CHAPTER XIIUNMASKED
Thesecret thoughts of Harry Goodall, Captain Link and Miss Chain, whilst at dinner, were of a varied character. The aeronaut’s were of a surprised and bewildered kind, his friend Link’s of a cheerful description, and Miss Chain’s of a mixed and somewhat melancholy order, for she felt sorry for her employer, who had been suddenly and unexpectedly thrown among people whom he had been studiously neglecting, and who would not probably be so genial had they known who he was. Miss Chain was hopeful, however, that Miss Dove would dispel the aeronaut’s reserve, for she was trying to make him feel at home, and was unquestionably proving attractive to him. Even the squire thought that he had never seen his daughter so animated and captivating before. Captain Link was sure that Harry’s visit could not possibly have a bad effect, for his excellent qualities would soon be appreciated; nor was he slowto perceive that, if the Doves’ expected friend turned out to be Falcon, the man whom he had seen that morning with his confederate Croft, it would prove to be no ill wind that had blown them to Wedwell Park, so that the captain inwardly exulted in the idea that their rather risky cruise would turn out to be the luckiest he had ever made, as Mr William Goodall had assured him that, if he could only persuade his nephew to go to Wedwell either by rail or road, he would be booked for promotion, though of course, it never entered the merchant’s mind that Harry would ever present himself there in his balloon, much less that he would do so in Captain Link’s company, who had been afraid of their hovering over Essex, and had very likely been the cause of the balloon wandering into Sussex, and which by a fluke dropped among the Doves of Wedwell Park.
Miss Dove, meanwhile, seemed to be more and more taken with the aeronaut’s unpretending manners, and to be listening intently to his excellent conversation.
Captain Link, who was delighted with Miss Chain’s intelligent remarks and lady-like manners, knew that, but for the fortunate circumstance of having been introduced to her by Goodall, he would not have been where he was, so that he had to hide his good spirits lest they should present too great a contrast to his friend’s somewhat depressed manner, which had been noticed by the squire, so he ordered theservant to replenish the gentleman’s wine glass by way of cheering up the man of science; and the host, moreover, asked for his opinion as to the wonderful statements which had recently appeared as to “Flying being made Easy” and “Aerial Navies grappling in the Central Blue.”
Thus challenged, the aeronaut’s eyes brightened considerably; he seemed, however, as if he were reluctant to give full play to what he really thought, though it was clear that he had sentiments of his own which he was capable of imparting if he were so disposed.
The squire’s daughter seeing this, and being determined to draw him out if possible, said,—
“I hope the day will never come when the anarchists will use these scientific appliances to pour down upon the people’s heads tons of fire and flame in the dreadful way we have read about.”
“Indeed,” said the aeronaut, “I think it much more probable that the constituted authorities may turn upon the heads of the anarchists some kind of check in that form—that is, if ever they combine in such an immense array that the latest types of guns cannot disperse them, as Maxim’s guns did the hordes of Matabeleland.”
“What do you say to that, sir?” asked the squire of his nautical visitor.
“I quite agree with the aeronaut,” replied themariner; “and I may mention,” continued he, “that balloons, and parachutes as well, have only recently been proposed for use by my friend to illustrate how applicable they are for such purposes in proper hands, and he has shown that they can be advantageously employed without waiting for the aid of flying machines and directable aerostats, which have been so long promised, and yet I doubt, if the sum of £10,000 were offered to any man who could unmistakably demonstrate ‘flight’ before a committee of reliable men, that there would be found anyone able to entitle himself to it!”
“Yes,” said the squire, “that would be a fair enough way of settling these pretensions.”
“But don’t you believe, Miss Dove,” added the aeronaut, “that the continental military balloonists can direct their air ships so that those anarchical foreigners can bombard our coasts, cities and towns with dynamite in the way they propose?”
“You do not think, then, that flying is to be so easily accomplished?”
“Not just yet. Futile attempts may be made, and many narrow escapes recorded.”
“But couldn’t aerial navies from the Continent come to our shores?”
“Of course they can, but not by the novel style of flying which is talked about. No, Miss Dove, if men or machines can fly, the inventors of themneed not wait for war to make their fortunes. Merchants and capitalists would find it to their advantage to handsomely remunerate such persons to use their wings for mercantile and other purposes—of course men will embark in Quixotic performances.”
“But if they do not succeed,” said the squire, “it must heavily handicap and tax poor inventors to pay for their schemes.”
“Yes, indeed, they always did pay for them; but I daresay you are aware, squire, that syndicates and benevolent capitalists might be found to assist bold and incautious financiers to float them.”
“What do you say, my dear sir?” asked the squire. “You are awakening—that is, enlightening us surprisingly; but do let us fill up our glasses—one almost requires a stimulant to face even the thought of what may be going on in these times. I only heard yesterday of a suicidal attempt at flying that came off at Haywards Heath by some foreigners.”
“Then,” said Edith Dove, “you do not believe in all these wonderful modern experiments?”
“Not in some of them. A few scientific inventors of recent date may be sanguine, clever and well-intentioned men, but not all of them, I fear.”
“How pleased, Edith,” said her father, “Mr Falcon would be to take part in these discussions. What a pity he is not here!”
“The doctor thought he might arrive later, papa, and so he may be here yet.”
“Our friend Falcon,” said the squire, “has been a great traveller, and represents a firm of shipowners in London and Sydney.”
Fortunately, the squire did not observe that his reference to Mr Falcon fell like a bomb-shell among his guests, who controlled, as far as possible, any outward indication of their feelings, though they knew who was meant by the squire in his last utterance, and as the aeronaut had been looking at Falcon’s photo on the wall, he was not in reality so much taken by surprise as were Miss Chain and Captain Link.
“These gentlemen may possibly have met Mr Falcon, Edith,” said the squire.
“May I ask if that is his portrait?” asked the aeronaut of Miss Dove, pointing to the photo on the wall.
“Yes! you have been studying the face, haven’t you?”
“I know the face, but I am not very familiar with the name,” replied the aeronaut.
“I should think, Edith, that this gentleman,” turning to the mariner, “is the more likely to know Mr Falcon,” said her father.
“I certainly know a Mr Falcon,” replied the captain, “and I’ll have a look at his likeness presently.”
“And the young lady,” said Miss Dove, “is she at all acquainted with him?”
“I have seen the shadow ofaMr Falcon, but the person I have such vivid recollections of was named, I think, Filcher Falcon, and may, or may not, be the same man,” replied Miss Chain.
“Did you mind the name Filcher, Edith?” asked the squire. “We may, after all,” he continued, “be alluding to two distinct persons.”
At this point, Miss Dove gave her father a look which he appeared to understand, for the financier was not, for a time, further mentioned.
Poor Miss Chain had not yet seen whether the likeness on the wall, and the “shadow man” represented one and the same person, but she strongly suspected that it was so, though she and the captain suppressed their curiosity for a while, but they had their misgivings; and as to the squire and his daughter, they both saw that they had been treading upon dangerous ground, and that the mystery could not very well be cleared up just then, so by way of changing the subject, Squire Dove asked the aeronaut if he intended dropping in Wedwell Park.
“I am afraid I came to you, more from necessity than desire,” was the candid reply. “We were advancing towards the sea, after having journeyed by a strong upper current over the clouds from Essex, when your property, squire, was found tobe the most suitable and tempting spot on which to alight.”
“Then what induced you to hesitate, if I may take the liberty of asking, before you at length condescended to drop among us?”
“We were divided in opinion as to the advisability of coming down; but your persuasive invitation, coupled with Miss Dove’s appeal, decided me to do so, though I certainly doubted whether ballooning would be acceptable to you.”
“I hope,” said Miss Dove, “that Doctor Peters’s rude remark did not give offence.”
“I hope not,” added the squire. “He is an obstinate man, but I was not aware that he felt a prejudice against aerial research.”
“It may be,” said the aeronaut, “that he is in the confidence of the gentleman whose photo faces me.”
“Umph!” thought the captain, “Harry is fizzing like a bottle of champagne in his balloon car.”
“Yes,” replied the squire, “Doctor Peters and our expected visitor may or may not entertain similar views, but I never heard them allude to aerostatics or balloonists.”
“No doubt, papa,” said Miss Dove, “that this pleasant and instructive visit will enlighten us a good deal.”
“I do believe it will, my dear,” said her father, thoughtfully.
“I wish,” said Miss Dove, “that we could address our friends by their names. May we, however,” turning towards the mariner, “venture to beg of the—captain, to tell us how he and the lady liked their voyage?”
Captain Link having bowed in recognition of Miss Dove’s guess as to his rank proceeded to state that, although he had often crossed the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, besides having been round the world more than once, yet he had not, until that day, ever been up in a balloon, nor had the young lady, whose acquaintance he had but recently made in a most romantic manner, in fact, they were both much indebted to the aeronaut for their first aerial journey, but seeing the aeronaut frowning at this injudicious communication, he must beg to be excused from saying anything further.
“Oh, no,” cried Miss Dove, “that is too bad, captain—why, your story was just becoming so interesting.”
“Indeed, you will vastly disappoint us, captain, unless you proceed,” said the squire. “We are on the tiptoe of expectation to profit by every word that either of you might utter.”
“Besides, we may never have another chance, papa!” said Miss Dove, anxiously.
“No, indeed, for such visits may be, like angels’, few and far between, so youmust finish up, captain,” cried the squire, “for I tell you candidlythat we are already under a spell. All that you say leads us to regard you as aerial messengers with the best of intentions, telling us something for our good. I beg of you to continue.”
“Well, then, if I must do so, I may as well tell you that this young lady had been acquainted with a gentleman who was not of the ancient knightly order; on the contrary, he had been most heartless, unfair and cruel to her, so that, when my friend there told me of the way the said gentleman had behaved, I felt as if I should like to take up the cudgels for the injured one, and while thinking so, he most unexpectedly turned up but made off immediately afterwards, and well he did so, for an officious detective was after him. Now, would you believe it, not so many hours ago, this so-called astute officer suddenly attempted to arrest me, believing that I was this suspected person—whose name I need not mention.”
“Are you listening, Edith? Pay attention. There might have been some personal resemblance. The captain admits that,” said Squire Dove.
“I am so intent, papa, on what the captain is telling us, that I can barely answer. I have not lost a word; but,” she added turning to the captain, “do please go on, your experience is so very interesting.”
“The detective soon found out his mistake and was taken to task about it. It was an amusing scene,”continued the captain, “for I was on the point of figuring as a belligerent, but my friend stopped me from committing myself.”
“Was it not that honest policeman, captain, who did so?” interrupted the aeronaut.
“So it was; he acted a good part, and will be a great man some day.”
“What was his name?” asked the squire.
“We must not tell names, according to our agreement,” said the captain, laughingly.
“How trying!” said the squire.
“Oh, you might just tell us the policeman’s name and the locality,” said Miss Dove, persuasively, and the captain was half-inclined to do so, when a servant knocked at the door and handed a note to Miss Dove.
“Won’t it be as well,” said the squire, taking out his watch, “to go and see about a captive ascent? You must not think of leaving us to-night, friends, for, to be candid with you, neither I nor my daughter can rest until we know more of you, and hear the sequel to your adventure.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Dove, “we can now very easily understand why you didn’t wish names to be known.”
“We will talk that over after the ascents,” said the squire. “I daresay my gamekeeper, who is outside, wants to know if we are ready to ascend. MissDove will take your lady friend upstairs; but, dear me, she is looking at the photograph of Mr Falcon, and has turned quite pale. Do take her to your room, Edith, and don’t forget to give orders about the other rooms for our friends. And now, gentlemen,” added the squire, “do be seated for five minutes and taste my port wine. Here’s health and long life to you both. Ah! I’m truly glad to find that we are brothers in a masonic sense. It strikes me that I shall know your names before long, and those other two names as well. I mean of the unprincipled gentleman and the able policeman.”
“We shall feel bound to let you know them before we separate,” said the aeronaut.
“I have just been thinking,” observed Squire Dove, “that there is something very remarkable in your having all identified the photographic likeness on the wall. Three to one is long odds. I suppose, if Mr Falcon should come in, you will have no objection to meeting him?”
“I should not,” said the aeronaut.
“Nor I,” added the captain, “if I am not again mistaken for him by a detective as I was this morning.”
“You are letting the cat out of the bag now, captain,” said the squire. “But really I thought you were alluding to our Mr Falcon in your humorous story, that is to say if you were not indulging in fiction.”
“What I said was all literally true, squire.”
“I can answer for that,” added the aeronaut.
“You amaze me completely,” cried the squire; “but would you, if Mr Falcon should turn up outside or here, tell him so to his face?”
“Yes, and a great deal more,” replied Captain Link; “but Falcon would not have the audacity to remain for a second in our presence.”
“That is saying a good deal! And I begin to think he will not come this evening, as he would perhaps hear that your balloon had come down here. I believe, candidly, gentlemen, that every word you have said must have some foundation; but I am very vexed to suppose that I have been deceived in this man, for I took him for a great and successful financier. However, we can enter into these points by-and-by, as I daresay there are many friends and neighbours in the park by this time. Mr Falcon may be in their midst, for all I know.”
“He is more likely to be in ambush not far off,” said the aeronaut.
“Indeed! you speak, my friends, with such an air of confidence, that I shall not hesitate to suggest that we start down at once and inquire if anything has been seen or heard of him. Someone is knocking, I think,” added the squire. “Oh, Lucy, come in. What’s the matter?”
“If you please, sir, Miss Dove says that, as theyoung lady is not very well, she would like to remain with her a little longer, but she wishes that the gentlemen should not delay their captive ascents, although there will be moonlight early this evening. And Miss Dove wishes you to read this short telegram, sir—just received.”
“Very well, Lucy, then we will go down to the park at once, and say I hope the lady will soon be herself again.”
After Lucy had left the room, the squire read the short note.
“It is merely a hoax, I should say,” added the squire, “but judge for yourselves. This is what it says,—
“‘Miss Dove is warned to be careful how she walks about Wedwell Park and other parts for the next few days, without she has someone with her.“‘S. W.’
“‘Miss Dove is warned to be careful how she walks about Wedwell Park and other parts for the next few days, without she has someone with her.
“‘S. W.’
“There is no signature attached,” added the squire, “beyond the initials S. W.; they do not amount to much. S. W. might be Sam Watson, an officious neighbour.”
“Or Simon Warner,” thought the aeronaut, and then turning to the squire, he said,—
“Will you allow me just to see the handwriting?”
“You wouldn’t know it,” replied the squire; “it isa telegram, remember. Still, Falcon’s absence, if persisted in, will give rise to fears which will be greatly increased if he does not show up by to-morrow; his not coming to-day, when he faithfully appointed to be here to dinner, attaches great weight to what you have all three said.”
“I am afraid,” replied the aeronaut, as he looked at the captain, “that we have done wrong in not going farther a-field, as we are creating unpleasant apprehensions.”
“Your opportune arrival here, on the contrary, may prove of the utmost service to me and to my daughter; and now, after that frank admission, we must really be moving towards the balloon; but before we leave, I will just ask Bennet to step in.”
“Have you heard anything, Bennet, about that silly attempt at flight near Haywards Heath?”
“Not much in it, squire, I believe.”
“Who were the parties?”
“Two Dutchmen, I was told. The man who tried to fly was a little man called Professor Scudder, and his employer, I heard, was a fine, big, full-bearded gentleman, but his beard and wig were false.”
“How could they know that, Bennet?”
“There was an explosion, squire, and he was blown into a horse pond, where his wig and beard came off.”
“What next shall we hear of? Quite a mountebank performance, I suppose,” said the squire, with a loud laugh.
“Something that way. It was thought, squire, Professor Scudder was shot into a clump of trees, and had a narrow escape.”
“May I ask your gamekeeper how long since this affair came off?” asked the aeronaut.
“Barely a fortnight since, sir,” said Bennet.
“Soon after I alighted on the Essex Marsh,” observed Harry Goodall to Captain Link, suggestively.