The aeroplane acquired by Halliday could be dismounted in three parts, so that it could easily have been taken to pieces and packed for transfer to London. But the race forThe Momentprize was to take place within seven days, and Dan wished to familiarize himself with the machine as much as was possible in the interval. For this reason he decided to go by air to the metropolis, taking the journey in easy flights, with intervals of rest between. He therefore arranged to send his baggage back to town with Freddy, and carried only a small black bag containing absolutely necessary personal effects. Freddy did not object to this plan, as he did not wish to leave Mildred sooner than was necessary. Therefore Dan started and Laurance remained behind to pass golden hours in the girl's society. However, he promised his friend to be in London within two days. And as Halliday, besides covering the hundred and sixty-odd miles in short flights, desired to practise aviation in the open spaces of the country before getting to the capital, it was not needful for Freddy to return to his business until forty-eight hours had passed. This arrangement suited both the young men very well. Vincent, who was now as hot in Dan's favor as he had been cold, presided at the start, and again and again went over various details in connection with the machine, which was much dearer to him than any child could have been. Now that his objections had been set aside by the intervention of Mrs. Jarsell, the inventor was desperately anxious that Dan should win the race, as such a triumph would undoubtedly show the value of the new-fangled biplane. Not that Vincent wished for the money, or even for the glory, but he very greatly desired to show other inventors that he was their master. His vanity, being purely concerned with the result of nights and days of meditation, could only be gratified by actual proof that he had conquered the air. Not entirely that is, for Vincent was far too thorough in his genius to believe that Rome could be built in a day; but, at all events, he trusted that his machine would reveal itself as the best that any man had yet constructed. So far as that was concerned, Halliday, accustomed to aviation, believed that the sour old man had succeeded. "If I don't win the race, it won't be your fault, Mr. Vincent," Dan assured him, as he stepped into the pilot's box, and, with this farewell speech, the inventor expressed himself very well content. He did not expect impossibilities, and he saw that the man to whom he had entrusted his darling airship was both cool and enthusiastic, qualities which go far toward complete success. It was a calm day, with scarcely any wind, when Dan began his flight, and as the biplane could easily attain sixty miles an hour he would have had no difficulty in reaching London early in the afternoon. But he did not make straight for the south, but circled gradually down to Rugby, where he proposed to remain for the night. Dawdling in the air, it was five hours before he alighted outside the town, and feeling weary with the strain on his nerves--for the machine required dexterous handling--he determined to rest. Without much difficulty he found a friendly farmer, who was willing that the airship should be housed in an empty barn for the night. When all was safe and Halliday had arranged that no one should enter the barn, he sought out a cheap inn on the borders of the place to rest for the night, within watching-distance of his craft. Next morning, after breakfast, he concluded to start again, but after a visit to the barn to see that all was well, he returned to the inn for an hour. It was necessary, he thought, to consider the situation and his future plans, and he wished for solitude to do so. Owing to his fatigue, he had not been able to think much on the previous night before sleep overtook him. The plan, which Dan intended to carry into effect when he reached Town, was to force Penn into confessing what he actually knew concerning the perfume. He had obviously spoken falsely as to his being its sole possessor in England, since Mrs. Jarsell had given the like scent to her old governess. Yet, why should Penn lie in this fashion, unless there was some secret connected with the perfume, which he desired to keep concealed. And assuredly the scent had clung round the clothes of the dead man. Dan determined to force Penn into confession, and that could only be done by frightening him greatly. To carry out this plan, Halliday wrote to the man asking him for an interview, and when he came--as Dan was certain he would--intended, in some way, to inveigle him into taking a flight. Once Penn was in the air his fears could be played upon to some purpose. At least Dan thought so, and was eager to make the experiment. Of course, the young man did not suspect Mrs. Jarsell of being connected in any way with crime of any sort. Still it was strange that the perfume from Sumatra should form a link between her and Sir Charles Moon, with Penn intervening. It was also strange that Mrs. Pelgrin should hint that Mrs. Jarsell had secrets. She had not said as much in so many words, but the general trend of her cautious conversation went to show that Mrs. Jarsell was not entirely open and aboveboard. The landlady had wondered where the owner of the Grange got her money. Now why should she so wonder, unless she had proofs that the said money was not come by honestly? And why, also, should she, in a quite unnecessary way, mention her nephew, who was the Thawley station porter--friendly with Mrs. Jarsell to such an extent that there was a chance of his getting a legacy? Ladies of wealth do not make friends of railway porters without reason, and Dan wished to learn the reason in this particular case. By a diplomatic question he had ascertained from Mrs. Pelgrin that her nephew was the sole Sheepeak person employed at the station. Consequently he would naturally be the sole person who knew Mrs. Jarsell and all about her; therefore it was not impossible that the lady befriended the man so that he might not speak of her visits to town. Yet why should he not do so, should Mrs. Jarsell's doings be entirely honest? Then there were three motor cars, a quite unnecessary number for a lady to keep, especially as, according to her own story, she went out little and spent most of her time in attending to Miss Armour. On the whole, although his suspicions were vague, Dan had an idea that Mrs. Jarsell's doings would not bear the light of day. Still--and especially since she had procured him the biplane--he would not have troubled about her rustic affairs save for the fact of the perfume. It might be--and this he hoped to discover--that Penn's confession would show more plainly the link which connected Mrs. Jarsell with the Hampstead crime. Yet, on the face of it, the very idea seemed monstrous, and Dan scorned himself for his folly as he wrote the letter to Penn. Nevertheless, something stronger than himself drove him to post the letter. Afterwards, to get the unpleasant taste of conspiring out of his mouth, the young man wrote a lover-like epistle to Lillian, telling her about his capture of the aeroplane. "You and Mrs. Bolstreath must come and see the start of the race at Blackheath," wrote Dan, "and your mere presence will inspire me to do my very best to win. So much hangs on my gaining this race, as I want the money to prosecute the search for your father's assassin!" Then Halliday left business for pleasure, and, telling Lillian that he adored her to distraction, urged her not to see too much of Lord Curberry. Finally, he declared that he was hungering for a glimpse of her angel face, and now that he was returning to London intended to call and see her, despite the prohibition of Sir John. There was much more passionate writing to the same effect, and the letter ended with sentiments of lively and lofty devotion. If another man had written the letter Dan would have smiled at its vehemence, since the scribe cast himself under Miss Moon's dainty feet to be trampled upon. But as Dan was the author of the epistle, he only regretted that he could not say more ardent things than he had set down. To such lengths does the passion of love carry the most matter-of-fact of men; and Halliday certainly prided himself upon being a very up-to-date child of this materialistic age, believing in nothing he could not see, or touch, or feel. The letters having been posted, and the bill paid, and the black bag packed, Dan took his way to the barn of the friendly farmer. He found quite a number of people before the great doors, as the news that an aviator was in the neighborhood had spread rapidly. The farmer did not wish to take any rent for the night's lodging of the aeroplane, but as it had been guarded so carefully and was housed so comfortably, Halliday insisted on the man having some recompense for his kindness. Then, with the assistance of three or four willing onlookers, the machine was wheeled out into the meadow wherein the barn stood. It was close upon mid-day when Dan started, and the spectators gasped with awe and delighted surprise when the biplane, like a big dragon-fly, soared into the cloudy sky. Willing to give them pleasure, since an airship was not a common sight in the neighborhood, Halliday did some fancy flying, and circled and dipped and towered directly over the town before finally waving his hand in farewell. A thin cry of many throats came to his ears as he sped southward, and he was delighted to find how readily the machine answered to every motion of his hand. He almost felt that he was riding on a live thing, all nerves and energy, so obedient was the craft to his will. The machine was like a flying beetle, the planes motionless to sustain the body like the front wings of the insect, while the propeller, spinning vigorously, acted like the back wings to drive ahead. Dan had a faint idea of seeing some comparison of this sort in a magazine, and wondered if Vincent, having seen it also, had constructed his aeroplane on insect lines. But he soon dropped all conjecture to attend strictly to his business, which was to reach London as speedily as possible; no very difficult task, considering the swiftness of his vehicle. It was convenient that Dan should know a shed at Blackheath where he could house his machine, as Lord Curberry's house was in that neighborhood. Once on the spot it would be easy to have an interview with Marcus Penn, and perhaps not difficult to induce him to take the air in the loft spaces of the sky. The neighborhood was well known to Halliday, for his occupation of aviation brought him often there, and he had experimented with various inventions at various times, where the land afforded room for the departure and arrival of the machines; therefore, when he reached London's outskirts he made for Blackheath, and without difficulty brought the aeroplane to earth, a stone-throw from the shed in question. It said a great deal for the capabilities of the biplane that her pilot was enabled to strike his destination so exactly. Of course, the usual concourse of people gathered when the great bird-like structure fluttered down from the sky, but Dan sent a messenger to the man who looked after the shed, and soon had Vincent's masterpiece safely put away under lock and key. As he had been practising flying and strenuously testing the qualities of the machine, it was quite five o'clock before he was free to do what he would. As the distance from Rugby was just over eighty miles he could have arrived much earlier had he wished. But there was no need to do so, and every need to accustom himself to handling the biplane easily in view of the great race. When Dan had given certain instructions to the man who looked after the shed and was responsible for the safety of the machine, he walked across the Heath to a comfortable inn, where he was well known, as he had put up at it many times previously. It was here that he had appointed the meeting with Marcus Penn, for the next morning, but so eager was he to come face to face with the man and wring the truth out of him, that he almost decided to walk to Lord Curberry's house, which was two miles distant. But a swift reflection that he could do nothing until the next morning--since Penn had to be coaxed on to the aeroplane and certainly would decline a night-run--decided him to wait. The "Black Bull" was a particularly comfortable hotel and the landlady supplied tasty dinners; therefore Halliday took the good the gods sent him and settled down for a quiet evening. After a stroll to the shed to see that Vincent's creation was all right he returned to the inn and went to bed. His nerves speedily relaxed, and he slept deeply until nine o'clock in the morning. As he had invited Penn to see him at eleven, he had just time to take his breakfast comfortably, read the newspaper, and saunter; out to take the fresh air before his visitor arrived. Marcus Penn had not improved in looks since Dan had last seen him. His thin face was still yellow, his hair and moustache still scanty, and he appeared to be as nervous as ever. When he sat down he looked apprehensively at Halliday with his pale eyes, and passed his tongue over his dry lips. It seemed to the aviator that Penn's conscience was not quite at rest, else he would scarcely look so scared, when--on the face of it--there was no need to do so. Dan, however, soon set him at his ease, which was the first necessary step towards gaining his confidence. For, unless that was gained he assuredly would not set foot on the aeroplane. "How are you getting along, Mr. Penn?" said Halliday, genially. "Have a cigarette and something wet? Oh, I forget you don't drink so early in the day. I am glad you are up to time, as I am just starting out on a fly."
"Really," remarked the secretary eagerly. "I should like to see you make a start. Is your flying-machine near at hand?"
"In the shed over yonder, on the verge of the Heath," said Dan, jerking his head over his left shoulder; "but I daresay you wonder why I asked you to see me, Mr. Penn?"
"Well, er--that is--er--I did wonder a trifle," hesitated the pale man, and again looked anxious. "It has to do with your literary ambitions," said Halliday slowly. Penn flushed, looking both relieved on learning why he had been summoned to the meeting and pleased that the subject should be of such personal interest. "What do you know of my literary ambitions?" he asked doubtfully. "All that Miss Moon could tell me," said Dan, promptly, and this was absolutely correct, as Lillian had long ago asked him to aid the secretary, although he had never troubled about the matter until now. "Yes, I certainly did tell Miss Moon that I wished to become a novelist. I found her sympathetic."
"Yes, she would be; she always is. I suppose," said Dan darting off at a tangent, "that you are comfortable with Lord Curberry?"
"Oh, yes," assented the man, cheerfully. "I have good pay and little to do, and Lord Curberry is very kind. I have plenty of time to write my stories."
"Have you had any published?"
"No," sighed Penn, sadly, "I have tried again and again to get some short tales printed, but so far, without success. "Well, then, you know that I have a friend--Mr. Frederick Laurance--who is on that newspaperThe Moment. I suggest that you should send me some of your manuscripts for him to read. If he approves of them he will see what he can do, as he knows nearly every one of any note in the literary world." "Oh, you are too good. I shall be delighted. All the same," Penn hesitated, and writhed, "why should you do this for me?"
"It is Miss Moon who is doing this for you," rejoined Halliday, saying what was perfectly true; "she asked me to help you. I suppose she comes sometimes to Lord Curberry's house?"
"Oh, yes," said Penn, with a swift glance at him, "her uncle, Sir John, and Miss Moon and Mrs. Bolstreath dined with Lord Curberry last week. I am afraid, Mr. Halliday," added the secretary timidly, "that you will lose Miss Moon." Dan laughed cheerfully. "I don't think so. Why should I?"
"Her uncle is very anxious for her to marry Lord Curberry, who is also very desirous to make Miss Moon his wife."
"That shows Curberry's good taste," said Halliday rising, and putting on his cap. "However, she is to be my wife, and Curberry and Sir John can go hang."
"I should not be so sure, Mr. Halliday," said Penn, in a mysterious manner, "when Lord Curberry wants anything, he generally gets it."
"He is crying for the moon just now," said the other man making a pun, "and the moon is no man's property. However, I must go off to start for my flying practise. I am going to compete in the London to York race next week. Come with me and see me start. As to your stories, you can send them to me at my old address, which you knew when you were with Sir Charles. I shall see Mr. Laurance about them."
"You are good," murmured Penn, drawing a long breath and following Dan out of the inn. "I am obliged to you."
"To Miss Moon, you mean. She is the one who takes an interest in your literary efforts. But come along and see my machine. I got it from an inventor called Vincent," and Dan turned suddenly to shoot an inquiring glance at his companion. It occurred to him that Penn might have heard the name since Penn had the perfume as well as Mrs. Jarsell, who knew the inventor. But evidently Penn had not heard the name, for he gave no sign of knowledge. "I hope it is a good machine," he said innocently and weakly. "Very good," said Halliday, as they halted near the great doors of the shed, "a clipper. Why not try a fly with me?" "Oh!" Penn shrank back. "I should be afraid."
"Nonsense, man!" joked the aviator while the aeroplane was wheeled out, and the usual crowd of onlookers began to gather. "As a literary man you ought to experience all sensation so as to write about it. Coming stories will be full of flying-machines and airships."
"Isn't it dangerous?" asked Penn, looking at the delicate structure which appeared almost too fragile to sustain one person, let alone two. "Not at all, especially if one doesn't do any fancy flying, which I shall avoid if you come with me."
"I should like to have the experience," hesitated the secretary, "that is if you will not fly too high or too far."
"I'll take you across the Heath and back again and will keep within a tolerably safe distance from the ground."
"It's tempting," quavered Penn, wistfully, while Dan busied himself in getting things square. "Please yourself," rejoined Halliday carelessly, and satisfied that the timid man was nibbling at the bait. "I can't stay here all day." He slipped into the pilot's seat. "Well, well?"
"I really think I should like--where am I to sit?"
"In this place." Dan touched a spring and the pilot box of aluminium lengthened out so that there was room for two people. This was one of Vincent's improvements upon which he prided himself, as the vehicle could, by adjusting the closed-in car, seat two people or one, as the need arose. "But don't come, if you feel the least fear." Those of the idle spectators close at hand grinned at Penn's pale face, and he was stung into accepting hastily what he would have rejected in a cooler moment. "I am not afraid," he said, trying to steady his voice, and with an air of bravado he stepped in beside the aviator. "Oh, I say," he gasped. And no wonder. Dan did not give him a moment to change his mind. Having captured his prey, he intended to keep him, so set the engine going almost before Penn was comfortably seated. In less time than it takes to tell the aeroplane whirled along the ground swiftly and lifted herself gracefully upward. Penn gasped again, and glanced down at the sinking ground, where the spectators were already beginning to grow smaller. But the motion of the biplane was so easy, and the face of her pilot was so composed, that after the first thrill of terror Penn began to feel that flying was not such a very dangerous pastime as he had imagined. "Wonderful, wonderful," he murmured, as the great artificial bird glided smoothly through the air, "but don't--don't go too high, Mr. Halliday."
"I shall go high enough to smash you," said Dan, coolly. He was circling in swallow flights round the Heath, now high now low, now swift now slow, and had the machine so entirely under command that he was enabled to give a certain amount of his attention, though not all, to his companion. Penn gasped again, and his terror revived. "Smash me! Oh!!" he almost shrieked. "Yes," said Dan, not looking, since he had to watch where he was going, but speaking rapidly and clearly all the same. "I want to know the truth about that perfume. About the Sumatra perfume you told me was possessed alone by you. That was a lie, and you know it was a lie."
"I--I--I don't know anything more about it," whimpered the secretary. "Yes you do. Out with the truth," said Dan relentlessly, "if you don't I shall drop you overboard to smash like an egg." Penn clung to his seat desperately. "That would be murder."
"I daresay, but I shouldn't suffer. Accidents will happen in aeroplanes you know. You are like Mahomet's coffin, slung between heaven and earth, and overboard Mahomet's coffin will go in a few minutes unless----" Dan swerved the machine which tilted slightly and Penn went green with terror. "What--what--what do you want to know?" he wailed, as the biplane dipped nearly to earth, to sweep upward in a graceful curve. "Who is Mrs. Jarsell?"
"I--oh, Lord--I don't know."
"You do. She has this perfume also. Has it anything to do with a gang?"
"Yes, yes." Penn's teeth were chattering, and the sinking motion made him sick. "What has it to do with a gang?" "It's--it's a--a sign."
"Was Sir Charles murdered by this gang?"
"I don't know--I don't know. Oh!" Penn screamed and clutched again at the side of the car. "You do. This false Mrs. Brown belonged to the gang."
"I can't say. I daren't tell you. If I say anything I shall die."
"You shall die if you don't say what I want you to say," said Dan between his teeth, and again the machine dipped and towered. "I'll tilt you out, I swear, if you don't tell me who murdered Sir Charles."
"I don't know, I tell you," cried Penn desperately, "the perfume has to do with a society of people, who--who--but I daren't speak. I should be killed. I have said too much as it is. And if you reveal what I have said, you will be killed also."
"I don't care. Is Mrs. Jarsell connected with this gang?"
"I don't know Mrs. Jarsell," said Penn sullenly, although his terrified face showed that he was nearly frightened out of his wits. "Do you belong to this----" started Dan, when a sudden action of Penn took him by surprise. In endeavoring to frighten the man he had flown too low, and the aeroplane was only six feet off the ground, preparing to swing skyward again. The secretary, in desperation, flung himself sideways out of the machine, as it curved at the lowest and fell heavily on the herbage of the Heath. Dan could not stop to see if he was safe or hurt, but soared aloft again to a considerable height. Circling widely he came sailing directly over the spot where the secretary had tumbled out in his desperate endeavor to escape. Already the man had picked himself up and was limping off toward the town as quickly as he was able. "Now," said Dan grimly to himself, "he will have me arrested for attempted murder. That's all right," and he chuckled, although not entirely successful in his endeavor to make Penn confess.
In his anxiety to learn the truth Dan was perfectly willing to be arrested on whatever charge Penn might wish to bring against him. After all, publicity was what he chiefly aimed at, and if he gave his reasons for threatening the secretary, he felt confident that the man would find it difficult to clear his character. Certainly Halliday had not intended to take Penn's life, and had not the man been such a coward he would have simply laughed at the idea of being tilted out of the machine. But his nerves, shaken by the possible danger, had given way, and he had said much which he would have preferred to keep locked up in his heart. But that the aeroplane, by dipping so low, had afforded Penn the chance of escape at the risk of a rough fall, he would have spoken at greater length. And yet, after turning the matter over in his own mind, Dan could not be sure of this. But this much Halliday had learned. A gang assuredly existed, and the perfume was a sign of recognition amongst the members, who apparently followed each other's trails by scent. Penn declined to say if his late employer had been done to death by the fraternity, but the perfume on the dead man's clothes answered this question very positively. Also the secretary had denied that the false Mrs. Brown belonged to the gang, a statement which was absurd, as undoubtedly she was the emissary employed to bring about the death. Finally, the fact that Mrs. Jarsell used the Sumatra scent brought her into connection with the Hampstead crime; whatever Penn might say Dan felt that he had struck a trail, which would end in the capture of Moon's assassin and the breaking up of a dangerous organization. On reflection he concluded that Penn would have said very little more, even though face to face with what he believed to be imminent death. He had hinted sufficiently to show that revelation was dangerous not only to himself but to Halliday, for if the gang learned that their secret was betrayed, it was certain that death would be portioned out to the man who heard, as well as to the man who spoke. On this assumption Dan felt confident that Penn would take no action in the matter, and would probably hold his tongue about the adventure. If he told any of the gang to which he presumably belonged, he would have to admit that he had betrayed the secret of the perfume, in which case he would assuredly be killed by his unscrupulous associates. The death of Dan, as the young man believed, would follow, but he also believed that by taking care of his own skin Penn would remove any risk of vengeance following himself; therefore he was not surprised when he heard nothing from Penn, or of Penn during the days that passed before the morning of the great race. Meanwhile he detailed the conversation to Laurance. That young gentleman had returned to town with some regret since Mildred Vincent was not by his side. But to assure himself of an early marriage by securing a steady income, he flung himself into journalistic work with redoubled energy, working night and day to gain an increased salary. He was in his office employed on a political article when Dan presented himself, and was not overpleased to give up even a moment of his precious time. In fact, he grumbled. "I wish you would come after business hours, Halliday," he said testily. "Oh, fudge," retorted Dan lightly. "A journalist hasn't any business hours. Like a king, he is always in harness. Why do you require me to tell you such elementary truths, Freddy?"
"I have an important article to write."
"Well, then, you can write it in ten minutes or so. I shan't keep you long." Laurance pushed away his writing paper, leaned back in his chair, and reached for a cigarette. "What is it, then?" he asked resignedly. Dan paced the office and related his adventure. "So you see, old son, that the perfume is of great importance, as I always suspected." Laurance nodded gravely. "It appears so. But if what you think is true, would the man have disclosed a secret dangerous to his own safety?"
"People will disclose anything when on the rack," replied Dan with a shrug, "and the aeroplane was my rack. The fool really believed that I would tilt him overboard, and therefore said what he did say to save his confounded skin. If he had not escaped so cleverly he would have admitted more." "I doubt it. From the hint he gave, if it was death for him not to confess to you, because you could kill him, it was equally death for him to speak, if his associates are prepared to murder him for babbling. However, we are now certain that the gang alluded to by Sir Charles does exist. Undoubtedly he was got out of the way since he knew too much."
"It is a pity he did not reveal his knowledge to Durwin."
"He intended to do so, but was murdered before Durwin arrived, as we know. By the way, Durwin is as keen as we are over this search. I met him the other day and he said that he was hunting everywhere for evidence. Why not tell him what you have learned, Dan? He can make Penn speak out."
"Penn won't speak further," denied Dan abruptly. "I think, as it is, he dreads the vengeance of his comrades."
"Durwin belongs to Scotland Yard, and has powers to drive Penn into a corner, so he may be able to force confession. I think you should consult with Durwin about the matter."
"After the race then."
"Why not before the race, which does not take place for a couple of days?"
"I don't like doing things in a hurry," said Halliday uneasily. "I want to question Mrs. Jarsell, and see if she knows anything."
"If she does, which is doubtful, she will assuredly refuse to speak. So far, I see no connection between her and the gang."
"You forget the perfume."
"H'm, yes," said Laurance meditatively, "perhaps you are right. I want to have more evidence before I can give an opinion. But since Penn told you so much, aren't you in danger from the gang yourself, Dan?"
"I think not. Penn, for his own sake, will hold his tongue. At all events he has not moved so far."
"That doesn't say he won't move. I should examine that aeroplane very carefully before the race, if I were you."
"Oh, I'll do that. I know the machine thoroughly by this time, and if it has been tampered with I shall soon spot the trickery. Well, now that I have brought you up to date with my information I shall leave you to work."
"One moment. Is Miss Moon going to see you start for York?"
"Yes. I got a letter from her this morning. She and Mrs. Bolstreath come to the aviation ground with Lord Curberry, confound him," and with a frown, Dan took his leave. He was anything but amiably disposed towards his rival. Everything was quiet as regards the criminal business for the next two days, as Penn made no attempt to punish Dan for the fright he had given him. Halliday himself was much too eager over the race to trouble about the matter, but he kept a sharp eye on the Vincent machine, still stored at Blackheath, so as to guard against any tampering. The start was to take place at Blackheath, and on the appointed day five competitors were on the spot surrounded by a large crowd of curious people anxious to witness the conquest of the air. Amongst those present was Durwin, who pushed his way to where Dan was looking over his aeroplane. The aviator did not see the lean, keen-eyed man until he was touched on the elbow. "Is it all right, Halliday?" asked Durwin, nodding toward the machine. "Perfect. She's a beauty, and it won't be her fault if I don't lift York Minster before sunset. What are you doing here, Mr. Durwin? I didn't know that you took an interest in aviation."
"I take an interest in this search for Moon's assassin," said Durwin drily, but in low tones. "Laurance saw me and related your discovery. I am looking about for Marcus Penn and intend to ask him questions."
"He may be on the ground," said Dan, glancing around, "since Lord Curberry's place is a stone-throw away. But he won't speak."
"I'll make him speak," said Durwin with a grim look. "Well, I hope you'll win, Halliday. When you return to town look me up. I may have something to tell you," and he moved away with a significant look. Dan could not leave his machine, or he would have followed, as there were several questions which he greatly desired to ask. The day was cold and dry, with few clouds, and a good deal of sunshine, so the conditions for the race were fairly good. The wind was rather high, and that vexed the aviators, as the art of flying is not yet so perfect as to control the winds when they are over-strong. However, to go against these strong air-currents would be an excellent test of the qualities of the various machines. The start was to take place at one o'clock, and the competitors hoped to reach their destination before five o'clock. Some of the aeroplanes could travel at forty miles an hour; others at fifty, but so far as Dan knew, his was the sole machine which could gather sixty-miles-an-hour speed. If Vincent could be believed, the aeroplane ought to travel the hundred and eighty-odd miles, if the conditions were tolerably good, in a trifle over three hours. Dan, now having perfect mastery of the biplane, hoped to accomplish the wonderful journey in a shorter space of time. But this hope had yet to be verified. Meanwhile, having seen that all was in order, he turned to speak to Lillian who had just come up accompanied by Mrs. Bolstreath. Lord Curberry was in attendance, and in the distance Dan caught a glimpse of the yellow-faced secretary, looking unhappy and nervous. "Oh, Dan, I do hope you will win," cried Lillian, who looked extremely pretty, but more than a trifle anxious; "it does seem so dangerous to fly in such a light machine."
"She's the best I have yet struck," Dan assured her. "Don't you think she's as perfect as Lillian, Mrs. Bolstreath?" The elderly lady laughed and cast a side-glance at Curberry, to see how he took Halliday's complimentary speech. "Well, I suppose you cannot think of anything prettier to say. I have heard of a woman being compared to a gazelle and to a ship, but never to a flying-machine."
"Mr. Halliday is very up to date in his compliments," said Curberry with a slight sneer. He was a tall, bilious-looking man, with pale blue eyes and a thin-lipped sinister mouth, not at all prepossessing in appearance, although immaculate in dress. Dan laughed. Being confident that Lillian would never marry this spectre, he could afford to laugh. "We young people," he said with emphasis, "go with the times, Lord Curberry." "Meaning that I belong to the past generation," retorted the other with a flash in his pale eyes; "you will find that I don't in some ways," and he glanced significantly at Lillian. Mrs. Bolstreath looked nervous, but Miss Moon was supremely indifferent. She did not care for Lord Curberry, and in spite of her uncle's advocacy had not the slightest idea of marrying the man; therefore she ignored him as consistently as she could considering the way he thrust himself into her company. Without taking notice of this passage-at-arms, she began to question her lover about the airship, and gathered quite a stock of information before the start. Curberry being ignorant of aviation was out of the picture, as the saying goes, so fumed and fretted and looked daggers at Dan. It took all Mrs. Bolstreath's diplomacy to keep him in a moderately good temper. Luckily Laurance strolled up, note-book in hand, as he was reporting forThe Moment, and greeted the party gaily. He knew Curberry slightly and nodded to him without any word or salutation. In common with many other people, Freddy did not like the man, who was by no means a popular character. "Isn't it a splendid day for the race, Miss Moon?" said Laurance, casting an upward glance at the grey sky. "I look forward to chronicling Dan's triumph inThe Momentto-morrow morning. Well, old fellow," he slapped Halliday jovially on the back, "are you prepared for what Jules Verne would call the very greatest journey of the century?"
"The century is yet young," replied Dan drily, "and it's only one hundred and eighty odd miles I have to travel. Considering that aviators have reached a successful distance of five hundred miles this race is a trifle."
"Well," said Lord Curberry, trying to be amiable--a hard task for him, seeing how much Lillian was taken up with the hero of the moment--"aviation has certainly accomplished wonders since Santos Dumont took his flight of ten yards some four years ago." "Oh, you do know something about aviation, Lord Curberry," said Dan coolly. "I know that it is dangerous, Mr. Halliday."
"Oh, Dan," Lillian grew pale, knowing what the spiteful speech meant. "I think flying looks more dangerous than it is," said Dan with a reassuring glance, "and Miss Moon has come here to be my mascot."
"You will wire your safe arrival as soon as you get to York," said Mrs. Bolstreath anxiously. "Oh, every one will wire," cried Freddy, taking out his field-glass, "the telegraph offices will be kept hard at work all the night. As sure as I stand here, Mrs. Bolstreath, Dan will be the richer to-morrow by £2,000."
"If he is safe, I shall be content," breathed Lillian, and she looked as though she would have kissed Dan then and there, in spite of the presence of the crowd and Lord Curberry. That unsuccessful suitor scowled, and was about to make one of his acid speeches, when those authorities arranging the race came to declare that all was ready for the start. Already the cinematographs were at work taking pictures of the crowd and the machines and their various pilots. Policemen drove back the throng to some distance, so that the aeroplanes might have a clear space to run in, and just as the hour of one sounded the start was made amidst a breathless silence. The aeroplanes ran along the ground like startled hens, and sprang into the air at various points. The eyes of the people from looking level now began to stare upward at the diminishing dots which towered and raced for the north. A zigzag monoplane was leading, but Lillian had only eyes for Dan's craft. Freddy gave her his field-glasses so that she might get a better view. Three of the aeroplanes bunched, but two circled away some distance in wide arcs, and of the two, one machine belonged to Dan. The onlookers saw him increase the speed of his propeller and then, like an arrow from the bow, he sped swiftly out of sight in a straight line. A cheer rose from the throng, as the Vincent airship was leading by some lengths, and Lillian gave Freddy back his glasses. "I hope he'll come back safe," she said with quivering lip. "Of course he will," Laurance assured her. "Dan is one of the most cautious aviators we have."
"But there is always a risk," sneered Lord Curberry. "Probably. Only a brave man would take the risk."
"You don't fly yourself, Mr. Laurance."
"As you see," was the calm reply, as Curberry's enmity was too paltry to trouble about. "Well, Miss Moon, we can't see anything more, so I suppose you will go home."
"Miss Moon is coming to luncheon with me," said Lord Curberry, "and Mrs. Bolstreath also."
"I am very hungry," said that lady pensively, "so I don't say----"
"Hallo!" interrupted Laurance, as a clamor arose on the outskirts of the now fast diminishing crowd, "what's the matter? In the interests of my paper I must see what is taking place," and with a hasty raising of his hat to the ladies he left them to the care of Lord Curberry. As he pushed his way toward the commotion he heard a voice asking if the man was quite dead, and fancied that someone must have fallen down in a fit. But when he broke through the ring of policemen, and beheld Durwin lying on the ground, with staring eyes and a ghastly, expressionless face, the sight so startled him that he caught a constable's arm. "What's all this?" he demanded hoarsely. "Is Mr. Durwin dead?" "Durwin," echoed the policeman sharply, "do you know the gentleman?"
"Of course. He is Mr. Durwin, one of the Scotland Yard officials. I wonder you don't know that."
"I never heard of him, sir. He must belong to the detective department." "What's the matter with him; has he had a fit?"
"He's been murdered," said the constable shortly. "Murdered?" Laurance stared at the man in a horrified manner, and his thoughts flew to the gang which he and Dan and Durwin were trying to root out. Was this another crime similar to that committed at Hampstead, when Sir Charles was killed for knowing too much? "Is there a fly on him?" asked the reporter hastily; "see if there's a fly."
"A fly!" The policeman evidently thought the speaker was crazy. "What has a fly to do with the matter? Here's the Inspector, who was sent for some time ago. You had better speak to him, sir." Laurance did so, and advanced toward the soldierly-looking official who made his appearance. In a low and rapid voice, Laurance hastily explained that the prone man was Mr. Durwin, of Scotland Yard, and also handed the Inspector his own card. Meanwhile a doctor was examining the body, and found that the deceased had been murdered by having a dagger thrust under his left shoulder-blade. He was quite dead, and must have passed away almost immediately the blow was delivered. The Inspector received this uncompromising statement with natural surprise, and knelt down beside the corpse to verify the declaration. There was no doubt that the medical man spoke the truth, for a stream of blood stained the back of Durwin's coat, and had soaked into the ground. The thrust must have been made with a very sharp instrument, and was undoubtedly delivered with great force. "Who knows anything of this?" demanded the Inspector, rising and looking at the awestruck faces of the crowd sharply. A slim lady-like girl stepped forward. "I was standing close to the gentleman," she explained nervously, "and we were all looking at the airships as they went away. I heard him give a gasp, and when I turned at the sound, he was slipping to the ground. That's all I know."
"Did you see any one strike him?"
"No, I didn't. How could I, when with the rest I was staring at the airships going away. The gentleman was staring also, I think. But of course I didn't take much notice of him, as he was a stranger to me."
"I saw him fall," put in a rough man, something like a navvy; "he was crushed up against me in the crowd, and I felt him tumbling. I heard him gurgle, too, and heard this young lady cry out. Then I saw him on the ground, and pushed back the folk, saying there was a cove dying. But I didn't think it was murder," ended the man, shuddering. "Nor did I," chimed in the slim girl. "I fancied it was a fit. I'm sure we were all so crushed up with the lot of people, that I shouldn't have been surprised if he had taken a fit." This was all that could be learned, and the Inspector took the names and addresses of the two who had spoken. There were other people who had noted the man on the ground, but these were the sole ones to see the fall. They had, as it were, almost caught the assassin red-handed. But it was impossible to say who was guilty, for the throng was so dense and every one's attention had been so earnestly fixed skyward on the airships that no one could say who had struck down the unfortunate gentleman. The Inspector was much impressed when he learned the identity of the dead man. Once or twice he had received official letters from Durwin, but he had never set eyes on him until he beheld him dead. But for Laurance he would not have known who he was, and therefore questioned that young gentleman closely when the body was carried by four policemen off the ground to the nearest place where it could be placed under shelter. "And what about this fly?" asked the Inspector, who had heard of the question from the policeman who Laurance had first addressed. "Don't you remember the case of Sir Charles Moon?"
"Yes. The woman who killed him was never discovered. I remember about the fly, and also I remember the letters written to that newspaper of yours."
"I wrote the first letter that brought forth the correspondence," said Freddy quickly. "Sir Charles had some idea that a gang of criminals was in existence, and invited Mr. Durwin to his house to explain. Before Mr. Durwin arrived Sir Charles was murdered. Since then he had been looking into the matter, and I believe that he also learned too much."
"You think that this gang you mention had him put out of the way?"
"Yes, I do, and that is why I asked if there was a fly on him. It's the trade-mark of these devils, I fancy."
"Well, there didn't appear to be any fly on him," said the Inspector in an uneasy tone. "All the same, I think your idea is right. Moon was murdered because he knew too much, and Mr. Durwin has been got out of the way for the same reason; at least I think so. However, we shall learn more between this and the inquest. You will attend, Mr. Laurance?"
"Of course. I am only too anxious to find out all I can about this dangerous gang. It must be broken up."
"The breaking up will be attended with considerable danger," said the Inspector in a very dry tone. Then he noted Freddy's address and let him go. Laurance returned to the office ofThe Momentand hastily wrote his description of the start for the London to York race, after which he saw the editor and related what he knew about the death of Durwin. Permitted to write the article dealing with the subject, Laurance gave a concise account, and although he did not say too much, yet hinted very plainly that the death of the Scotland Yard official was connected indirectly with the murder of Sir Charles Moon. Remembering that Penn was now Lord Curberry's secretary, and that Lord Curberry's house was near the aviation ground, Freddy wondered if Penn had been amidst the crowd. Dan could have told him that he had been, but, at present, Laurance did not know this. However, he had a shrewd idea that as Penn was connected with one murder, he was probably connected with the other. Then Freddy cursed himself for not having observed if there was any special perfume hanging about the dead man's clothes. As he did not know the particular smell of the Sumatra scent he could not say if it was the one Dan had traced to Mrs. Jarsell, but if there was any scent at all, it was worth while looking into the matter. To repair his negligence he finished writing the article--which was very short--and then started for Blackheath to view the corpse again. As he was leaving the office of the paper a telegram was put into his hand. It proved to be from Dan, and had been sent from Bedford. "Had an accident," ran the wire, "rudder broke. No bones broken, but shaken by fall. I return this evening to town and will call. Halliday."
"Now I wonder," murmured Laurance, when he read the telegram, "if that machine was tampered with, after all. If so, the gang must be getting scared. First Moon, then Durwin, now an attempt on Dan's life. By Jove, I'll be the next." The idea was by no means a pleasant one.