The Zeppelin Destroyer: Being Some Chapters of Secret History

“Well – let’s hope so,” laughed the colonel. “But that speech is full of grim humour – is it not?”

And with that we were compelled to agree.

Chapter Twenty Three

The “L39.”

Having taken Colonel and Mrs Cator into our confidence, and they having invited Roseye to stay with them, we were all, on the following day, duly installed at Swalecliffe Park.

Without delay I called upon the officer in charge of the listening-post – the whereabouts of which I do not intend to disclose – and, to my joy, found that he was a man named Moncrieff whom I had met many times at Hendon, and also at the club.

Having told him of my intention to have a “go” at the next enemy airship that might come over, he readily promised that upon receiving the next alarm, he would make a point of ringing me up at Swalecliffe.

Then, with the machine in readiness and already tested and re-tested, and also with a full petrol-tank, there was nothing further to do but to draw it out into the park each night, and await the alarm.

It was on the first day of March when we had come down in Swalecliffe Park as strangers – on a Wednesday I remember – and the following days had been fully occupied with our preparations, while throughout each night Teddy and I, ready dressed for flight, sat in the colonel’s study wherein the telephone was installed.

Thursday night passed quite uneventfully. During the earlier hours the colonel and Roseye sat with us, but the barometer being low, and the weather gusty, we had, even at ten o’clock, decided that no Zeppelin would risk crossing the North Sea.

On Friday night the four of us played bridge till half-past four, the Theeds being, of course, on duty outside. We had the consolation of knowing that, though the Invisible Hand might be searching for us, it had not yet discovered our place of concealment. Each evening we tested the telephone – through the local exchange – out to the listening-post, and each evening Moncrieff, who was in charge, answered cheerily:

“Don’t fear, old chap, I’ll give you a ring as soon as anything is going on.”

Saturday, the fourth of March, was bright and warm, but just before sunset a sharp easterly breeze sprang up and, with a falling barometer, we knew that our vigilance would remain unrewarded. So again we played bridge until Roseye grew sleepy and then retired. Certainly we did not appear to meet with any luck.

On Sunday morning we all went to the pretty little church of Swalecliffe, and in the afternoon I went out for a pleasant stroll with Roseye through the park and leafless woods.

Again I pressed her to reveal to me what she knew regarding that mysterious woman who was in association with the fellow Eastwell.

But once again she steadfastly declined to reveal anything.

“No, no!” she protested. “Please don’t ask me, Claude.”

“But surely I have a right to know!” I declared. “Your enemies are mine; and we are fighting them together. We have agreed to marry, Roseye, therefore you may surely trust me with your secret!”

I had halted at a stile before crossing our path leading into the wood, and, as I held her hand in mine, I looked straight into her big blue eyes.

She drew a long breath, and her gaze wavered. I saw that she now relented, and that she was unable to refute my argument.

I pressed her hand and, in a deep, earnest voice, urged:

“Tell me darling. Do tell me?”

Again her chest heaved and fell beneath her furs.

“Well, Claude. It’s – it’s a strange story – as strange as any woman has ever lived to tell,” she said at last, with great hesitation and speaking very slowly. “On that morning when I left I received a letter purporting to come from you, and urging me to meet you in secret on the departure platform of the Great Northern station at King’s Cross. Naturally, much puzzled, I went there, wondering what had happened. While waiting, a woman – the woman you have seen – came up to me and told me that you had sent her – that you wished to see me in secret in connexion with your invention, but that you were in hiding because you feared that some spies intended to obtain knowledge of the truth. She said that there were enemy spies on every hand, and that it would be best to go over to the hotel, and there wait till night before we went North to Grantham, whither you had gone.”

“Grantham!” I echoed. “I’ve not been in Grantham for years.”

“But I believed that you were there, so plausible was the woman’s story,” she replied. “We left at night, travelling in a first-class compartment together. On the way, I suddenly suspected her. Somehow I did not like the look in those strange eyes of hers, and I accused her of deceiving me. Indeed, while dozing, I had seen her carefully take my chatelaine, put something into it, and drop it out of the window. We were in a tunnel, I believe.”

“Then it was that woman who put the cipher-message into your card-case!” I exclaimed. “Yes, go on.”

“Yes,” she replied. “I sprang up, and tried to pull the communication-cord as we came out of the tunnel, but she prevented me. She pushed a sponge saturated with some pungent-smelling liquid into my face, and then I knew nothing more until I found myself in a small room in a cottage somewhere remote in the country.”

“Then you were detained there – eh?”

“Yes. Forcibly. That awful woman tried, by every means in her power, to force or induce me to reveal the details of the experiments which you and Teddy were making at Gunnersbury. But I refused. Ah! how that hell-fiend tortured me day after day!

“She nearly drove me mad by those fearful ordeals which, in a hundred ways, she put upon me – always promising to release me if I would but reveal details of what we had discovered. But I refused – refused always, Claude – because I knew that she was an enemy, and victory must be ours if I remained silent. Days – those terrible days – passed – so many that I lost count of them – yet I knew that the woman with the cruel eyes of a leopard had dosed me with some drug that sapped my senses, and she held me irrevocably in her power, prompted no doubt by somebody who meant to work evil also upon you. In the end I must have lost my reason. I think she must have given me certain drugs in order to confuse me as to the past. Then, one day, I found myself in the town of Grantham, inquiring for the station. I was in a maid’s clothes, and in them I eventually returned to you. And you – Claude – you know all the rest.” And she burst into a torrent of tears.

“Yes,” I said slowly. “And that blackguard Lionel Eastwell is the man who has directed all this intricate and dastardly intrigue against us.”

Then I took my love into my arms, and pressing her to me, soothed her tears with my passionate kisses.

What she had revealed to me amazed me.

In the evening, just after the Sunday-night supper, Benton, the fat old butler, entered the drawing-room and, approaching me, said:

“Mr Moncrieff is on the telephone, sir.”

I sprang up with alacrity and, a few seconds later, spoke to my friend at the listening-post.

“You there, Munro?” he asked. “We’ve just had a message to say that three Zeppelins are crossing the North Sea in the direction of the Norfolk coast.”

“Right!” I said, and shut off at once. There was no time to lose.

In a moment I told them of the alarm. Without much delay Teddy and I slipped into our air-kit, while Theed, with the machine wheeled out into the park, reported that all was in readiness.

I met Roseye in the corridor above the central staircase of the great old-world house, and there kissed her fondly.

“For your dear sake I go, and for the sake of my King and country!” I whispered. “Good-bye, my darling. Keep a stout heart until you hear of me again!”

“But – oh! – oh! – I fear, Claude!” she cried anxiously, clinging to me.

“No, my darling. We must, to-day, all make sacrifices. There must be no fear. I shall be back with you to-morrow.”

And then again I kissed her and disengaged those loving, clinging arms about me.

Five minutes later Teddy and I were away in the air.

The night was dull and overcast with a promise of clearing – yet bitterly cold.

Of course with our big engine roaring we could hear nothing of the enemy’s approach, but I deemed it wise to rise high and, at the same time, to follow the railway line from Colchester towards London, because that, no doubt, was the route which the airships would follow.

The alarm had been given, trains being darkened and brought to a standstill, station and signal-lights extinguished and towns blotted out, I quickly lost sight of the railway track and could only go very slowly to save petrol in case of a chase, and guide myself by my compass.

From a town somewhere on the coast I could see the long scintillating beams of a searchlight striking across the dark night sky, first directed in one quarter and then in another. I think it must have been the searchlight on the coast at T – .