The Zeppelin Destroyer: Being Some Chapters of Secret History

“What do you make of Lionel’s questions?” I asked her ten minutes later, when Eastwell had risen and left, having taken the gentle hint that I wished to be alone with Roseye over the tea and muffins.

“I don’t know what to make of them, dear,” replied the girl, seating herself again in the big chair.

“Well, I’ve been watching him for some days,” I said slowly. “And, do you know that, strictly between ourselves, I believe that he has some suspicion of the direction of our experiments, and is pumping us to see what he can glean!”

“How can he possibly know? He is, of course, well aware that you’ve been devising new propellers, but he can know nothing of our real work. Neither Teddy nor Theed would ever let drop a single word, and, as you know, I’ve never breathed a sentence at home.”

“He spoke as though he knew that the enemy intended more raids – but not just at present.”

Roseye suddenly stirred herself and stared at me in amazement with those big expressive eyes of hers.

“What? do you think – do you really suspect that Lionel Eastwell is our enemy, Claude?” she asked, suddenly pale and breathless.

“Well – perhaps not exactly that,” I replied hesitatingly. “Only his queer questions, naturally make one think. We know we have enemies, clever, unscrupulous ones who have not hesitated to attempt to take my life. Therefore we must both be wary – extremely wary – for we never know where the next pitfall may be concealed.”

“I quite agree with all that, dear,” answered Roseye, looking at me earnestly. “But I really can’t think that Lionel is anything else than one of our best friends. At least he’s been a really good chum to me, ever since we first met. No,” she added decisively, “I’m convinced that no suspicion can attach to him. Such an idea, Claude, is to me, too utterly absurd.”

“Yes. Well, I suppose you’re right, dearest,” I replied with a sigh. “Women always see so very much farther than men in matters of this sort.”

And I rose and, crossing to her chair, kissed her fondly upon the lips.

“I’m sorry – very sorry indeed, dearest, that I’ve cast any reflection upon your friend,” I said in deep apology. “Do please forgive me, and we’ll never mention the subject again.”

Chapter Nine

Contains More Curious Facts

One afternoon a week later, when out at Hendon, I heard accidentally from a man I knew – one of the instructors at the Grahame-White Aviation School – that Eastwell was very queer, and in bed.

The weather proved bad for flying, therefore I sent Theed off and returned to town. Teddy had gone down to the naval air-station at Yarmouth to see the test of a new seaplane, so I went along to look up Lionel at his rooms in Albemarle Street.

His man, a thin-faced, dark-haired fellow named Edwards, who admitted me, said that his master had had a bad attack of something, the true import of which the doctor had failed to diagnose.

I found him lying in bed in his narrow but artistic bachelor bedroom, looking very wan and pale.

“Hulloa, Claude!” he cried with sudden joy, as I entered. “Awfully good of you to come in, old chap! I’ve been horribly queer these last three days, but I’ll be fit again in a day or two, the doctor says. Well – what’s the news? How are the boys out at Hendon?”

“All right. I was there this morning. Harrington had rather a bad smash yesterday afternoon, I hear. Came down outside Ruislip, and made an unholy mess.”

“Not hurt, I hope?”

“Tore his face and hands a bit – that’s all. But his biplane is in scraps, they say.”

He pointed to the box of cigarettes, and I took one. Then, when I had seated myself at his bedside, I saw that he had newspapers scattered everywhere, including the Paris Matin, the Journal, and the Rome Tribuna. That was the first time I had known that our friend was a linguist.

“Well,” he asked. “What about the Zeppelin raids? Any more news?”

He had returned to the subject by which he seemed obsessed. Yet, after all, this was not surprising, for many people talked air-raids incessantly. One section of the public, as usual, blamed the authorities, while the other supported them.

“Well,” I said cheerily, “there’s a new invention they are all talking of at Hendon to-day. Somebody has claimed to be able to construct a biplane which will rise from the ground without running, and can attain any speed from ten to two hundred miles an hour.”

“Phew! That’s interesting,” exclaimed Lionel, raising himself upon his elbow, and taking a sip of a glass of barley-water at his side. “And who is this wonderful man who has such a wonderful scheme?”

“Oh, I forget his name,” I said. “But the theory, as far as I can gather, is rather a good one. He can rise so quickly.”

“How?”

“Well,” I replied. “From what I can hear, there is a kind of rotary wing – not a propeller and not a thing which can be classed as a helicoptic.”

Lionel Eastwell grew intensely interested in the new invention which everybody at the aerodrome was discussing.

“Yes,” he said. “I follow. Go on, Claude. Tell me all you’ve heard about it. The whole thing sounds most weird and wonderful.”

“Well,” I said, “from what I can find out, the machine is not designed to screw itself through the air in the direction of its axis, or, by pushing the air downwards, to impart upward motion to the structure, as a screw propeller in water imparts a forward motion to the vessel by pushing the water backwards. The biplane is designed to obtain by a rotary motion the same upward thrust in opposition to the downward pull of gravity as the flapping wings, and the passive outspread wings of birds, and to obtain it by the blades being projected through the air in such a manner as to extract and utilise the practically constant energy of the expansive force of the air.”

“By Jove!” my friend exclaimed, stirring himself in his bed. “That theory is very sound indeed – the soundest I’ve ever heard. Who’s invented it?”

“As I’ve told you, I’ve forgotten,” I replied. “But what does it matter? There are hosts of new inventions every month, and the poor misguided public who put their money into them generally lose it. But I quite agree that the general idea of this is splendid. The war-inventions authorities ought at once to take it up hot and strong. The inventor is, no doubt, an ingenious man of thought and knowledge – whoever he may be. But alas! nobody ever meets with very much encouragement in aeronautics.”

“No,” he said, pillowing his head comfortably. “It is all so mysterious. We take on a wild-cat idea one day and manufacture machines that are declared to work miracles. Then, next week, we abandon the type altogether, and woo some other smooth-tongued inventor.”

“That’s just it,” I laughed. “If the authorities could only adopt some really reliable type to fight Zeppelins. But alas! it seems that they can’t,” I added.

For a few seconds he remained silent. I saw that he was reflecting deeply.

“Well,” he said. “We’ve established listening-posts all round London for its protection.”

“A real benefit they are!” I laughed. “We have officers and men listening all night, it is true. Of course as a picturesque fiction in order to allay public curiosity they publish photographs of men listening to things like gramophone-trumpets.”

“Exactly. The theory of that new invention is extremely sound. That’s my opinion.”

“And mine also,” I said. “I hear that the inventor has told the authorities that if they will assist him to complete his machine – which I expect is a costly affair – he will be able to carry out daily raids on Cuxhaven, Essen, Düsseldorf, and even as far as Berlin; carrying several tons of explosives.”

“How many?” asked my friend.

“Oh! four or five it is said.”

“Phew!” remarked Lionel, again stirring in his bed. “That sounds really healthy – doesn’t it?”

“Yes – the realisation of the dream of every flying-man to-day,” I said.

Then our conversation drifted into another channel, and, half an hour later, I left him.

During the past few days Teddy and I had been very busy with our own invention, and had made a number of further experiments down at Gunnersbury.

We could easily direct the electric current upon those insulated steel guys around our distant wireless-pole, but our difficulty was how to increase our power without increasing the bulk of the apparatus which we should be compelled to take up in the monoplane for purposes of attacking a Zeppelin.

There was a limit to the weight which my Breguet with its 200 horse-power engines would carry, and though, of course, we believed it would be unnecessary to use bombs, yet some should be carried for purposes of defence, as well as a Lewis gun.