The Phantom Airman

A deep silence followed these words, but at the end of a few minutes Hans, pointing to the east, said:–

"Look, friends, the moon is rising already. It is getting lighter, and I must go."

Then, untethering his pack-horse, he thanked the strangers for their hospitality, gave them the direction and situation of his cottage, where they would be welcome, should they care to visit him during their stay in the Schwarzwald, and, bidding them adieu, started off on his journey through the forest.

CHAPTER XVII

THE WATCHERS

They watched the Schwarzwalder and his beast of burden disappear into the forest, then for some minutes the two Englishmen, buried in thought, sat by the embers of the fire. Neither spake to his companion for a while, as, deep in contemplation, each endeavoured to fathom in his own mind this secret of the phantom aeroplane, this riddle of the sphinx. At last Keane addressed his colleague.

"This travelling clock-maker has confirmed our theory, Sharpe," he said.

"Yes, the simple fellow has helped us not a little," replied the other.

"We must continue our search without further delay, lest this talkative peasant should himself encounter this genius, and unwittingly announce the presence of two strangers in the forest. That is my great fear now."

"You don't think this fellow misled us, Keane?"

"Why do you ask? He was too dull-witted to be anything in the nature of an accomplice," replied the captain.

"Quite so, but he might have been a tool in the hands of this mystery man," added Sharpe, as a sudden feeling of suspicion shot across his mind.

"In that case we ought to have followed him, but I scarcely think it worth while. A dull-witted man of that type would have been too dangerous to his employer, even when used merely as a tool. The only danger I anticipate from that quarter, unless I am utterly mistaken, is that the fellow may encounter someone in the forest who is engaged in the plot, and thus reveal our presence, as I stated previously," observed Keane, as he began to get his traps together, ready for the march.

"Anyhow, we have learned something from the Schwarzwalder."

"By the way, Sharpe, you might tune up your little wireless pocket 'phone, and ascertain if there are any messages floating around."

"So I will; we might pick up something," replied the junior airman, and the next moment he climbed into a straggling, low-branched tree, uncoiled a small aerial, and, starting his little battery, listened attentively for any stray message that might be floating through the ether.

"Anything?" asked Keane, coming to the foot of the tree.

"Nothing," remarked the other.

"Then we'll push off."

Five minutes later, having adjusted their packs, collected their nets, and having stamped out the remains of the fire, they were ready to start.

"Which path shall we take?" asked Sharpe, for there were two ill-defined, grass-grown tracks which led away from the clearing. One led past Jacob Stendahl's cottage, and had been followed by the Schwarzwalder, and the other, the lesser trodden of the two, led they knew not where.

"Let us take the one on the right," said Keane, indicating the latter. "It is more likely to yield us something," and the next moment they were hidden from sight amid the dense undergrowth of this part of the forest.

Scarcely had they disappeared from view when one of the upper branches of a tree near to the edge of the clearing suddenly appeared to move, then to swing loosely for a second, and drop to the ground. Then for a moment there was silence, save for the call of a nightjar which had been disturbed, but a moment later a dark shadow debouched from the edge of the forest and crossed quietly but quickly to where the fire had been burning a few minutes previously.

A low whistle, repeated twice, brought a similar shadow from the opposite side of the clearing, and the two indistinct, but human shapes, met each other face to face.

"Who were they, Professor?" asked the second arrival of the first.

"Himmel! Ich weiss nicht, Strauss," replied his companion, who was none other than the renowned Professor Rudolf Weissmann, "but I fear that they portend us no good."

"Let us examine the ground to see if they have left any clue behind."

So for the next few minutes the professor and his mechanic searched the ground carefully for any little souvenir which the travellers might have left behind them. And whilst they searched, they talked in low, but eager whispers.

"Did you hear that half-witted Schwarzwalder talking aloud about the Scorpion?" asked the professor.

"Yes. He called it a phantom-bird, did he not?" replied Strauss. "I heard nearly all he said, he spoke so loudly and coarsely."

"Could you hear what the others said?"

"Not a word; they spoke so quietly, save once or twice when they spoke to the clock-maker."

"Nor could I, and that is what makes me so suspicious," returned Weissmann.

"They spoke good German, though," ventured the mechanic.

"Bah! Of course they would. Nevertheless, it's my firm opinion that they're foreigners, and that they're here for some special reason."

"And that reason is?"

"To find out about the Scorpion," snarled the mathematician.

"Ach!" exclaimed the other; "the Scorpionis two thousand miles away."

"Then their next business is to find the aerodrome," said the professor.

"Blitz! that they'll never do except by accident. Think of those live wires waiting for them if they get within a hundred yards of it. We have found six dead men there already; I don't want to dig any more graves," returned Strauss.

They had continued the search for fully ten minutes, and the professor, occasionally flashing his pocket torch, was carefully examining the long grass within a radius of some twelve of fifteen feet of the spot where the fire had been. Wise man that he was, he carried out his final investigation to the leeward of the fire, trusting that the breeze might have carried some paper fragment, used in lighting a pipe or starting the fire, in that direction. Nor was he disappointed. He was just about to conclude his search, however, when his sharp eyes caught sight of a piece of half burnt and twisted paper hidden away amongst the longer grass.

"Donnerwetter!" he exclaimed under his breath, as he flashed his torch upon the paper for a second. "I thought so; here is evidence enough for an execution."

"What is it, mein herr?" asked the mechanic, hastening to his side.

"Do you see that?" said his companion, untwisting the paper once again and flashing a light upon it.

"Ja! ja!" replied the other as he strained his eyes in the attempt to decipher the handwriting on the half-burnt sheet. "But I cannot understand it, for it is in a foreign language."

"It is part of a small fragment of an envelope, and the writing, which is in English, is certainly almost undecipherable, but I can distinguish the letters '…eane'."

"Ach, Himmel! That is Keane!" replied Strauss. "He is one of the aerial police, is he not?"

"You are right, Fritz. This letter was addressed through the English post to Captain Keane, one of Tempest's best men, if not indeed his most brilliant 'brain-wave,'" hissed the professor.

"Donner und blitzen! Then he has come here to search for the Scorpion, and the aerodrome."

"Yes, but look, he only left London a few hours ago, for here is the London postmark in the corner, bearing yesterday's date."