the victim of the outrage.
Letting himself in by means of a sidedoor the inventor soon foundthat the house had not been an object of the spies' investigations.The old butler was still asleep, ignorant of the attempt upon hisbrother the porter.
"This little business has upset my plans, Luck," remarked Blake. "Or,rather, it will force my hand. It's no use trying to track thethieves. For one thing we have no clues; for another we simplyhaven't the time to waste. In the likely event of those plansreaching Germany, another month will result in the appearance ofhostile battleplanes built to my specifications. So our task is toconvince the War Office of the outstanding nature of my invention,and get the Royal Aircraft Factory people to set to work as hard asthey can."
"You will have to make another set of working plans, I suppose?"remarked Dick.
"No, fortunately. As it happens I have both duplicate and triplicatetracings deposited at a London bank. However, that is not ourimmediate concern. What I propose doing is this. I'll motor intoChurch Stretton this morning and take old Harvey to the cottagehospital. Athol and you might make up arrears of sleep. Thisafternoon we'll tackle that little job you mentioned in connectionwith the dual drive. There are also a few adjustments necessary,which I noticed during our trial trip--not important, but certainlydesirable. While I am in Church Stretton I'll engage a man and hiswife as caretakers of the house while we're away. One never knowswhen we may be back. To-morrow at nine o'clock I intend starting onour flight to London."
Desmond Blake's plans worked smoothly. During the afternoon thesuggested alterations to the driving transmission gear weresatisfactorily carried out, and everything made ready for themomentous flight.
"I'm sending something of the nature of an ultimatum to the WarOffice," he remarked during the course of the evening. "You see wehave to announce our arrival, otherwise the anti-aircraft guns mightfavour us with their unwelcome attentions. On the other hand it'sworse than useless asking formal permission from the authorities tofly over the Metropolis. The application would drift to and frobetween a dozen or more departments. Every little tinpot in officewould have some remarks to make--I know them of old. The chances arethat I would get an evasive reply in about a fortnight. Good heavens!If we had an Admiralty and a War Office purged of the somnolent civilelement the war would be over by this time. So I've just cut in witha bald announcement. I've left a telegram to be dispatched at nineto-morrow--the time we start--stating that the Desmond Blakebattleplane will manoeuvre over the Horse Guards Parade at 10 a.m.But we'll turn in now. It's getting late, and we've a full programmein front of us tomorrow."
"Do you mind if we sleep on board the battleplane?" asked Athol.
"Mind? No, of course not. But what's the object?"
"We've been talking it over," said Athol. "We thought that perhapsthose spy Johnnies might pay us another visit."
"Hardly likely," replied Blake grimly. "They've collared the plans,and those will keep them quiet."
"I don't know so much about that," rejoined Dick. "They might thinkthat that is our opinion, and consider it a favourable chance ofreturning and doing damage to the battleplane. That would give them atremendous start."
"Perhaps you're right," declared the inventor. "Now I come to thinkof it there is a possibility that the rascals will attempt toculminate their efforts. We'll all sleep on board, and take turns atkeeping watch. I haven't bothered to fix up that high tension wireagain. 'Fraid they know too much. We'll arm ourselves and be ready togive them a warm reception."
"By the by," remarked Dick, "whilst we were repairing the side-carwheel I noticed a 'buzzer' in the workshop."
"Yes," replied Blake. "I bought it to practise Morse signalling.Found myself awfully testy, by the by. But why do you ask?"
"We could fix it up on board, muffle the sound and connect thebattery with a push on the door of the shed," said Dick. "We couldarrange it that as soon as the door opens wide enough to admit a mana circuit would be complete."
"Might try it," admitted Blake. "But you must remember these fellowsare prepared for all sorts of dodges. Well, we'll adjourn at fiveminutes' intervals. The great thing is to get on board without beingseen, for ten to one if these rascals intend paying us another visitthey will be keeping a sharp look-out on the house."
With a loaded revolver reposing in the side pocket of his coat, Atholwas the first to make for the shed where the battleplane was housed.Slipping quietly through an open window in the rear of the house hecrept stealthily through the snow, keeping well under the cover ofthe pinetrees. As an additional precaution he walked backwards, sothat should the spies subsequently examine the ground they would findthat the footprints led away from the shed.
It seemed a long five minutes waiting for Dick to rejoin him. Theeerie shape of the battleplane, looming faintly through the darkness,and the possibility that even now some miscreant might be hidden inthe hangar, gave the lad an unpleasant sensation that he had notexperienced since his first night on sentry in the first-linetrenches of Flanders.
At length Dick arrived. Not a word was spoken. They stood motionlessuntil Blake joined them. Still in silence they ascended the aluminiumladder and gained the interior of the fuselage. Already it had beenarranged that Athol was to have the first watch--from nine tomidnight. Blake had insisted upon keeping the next three hours. Heknew what the mental strain of that watch meant, when a man's diurnalvitality is supposed to reach its lowest ebb. Out of considerationfor his young and efficient helpers he knew that by taking the middlewatch each lad woul
d have six hours' continuous rest, unlesssomething unforeseen occurred.
Lying at full length upon the floor of the fuselage Athol couldcommand a considerable extent of the shed, for the aperture by whichthe crew had gained the interior of the battleplane had purposelybeen left wide open. The double doors of the building had been lockedand the key removed, while Dick's contrivance had been fixed up, the"buzzer" lying within a foot of the watcher's ear.
The lad had no idea of the time. Already it seemed as though he hadbeen for hours at his post. The silence, broken only by the moan ofthe wind in the pines, and the occasional thud of a heap ofaccumulated snow from the roof of the hangar, was oppressive.
"What's that, I wonder?" thought the lad as, after a seeminglyinterminable lapse of time, a faint hissing, bubbling noise caughthis ear. For some seconds he listened intently. Then came theunmistakable odour of the fumes of a powerful acid, mingled with thespluttering of the drifting flakes as they came in contact with thehot metal.
The miscreant, whoever he might be, had fought shy of the task ofpicking the lock, and was employing either sulphuric or nitric acid.
Athol knelt up, gripping the coaming of the aperture and straininghis ears. Then, just as he was about to steal softly to hiscompanions, he felt a hand laid lightly upon his shoulder.
Desmond Blake had also detected the signs of the miscreant's attempt.
Without trusting himself even to whisper, Blake began to apply aseries of light touches to his assistant's arm. Athol, quick to graspthe significance, understood. The inventor was employing the Morsesystem of communication.
"No action till I give the word," he tapped out. "Wake Dick."
Although his chum was sound asleep Athol succeeded in rousing him insilence, and the three airmen gathered round the aperture of thefuselage, awaiting developments.
Quite half an hour passed; then came the rending of thechemically-treated corrugated metal sheeting. A muffled exclamationof pain followed by a guttural oath plainly indicated that the fellowhad burnt himself with the powerful corrosive.
Crawling through the opening the intruder hung a great coat over thehole, to trap any rays of light from passing without, and switched onan electric torch. For some seconds he stood gazing at the mechanicalmarvel he meant to destroy. His scientific curiosity made himtemporarily set aside his purpose, for still holding the torch hebegan to swing himself up the girder-ladder communicating with theinterior of the apparently untenanted battleplane.
The reflected glare of the upturned torch made it easy for the ladsto follow the inventor's unspoken directions. Cautiously they backeduntil they had placed the motor space between them and the aperturetowards which the fellow was climbing.
The man seemed in no hurry, for some minutes elapsed before his headand shoulders appeared in view. Then came another pause as, sittingon the coaming with his feet resting on the topmost rung of theladder, he flashed his light around the interior of the mechanicalbird.
The miscreant had little of the accepted appearance of a spy. He wasslight of build, although his head seemed out of all proportion tohis body. His features were round and florid, his eyes--as far as theglare of the torch permitted them to be seen--large and exhibiting adocile expression like that of a well-cared-for household cat.Encountered under ordinary circumstances one would without hesitationset him down as an easy-going, babyish man devoid both of mental andbodily power.
Judging him from a physical point of view Athol formed a rapidconclusion that either he or Dick could tackle him with one hand.
Still Blake gave no sign. He was too old a campaigner to throw awayhis advantage by premature action. He resolved to wait until thefellow had moved sufficiently far from the aperture to be unable tomake a quick dive for safety.
Presently the German crept forward, still flashing his torch.Evidently there was something that attracted his attention to agreater: extent than did the motors and wing-actuating mechanism.
"Hands up!" exclaimed Desmond Blake sternly, at the same timeflooding the interior of the fuselage with the dazzling rays of hiselectric lamp.
"Sorry--my mistake," replied the fellow coolly. "Mistook this placefor a barn, 'pon my word, I did. Beastly awkward mistake, don't youknow. Then, seeing what I took to be a novel sort of agriculturalimplement I was curious----"
"Are you putting your hands up?" enquired the inventor briskly.
A pistol shot rang out. The spy, grasping the still-smoking weapon,threw himself flat upon the floor to await the result of his shot.Dazzled by the glare he had been unable to see his challenger; norwas he cognisant of the fact that the two lads were present. Theresult of previous investigations led him to believe that theinventor was the only able-bodied man about the place, and, now thatthe dogs had been disposed of, the odds were level.
Greatly to the consternation of Athol and his chum, Blake began toemit blood-curdling, hollow groans. They were on the point ofreplying to the rascal's shot when Blake signed to them to keep undercover, punctuating his groans by a series of winks that showedplainly that there was plenty of "kick" left in him yet.
The spy showed no immediate haste to follow up what he considered tobe first blood. The powerful rays of the lamp irritated him. Untilthe brilliant light was put out movements would be too risky. Helooked about for something bullet-proof and portable that might serveas a mantlet to cover his progress towards the lamp.
Close at hand was a small teak box containing sand. Blake had placedit on board in case of fire. It was certainly proof against arevolver bullet--perhaps even sufficient to stop a rifle-bullet.
Stretching out his arm the spy grasped the edge of the box and beganto draw it towards him. The act was his undoing, for a keen knifewhistled through the air with unerring aim, and the next instant theGerman's left hand was transfixed and securely pinned to the hardteak.
"Drop that pistol and put your right hand up," ordered Blake, whenthe fellow's cries for mercy had subsided sufficiently for theinventor to make himself heard.
The German obeyed. The excruciating pain had overcome all his cunningand spirit of resistance.
"That's reasonable," declared Blake, possessing himself of thesurrendered weapon. "Now, lads, lash his ankles. Hang it all! Whatpossessed the idiot to start blazing away? Goodness only knows whatdamage he's done to the intricate mechanism. And he expected I'dbegin to pump nickel through my invention in the hope of plugginghim."
"I thought you were hit," remarked Athol.
"Hit? No fear," replied the inventor. "I wanted that fellow to thinkhe had given me a souvenir. It was a jolly good thing I learnt thatSouth American trick of throwing a knife. Didn't think much of it atthe time, but, by Jove! it served its purpose."
Having removed the knife and dressed the German's hand, the airmenmoved their prisoner aft, securing him to a ring-bolt in the floor.Then bidding Dick mount guard over the captive, Blake, accompanied byAthol, searched the shed and its immediate surroundings.
"There is only one of them this time," declared Blake. "Here are hisfootprints. This looks cheerful, too."
He stooped and picked up a couple of detonators and a coil of fuse.The spy had set these on the ground at the foot of the tree,apparently with the intention of fixing them up when he had satisfiedhis curiosity concerning the battleplane.
"It's most fortunate that you fellows suggested spending the night onboard," declared Blake fervently. "The battleplane would have beenblown sky high before morning if I hadn't listened to your advice.Now I think I'll subject our Hun to a little cross-examination."