The Phantom Airman

"Ten boxes of valuables, including the personal property and belongings of one of the passengers," came the reply.

"What, do they belong to one person?"

"Yes, sir."

"What is his name?"

"The Maharajah of Bangapore, sir," returned the wise man of the exchequer, whose task promised to be an easy one in the future, judging by the vast amount of spoil which had already fallen into his lap.

"The Maharajah of Bangapore?" repeated the monarch, raising his hand to his forehead for an instant, as though he would recall some long forgotten episode. "Is he amongst the company present?"

"I believe so."

"Ask him to stand forth."

And the Indian prince, hearing his name called in English, stepped forth and confronted his old enemy of the Mesopotamian campaign. When their eyes met a flash of fire, more eloquent than words, revealed what was in each man's mind. The prince expected to be tortured to death and was prepared for it, for, like all his people, he was brave as well as fierce. At last the robber spoke.

"Prince Jaipur, you are an enemy of mine," he said.

"I know it!"

"Do you expect mercy after the way your tribesmen massacred my men at Kerbela?"

The maharajah shrugged his shoulders, but disdained to reply to this upstart robber chief who styled himself a king.

"Do you know that your life is in my hands?" exclaimed the bandit fiercely.

"I am not afraid of anything you can do, brigand!" hissed the prince, and his voice sounded not unlike the angry, venomous snake in the jungle. Another man might have quailed before those glaring eyes and those hissing tones. But the German quavered not.

"I will give you a kingly choice," he said, "as you are the scion of half a hundred kings in your illustrious line."

"I ask no favours of a common Bedouin robber," snarled the other.

"Listen. I will give you the choice of drinking this deadly poison, or of being dropped ten thousand feet from my aeroplane. Which will you take?"

The prince shuddered slightly, and glanced up into the cloudless blue, as though anticipating what such a death might mean, then looked at the small phial which the brigand held forth in his hand.

"Yes, ten thousand feet!" continued the German, as he noted the anxious look which overcast the Hindoo's face for an instant, as he gazed up into the sky. "Then I will loop the machine, and, with your hands pinioned, you will be thrown out and drop, drop– Which will you choose?"

"I will drink the poison," replied the prince, who had now regained his usual composure.

"Very well. Let him be securely tied to that tree to await our pleasure," and the maharajah was instantly seized by three or four powerful Arabs, and secured to a tree some twenty paces away.

"What about his valuables, sir?" asked Carl.

"Have you examined them?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what do they consist of?" asked the king.

"His jewels, his gold and silver plate, studded with rare gems of priceless value. They are worth five times the value of the specie," whispered Carl.

"And what else? You said there were ten boxes."

"Part of his regalia and numerous ceremonial robes."

"They are all confiscated!" announced the monarch. "The sun will set in another two hours, and at sunset the Indian must die."

"There is nothing else, sir, of much value. All the gold and this personal property has been secured. Here is the list of passengers, for there are scarcely any passports held by the strangers," and here Carl, who had paid a visit to the aerial, whispered something to his chief.

"Good! Then, in your opinion, chancellor, sufficient tribute has now been obtained from these strangers who have crossed our territory without permission," said the bandit aloud for all to hear.

"Yes, sir."

"Then let them board the airship at once. She will be cast adrift in ten minutes."

At this there was a scramble for the gondolas, and very quickly all, save the captain and the navigating officer, were aboard. The judge and the colonel, however, prevailed upon by the maharajah's men, descended again to intercede for the life of the Indian.

"You have taken the man's jewels," said the colonel. "At least you might spare his life."

"You may have his body," remarked the airman, "but he must first drink the phial," and a stern look appeared once more in the robber-bandit's eyes. On this point he was unbending, and remained like adamant.

"The airship is ready now, sir," said the captain, making a final appeal for the life of the maharajah. "I should like to report, at any rate, when I do complete my journey, that all my passengers are safe, though I expect to be two days late with only two engines and this beam wind. Once more, will you release the Indian?"

"Bring him before me!" commanded the monarch at last, with a bored expression, and the Indian, still bound hand and foot, was brought before the pseudo king.

"Unloose his hands," came the order.

"They ask me to spare your life, Indian dog!" continued the robber, addressing the prince in contemptuous tones. "If you sue for it yourself, you may have it, otherwise…" and, instead of completing his sentence, the speaker shook the little phial in the face of the prisoner.

"I will not ask my life of you, serpent!" hissed the captive. "From you I will accept no favours. Robbed of my family heirlooms, my jewels and my household gods, I prefer to die. Give me the poison, and I will show you how a real prince of the royal line of Indus can die!"

For one awful instant, the desert chief glared at his enemy, who had dared to refuse his generous offer. Then, in angry tones, he cried:–

"Indian dog! I offered you mercy, but you spurn the gift of Allah and ask for death. Then take this and drink it!" and he tossed him the phial.

"Stay!" cried half a dozen voices from amongst the group of passengers.

But their expostulations were in vain, for, with an eagerness to hide his disgrace in death, which only a proud oriental can show, the prisoner caught the phial, withdrew the small cork, and drained the contents before his horrified friends could interfere.

The next moment, the body of the maharajah lay prostrate upon the sands of the Hamadian desert.

CHAPTER XIII

THE MISSING AIRSHIP

Horrified and aghast at the foul deed which had been done, the passengers and crew of the air-liner, who had left the gondolas at the cry of consternation which went up, now crowded around the fallen prince. Even those fierce sons of the desert who witnessed the dire act could not restrain an involuntary shudder, but they merely shrugged their shoulders, or remarked: "Kismet! It is the will of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful," and after some such invocation, their piety appeared to be satisfied, for they immediately returned to their treasure.