A knight of the air
Date: 2024-11-09T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Aeronautics -- Fiction

The Project Gutenberg eBook of A knight of the air

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

Title: A knight of the air
or, The aerial rivals

Author: Henry Tracey Coxwell

Release date: November 9, 2024 [eBook #74709]

Language: English

Original publication: United Kingdom: Digby, Long & Co, 1895

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/74709

Credits: Susan E., David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNIGHT OF THE AIR ***

A KNIGHT OF THE AIR

DIGBY’S POPULAR NOVEL SERIES

Crown 8vo, handsome cloth, price 2s. 6d. per Vol. Each Book
contains about 320 pp., and is printed on superior
paper from new type.

Those marked * may be had in Picture Boards at 2s.

THE BEAUTIFUL SOUL. By FLORENCE MARRYAT.
Author of ‘A Fatal Silence,’ &c.

[Just Published.

THE OTHER BOND. By DORA RUSSELL. Author of
‘A Hidden Chain,’ &c.

[Just Published.

A LIFE FOR A LOVE. By L. T. MEADE. Author of
‘The Medicine Lady,’ &c.

[Just Published.

FALSE PRETENCES. By ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs
Pender Cudlip). Author of ‘A Girl’s Folly,’ ‘A Lover
of the Day,’ &c.

[Just Published.

HER LOVING SLAVE. By HUME NISBET. Author of
‘The Jolly Roger,’ ‘Bail Up,’ &c. With Illustrations
by the Author.

[Just Published.

* DR JANET OF HARLEY STREET. By ARABELLA
KENEALY. Author of ‘Some Men are Such Gentlemen,’
‘The Honourable Mrs Spoor.’

[Seventh Edition.

THE MYSTERY OF CLEMENT DUNRAVEN. By JEAN
MIDDLEMASS. Author of ‘A Girl in a Thousand,’
‘Hush Money,’ &c.

[Third Edition.

* A HIDDEN CHAIN. By DORA RUSSELL. Author of
‘The Other Bond,’ ‘Footprints in the Snow,’ &c.

[Third Edition.

* THE JOLLY ROGER. By HUME NISBET. Author of
‘Her Loving Slave’, ‘Bail Up,’ &c. With Illustrations
by the Author.

[Fifth Edition.

*** Other Works in the same Series in due course.

DIGBY, LONG & CO., LONDON

“Just when the pilot and Bennet had commenced to wind down the balloon, a report from a gun was heard.”—Page 156.

A KNIGHT OF THE AIR
Or, the Aerial Rivals

BY
HENRY COXWELL
AUTHOR OF ‘MY LIFE AND BALLOON EXPERIENCES’

LONDON
DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS
18 BOUVERIE STREET, FLEET STREET, E.C.

ARABELLA KENEALY’S NOVELS

SOME MEN ARE SUCH GENTLEMEN

Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. Fifth Edition.

Academy—‘We take up a book by Miss Arabella Kenealy confidently expecting to be amused, and in her latest work we are not disappointed. The story is so brightly written that our interest is never allowed to flag. The heroine, Lois Clinton, is sweet and womanly.... The tale is told with spirit and vivacity, and shows no little skill in its descriptive passages.’

Pall Mall Gazette—‘A book to be read breathlessly from beginning to end. It is decidedly original ... its vivid interest. The picture of the girl is admirably drawn. The style is bright and easy.’

Literary World—‘A really good story, original, well written and strong. A really excellent and engaging story. The materials are rare, and, we must admit, ideal ... can be read with interest and enjoyment.’

Daily Chronicle—‘Miss Kenealy has original ideas, a nice faculty of literary expression.... Her description of the old house where dwelt her strange young heroine, is quite admirable.... There is a quaintness and an air of romance about the whole story, which are very pleasant to note and to remember.’

Truth—‘Its heroine is at once original and charming.’

DR JANET OF HARLEY STREET

Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. Picture Boards, 2s.

This Book ran through Six Editions in the Six Shilling form.

Daily Chronicle—‘It is a clever book, and well worth reading; it can outstrip the ordinary novel by many knots per day (to pursue the metaphor), and it may make one or two people think who are unaccustomed to that exercise. Miss Kenealy has imagined an interesting character, and realised her vividly.’

Pall Mall Gazette—‘In “Dr Janet of Harley Street,” Dr Arabella Kenealy has shown that the art of writing lively fiction is not the least of her many accomplishments. Moreover, she has achieved the rare distinction of producing a novel which is didactic and not dull. Miss Kenealy has a quick sense of humour, and a lively faculty of observation, and her style is vivid and effective.’

THE HONOURABLE MRS SPOOR

Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. Fourth Edition.

Black and White—‘Her latest novel has advanced her to the front rank of lady novelists.’

The Daily Chronicle—‘A clever story. The most powerful piece of work that Miss Kenealy has done.’

The Pall Mall Gazette—‘This powerful story ... brilliantly achieved. Her style is, as always, graceful and easy, and her character sketches are excellent and humorous.’

DIGBY, LONG & CO., Publishers, London.

THIS STORY
IS
Dedicated
BY PERMISSION
TO
Sir WILLIAM INGRAM, Bart.
WHO HAS ALWAYS
EXHIBITED A DEEP INTEREST
ON PRACTICAL AERONAUTICS

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
PAGE
Shadowed, | 1
CHAPTER II
An Accident, | 9
CHAPTER III
Messrs Goodall Brothers, | 20
CHAPTER IV
An Appeal, | 30
CHAPTER V
Scheming, | 40
CHAPTER VI
Aeronautics, | 56
CHAPTER VII
Finance and Finesse, | 70
CHAPTER VIII
Mr Falcon on Flight, | 86
CHAPTER XI
A Flighty Fiasco, | 96
CHAPTER X
Captain Link’s Appearance, | 106
CHAPTER XI
Remarkable Events, | 120
CHAPTER XII
Unmasked, | 136
CHAPTER XIII
The Mysterious Shot, | 152
CHAPTER XIV
Surprising Disclosures, | 168
CHAPTER XV
Wanted by Warner, | 181
CHAPTER XVI
On the Track, | 194
CHAPTER XVII
Alarming Incidents, | 208
CHAPTER XVIII
Waiting for News, | 222
CHAPTER IX
Up Aloft, | 232
CHAPTER XX
The Fight in the Fog, | 245
CHAPTER XXI
Reconciliation and Retrospection, | 261
CHAPTER XXII
Tightening the Net, | 268
CHAPTER XXIII
Decoyed, | 278
CHAPTER XXIV
Disappearance and Reappearance, | 293
CHAPTER XXV
Reunion and Happiness, | 301

A KNIGHT OF THE AIR

CHAPTER I
SHADOWED!

Mr Harry Goodall, a young, tall and well-set-up gentleman, was walking impatiently to and fro on the south side of Trafalgar Square, as if he were awaiting the arrival of someone who had agreed to meet him. The fact was, he was in a hurry to get to Sydenham, where he was about to try a scientific experiment, and was momentarily expecting a cab conveying a model apparatus which he was going to test. While he was waiting, his attention was drawn to two men who, in crossing the road, were nearly run over, and who, as soon as they caught sight of Goodall, nudged one another and whispered for a moment, and then disappeared behind one of the lions. Almost immediately the cab Goodall was expecting drew up with a long, coffin-shaped box on the top, and, at the same moment, the two men emerged from their hiding-place, and passed Goodall as he stepped into the cab. He noticed this action, and, for some undefined reason, he merely instructed the coachman to drive over Westminster Bridge. The cab bore him swiftly away, but “More haste less speed,” for, as they went down the incline on the Surrey side, the horse slipped and fell. A crowd gathered, and Goodall alighted. As he did so, he noticed a hansom pass him, in which were the same two men he had observed watching him in Trafalgar Square. Shortly afterwards, the cab horse was got up on to his legs again and the journey to Sydenham was proceeded with, after the coachman had received definite orders as to his destination.

As he drove along, it occurred to Goodall that he must be the object of these two men’s attention. The question was, were they detectives who had mistaken him for someone else, or were they spies put on by his uncle, who was, he knew, most averse to the hobby of his life, which, it may be said at once, was ballooning? However, he dismissed the matter from his mind as the cab drew up at the workmen’s entrance to the Crystal Palace, where he deposited the box with the officials and then drove on to the central entrance, where he exchanged civilities with the general manager, and with whom he chatted for a short time in the transept as to what he proposed doing in the way of experiments, and so on. Passing into the building, and wending his way through the groups of refreshment tables, although his mind was full of his project, he could not help noticing a party of people seated at one of the tables. It consisted of a young lady and two gentleman, while another person, as if an attendant on one of them, stood in the background. The lady was remarkably pretty, and one of her companions was an aristocratic-looking old gentleman—a country squire in appearance—but the other, whose face Mr Goodall had seen before, gave him a rude, fixed stare, and, as Goodall drew nearer, he recognised him as one of the two men who had passed him in the hansom, whilst the man in the background was his companion. Thinking that this third rencontre was, perhaps, after all, merely a coincidence, Mr Goodall passed on through the door of the tropical department, and soon afterwards entered a square, glass-built room of large dimensions, which is situated beneath the lofty North Tower, and which had been placed at Mr Goodall’s disposal to facilitate a series of aeronautical experiments, but not in a public capacity, demonstrating his own ideas on aeronautics, and which aimed at rescuing ballooning from the imputation that its pursuit, which had become valuable for military purposes, must necessarily be attended with continual risk, and with those frequent fatalities which have cast a slur on its more recent practice.

In Mr Goodall’s laboratory, or workroom, as he preferred to call it, was a smart young fellow named Trigger, who acted as his assistant, whilst two lady-like women, Mrs Chain and her daughter, were giving the finishing touches to a superb silk balloon, work with which Goodall had entrusted them out of compassion, being aware that they were in bad circumstances through having been swindled by a fraudulent financier, who had embezzled funds of theirs given him to invest.

“Good morning, Mrs Chain,” said Mr Goodall. “Did you ever see a more glorious day? And you, Miss Chain, you wish me success to-day, I hope?”

“Why, of course, Mr Goodall. I was just saying to Lucy”—with a nod over to a young woman, Tom Trigger’s sweetheart,—“that you seem as fortunate as the Queen with respect to weather.”

In addition to the silk balloon, at which they were working there were model machines in the workroom, together with a great mass of tackle, all appertaining to the practice of ballooning. The special contrivance that was to undergo a trial that day was a cone-pointed aerostat of thirteen feet in length, by four feet in central diameter, which Mr Goodall had brought with him in the cab. The amateur’s idea was to use it somewhat like a keel or centre-board boat of novel shape, which was to be driven by a screw propeller on the lake, so as to cause the air-ship, while floating in its own element, some feet above the aquatic contrivance, to deviate several points from the straight course of the wind, as steering by the aid of water, in Mr Goodall’s opinion, could be more easily managed than by steering solely in the air above.

Whilst this invention was being prepared for trial in the lower grounds on the lake, the shadows of two outside visitors were cast on the cotton screen which hung all round the workroom on the inside. As these persons came nearer to the front window, their shadows became more distinct, and they represented a tall man and a shorter person behind, but the leading one was very inquisitive, peering about, trying his level best to get a glimpse of what was going inside. Lucy, whose quick eye was the first to detect the intruder, drew Mr Goodall’s attention to him, when the aeronaut requested them to keep quiet while he had a good look at the profile of the man, as if it struck him very forcibly that it was one of the two who had been watching and following him in London and in the palace.

The little man moved away, but his companion remained looking through every nook and crevice to see who was inside. Miss Chain, who felt an irrepressible desire to catch a glimpse of the intruder, took advantage of a hole in the screen to satisfy her curiosity. She had no sooner looked than she started back with a scream, and fell fainting into a chair. The spy, hearing the cry, vanished immediately.

Miss Chain looked pale and frightened, but, with Lucy’s assistance, she soon recovered herself.

Trigger wanted to open the door and go after the man, but his master stopped him.

“You had better keep quiet,” said Mr Goodall, “as Miss Chain’s attack may be, after all, only the result of close air and overwork. A walk round the archery ground presently will do her all the good in the world, and, meanwhile, we can go down to the lake to try my air-ship.”

Lucy, although glad to see her friend’s recovery, looked upon the whole thing as a joke, and remarked as much, whereupon Mr Goodall, who overheard her, agreed, and laughingly said,—

“A phantom figure has possibly appeared.”

“Pardon me,” said Miss Chain; “it was no phantom I saw, Mr Goodall, but the figure of one who—”

“There now, don’t take on any more,” said Lucy, as she held the smelling salts nearer to Miss Chain’s face, and, giving her a significant nudge, silenced her.

“You will soon be all right,” said Mr Goodall, as he prepared to leave with Trigger. “You must take a holiday this afternoon and get some fresh air.”

When, however, the aeronaut and his assistant had left, poor Miss Chain cast a scared look at the screen and, turning to Lucy, said,—

“Holiday, indeed! This is the worst thing that has happened since I left Boulogne. I will tell you more of what I mean when we are in the open air. If I could only meet him face to face, Lucy, instead of only seeing his shadow!”

“No doubt you would let him have it hot,” replied Lucy, in her honest, blunt way; “but, as it is only a vision, you had better keep quiet until he does show up, and then if he opens his mouth and has anything to say worth hearing, I will chime in and help you.”

“Do you think, Lucy, that creature is prowling about without a fixed object? He must have heard that I am here. And wasn’t there another man with him just before I fainted?”

“There, goodness me, Miss Chain, don’t carry on in that way; let us go out and look at the flowers. Remember that I shall soon have to leave you for my new situation in the country, but I hope that you will come and see me in Sussex. Tom says it is at a fine park.”

“I wish I could go too, Lucy.”

“Who knows? The lady might want a companion some day. Come along, you’ll soon be better.”

“Not if I am worried again in this way by a would-be gentleman, who has now seen me working for my daily bread through his dishonesty. But here comes my mother. I am so glad, Lucy, that she went out before he appeared. Don’t say anything about it to her at present.”

“Never fear, Miss Chain, for I begin to see what you mean, though I didn’t at first, that you may have really seen that man who tricked you and your mother at Boulogne in the shameful way you told me about.”

“Hush! Let us drop the subject for to-day.”

CHAPTER II
AN ACCIDENT

Mr Goodall and Tom Trigger made their way down to a sheltered shed near the cricket ground of the Crystal Palace, with the air-ship, and they proceeded to inflate it through a small gas-pipe, which was three-quarters of an inch in diameter. This process occupied an hour, so that they had ample time to talk about Miss Chain’s fright and fit.

“What is your opinion of what happened just now in the workroom?” asked Mr Goodall.

“Hardly know, sir, I’m sure. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and where there’s shadow there’s substance.”

“Yes, especially as a look through the peep-hole confirmed Miss Chain’s suspicions, whatever they were.”

“Do you think, sir, that he was looking after her?”

“To be candid, Trigger, I rather thought that the fellow was looking after me, and wanted to know where my balloons were located. I have come across him three times before this morning.”

“Indeed, sir, that seems odd.”

“I first saw him in Trafalgar Square, next he passed me in a hansom when my cab broke down, and then to my surprise he turned up in the palace, talking to a young lady and a gentleman, and he had that same little fellow with him whom we saw behind him outside the room. I noticed, too, that the tall man gave me an ugly look, as if he had some knowledge of what my business here consisted of.”

“I think I have heard you say, sir, that your uncle and your father both object to ballooning?”

“Yes, they do. That reminds me, I have just heard that my father has met with an accident on board one of his own ships. The mishap is reported to have occurred whilst he was on his way from Sydney to Cape Town, and my uncle, a merchant in London, is anxiously looking for further information. I must see him as soon as possible, Trigger. But, as regards these queer strangers who seem to be following me about, I scarcely know what to think, for the big, dark fellow is shadowing Miss Chain as well, it would appear. I hope my uncle has not told him that I am here.”

“I don’t suppose he has, sir. For my part, I rather think he is after the young lady.”

“After the pretty girl who was with him in the palace, do you mean?”

“No, sir, I meant after Miss Chain, for he may have known her before she came here. But these shadows are wonderful things to terrify people, though I don’t believe they’d send you into a fit, Mr Goodall.”

“They might—into a fit of laughter, Tom. But, look here, I want you to hurry on, for many reasons, my first ascent, as all the arrangements are made, and I did think of ascending this afternoon, but I have decided to be satisfied with a trial of the air-ship instead, and to baffle this spy. At the same time, the palace directors are relying upon my keeping faith this week, though no ascent has been announced, but the gas has been ordered, so that we must proceed as soon as possible.”

“The air-ship is full now, sir. Shall I turn off the gas?”

“Yes, and I will lead the way to the lake and hold her stem, while you keep abaft and carry the little steam propeller.”

“I am quite ready, sir. It is just the day for this sort of work.”

“Yes, and I hope that all will go well and lead to something successful. We must keep to this end of the lake and get her under weigh before the wind gets up, as a slight ripple is to be seen on the water down where those boats are. I hope that we shall not be interrupted by lookers-on.”

The aero-aquatic combination having been connected by cords, Mr Goodall took up his position on the windward bank, while Trigger went round to the opposite side to receive the air-ship, and, as one of the palace police was there in plain clothes, his services were accepted to assist Trigger when she crossed over, so nothing could have been more promising to the experimentalists, who looked like boys sailing their miniature cutters from side to side of a pond.

But, during the third spin, when the ardent aeronaut was intent on the working of his invention, two boats approached so as to afford the rowers a closer view of the attractive sight. In the first boat were two youths, who evidently knew how to use their sculls, but in the second boat a lady was standing up, eagerly watching the air-ship, which was moving so prettily over the water, whilst her companion, a fine-looking man, was pulling almost savagely to get ahead, when the two boats collided. For a moment the lady swayed to and fro, trying to regain her balance, then there was a splash and she had disappeared beneath the water.

Mr Goodall, who was on the side of the lake where the lady fell over, was expecting to see her reckless rower spring in to her assistance, but he either lost his head or lacked the courage to do so. Goodall therefore, found himself instinctively divesting himself of his coat, shoes and hat, when he dashed in just in time to catch the lady by her hair as she rose to the surface, and here he held her, whilst the more spirited youths helped to take her into their boat; but the gentleman, who looked as if he were jealous of Mr Goodall’s prompt aid, rendered some tardy assistance at last by holding on to the side of the youths’ boat whilst the lady was being lifted in. She was immediately taken to the bank, where Trigger and the policeman came to the rescue. At this juncture, her companion became demonstratively active, while Trigger ran to the cricket ground refreshment stall and brought back something to restore the lady, who was not too far gone to perceive who had rescued her in the nick of time; but her feeble effort to express her gratitude to Mr Goodall was checked by her now officious companion whose arm encircled her waist, whilst he ignored the aeronaut altogether, and seemed to take to himself the credit of having saved her.

With a smile at this effrontery, Mr Goodall went to see after his air-ship, which had got among the trees, and Trigger went to fetch his master’s clothes, which were on the opposite bank.

Meanwhile, the policeman advised that the lady should be taken in a cab to the Thicket Hotel, which was not far off in the Anerley Road, and there she was seen to and provided with dry clothes by the landlady.

When Trigger was alone with his master in the workroom, he could not help expressing his indignation at the “conceited snob,” who had never even thanked Mr Goodall for his services.

“I only wish,” Tom said, “we had him here, and if I wouldn’t pitch into him for his cowardly behaviour, may I never ascend with you again, sir!”

“I admire your pluck, Trigger, but you forget that he may have been here to take note of my movements. You did not notice, perhaps, that he was the spy, the shadow man, who accompanied the young lady whom I saw in the palace to-day. In the excitement of the moment, I did not at first identify the party, but I can very well understand the fellow’s feelings towards me; besides, I am sure that he is no friend to me. Mind that you do not, for the present, mention what has happened to Miss Chain or to Lucy. When I have changed my clothes, I’ll come back and look up the policeman to find out how the lady is. Remember, not a word, Trigger.”

“All right, sir; I’m as good as if I were under sealed orders, and I am not the man to break faith.”

Presently the policeman knocked at the door and informed Mr Goodall that the lady was getting on nicely, and that the gentleman had gone up to the Palace Club room to meet the lady’s father, and to inform him of what had taken place. A carriage was then ordered to take the trio to catch a train that was going south, but neither the lady nor the gentleman mentioned where they were going to, or whence they came.

After hearing these particulars, Mr Goodall, who seemed to know the man’s face, asked him his name.

“My name, sir, is Warner.”

“Ah! I recollect you now perfectly. What is your Christian name?”

“Unfortunately, it is Simon, sir; but I do not belong to the detective department, though I am as sharp, perhaps, as some of them that do.”

“I daresay, and I’ll get you to keep an eye on my workroom if you will.”

“With pleasure, sir. I know that you have a lot of valuable property here, and I told your assistant, when I helped him at the lake, that I would look round occasionally.”

“Thanks, Warner. Now, tell me more about the lady.”

“You saved her life, Mr Goodall, and not a moment too soon, but her companion tried to make her believe, after you left, that he rescued her. I couldn’t stand it any longer, and, whilst the gent was out of the way, I blurted out the plain truth.”

“And what did the lady say to your honest candour, Warner?”

“She replied, ‘You know, policeman, and I know that a strange gentleman in his shirt sleeves took me out of the water, and I had seen that stranger once before to-day in the palace, and should you see him again, express the deepest gratitude to him from me, and I shall hope to see you again, policeman, if you will leave me your name.’”

“Well done, Simon! You’ll be a rising man some day. I hope you left your name?”

“No, I didn’t, sir, for I heard the lady’s friend coming before I could say much more.”

“That was a pity, Warner, though, personally, I do not wish to be mixed up with that affair more than I have been, as my social position and family connection compel me to pursue my hobby in as quiet and private a manner as possible.”

“Yes, sir, I understood something of that sort from Trigger, who told me not to open my mouth too wide about his master’s doings. In my line we are careful about that, Mr Goodall; but, hang me if I could keep from popping in a word about you when I found that the lady was being told all wrong as to who saved her.”

“You are quite sure that you did not mention my name?”

“Oh no, sir; the lady was hurried off and I don’t suppose that we shall hear much more about the affair, as people of that sort like to hush up accidents that would drag their names into the newspapers.”

“Very well, then, Warner, give me a look up soon again. I should like to have another chat with you.”

“I know, sir, that the lady would have liked to have heard more about the gentleman who rescued her, as she asked me who you were and when you were going to make another experiment. Of course I said nothing on that subject.”

“Ah! Her friend ought to have saved her. I’ve met him several times before to-day. I suppose you don’t know who he is?”

“I do not, sir, but he looked as if your prompt plunge made him feel ashamed of himself.”

“He has been hanging about here to catch sight of Miss Chain or of me.”

“It’s my humble opinion, sir, that we shall see him again before long, and that little man as well.”

“Look sharp after them then, Warner!”

“I’ll do my best, sir, but I am not a trained detective like Hawksworth whom you know.”

“Do I? I was not aware that I knew anyone of that name.”

“I have seen him in your room, sir.”

“Have you? Then I didn’t know his calling.”

“He is that jolly, chatty person I have seen you speaking to.”

“Do you mean that intelligent, pleasant sort of man who used to interest himself so much in ballooning, and who used to keep an eye on people outside by looking through the peep-hole in the screen?”

“That’s the man I mean, sir. That is Jack Hawksworth, who is said to be a London detective. He has a case on here now, or I should say he is on the lookout for two criminals from Australia.”

“Now you mention it, I have been surprised to see him in two or three different ‘get-ups’ in the same day; but really I took him to be someone connected with the palace.”

“He has not been down long, sir, and I believe he only comes out here for a change, as he expects to spot his men among the fashionables inside. His make-up, they say, is wonderful. But I hope you will not let him know that I have mentioned who he is.”

“Oh that’s all right, Warner, but I shall certainly not satisfy his inquiries or encourage his visits for the future; but I shall always be glad to see you here, as you are skilful and discreet.”

“I forgot to mention, Mr Goodall, that the young lady alluded to the reckless way the dark gentleman rowed their boat to look at your air-ship. She also said he considered flying machines and flying men much more useful than balloons.”

“They undoubtedly would be, Warner, if they could be made to fly and navigate the air.”

“I thought, sir, that men and air machines had flown as high as the tower yonder.”

“Don’t you believe in anything of that kind, Warner. Why, a fortune could be made if they could cross and re-cross the North Tower.”

“Then, you don’t believe in directing balloons, sir, or in flying?”

“I have already shown you this morning that balloons, by the combined aid of air and water, can, to some extent, be guided on the ocean, and I shall some day try my plan on a larger scale, at sea, perhaps.”

“I should like to assist in that work, Mr Goodall.”

“Well, strange things happen. You may, for all we know, be able to render assistance in a trial of that sort. It is my desire to show while I am here the possibility of using balloons for one or two novel experiments, and to show that they are still, if skilfully handled, of more value than flying men, and machines which cannot fly.”

CHAPTER III
MESSRS GOODALL BROTHERS

For a short time we will leave the amateur aeronaut, in order to make the acquaintance of his uncle, Mr William Goodall, who was a merchant and shipowner in London.

His brother, Mr Henry Goodall, superintended the Sydney branch of the firm, and was Harry Goodall’s father.

Both uncle and father were very averse to ballooning, and they were unanimous in desiring that Harry should not only give up that pursuit and settle down to a mercantile calling, but that he should conform to their wishes as regards a young heiress, the only daughter of Squire Dove of Wedwell Hall, Sussex, who was a friend of theirs. The brothers, indeed, both desired that Harry should make Miss Dove’s acquaintance, with a view to future matrimony; but he was obstinate, and could not be persuaded to fall in with their views, of which he had been duly apprised.

About the time of the lake experiment, Mr William Goodall was expecting a call from a Mr Falcon, who had embarked at Sydney for Cape Town, with Henry Goodall in his ship, the Neptune. On the voyage, whilst a strong gale of wind was blowing, an accident had happened to the owner, which was witnessed by Mr Falcon and his servant. Captain Link, who commanded the Neptune on this occasion, was not himself an eye-witness of what took place, as he was on the poop directing the crew. Mr Falcon was indeed the only person who could give reliable information, with the exception of the ship’s steward,—who was lying seriously ill from injuries he received by falling on his head.

Under these circumstances, Mr Falcon came on in a steamer from the Cape, in advance of the Neptune, in order to give the London merchant full details of the mishap, and to transact some financial business with Squire Dove of Wedwell Hall, according to an arrangement made with the Sydney merchant, who had approved of Mr Falcon’s plans and desired that he should negotiate with Squire Dove on his arrival in England, though the financier was not empowered to do so by any written document that he could produce, but by an agreement, as he explained it, prior to the merchant’s accident.

One evening, while Mr William Goodall was dozing in his armchair, Mr Falcon was ushered into his presence, and so anxious was the merchant about his brother’s fate, that he opened the conversation without much ceremony; however, he did mention, as a business-like prelude, that his brother Henry had told him by letter that Mr Falcon was going to England on financial matters of great importance, and that he had kindly promised to try and persuade Harry to abandon ballooning. It was moreover mentioned that Mr Falcon would see Squire Dove, as the financier specially wished to add his name and his contributions to the new scheme which Mr Falcon had projected, and which he wished to float in London. Mr Goodall admitted, too, that his brother had spoken of his intention to handsomely reward Mr Falcon by testamentary disposition, if he were successful. Mr Falcon was questioned, too, as to a recent will which Henry Goodall was said to have made just before he left Sydney,—but the financier was not communicative on this subject.

“Now,” said Mr William Goodall, “tell me what has happened to my brother?”

“Certainly, sir; it is a painful duty, but I will do so to the best of my recollection. When I decided upon leaving Sydney, accompanied by my servant, an invaluable attendant, I had not the remotest idea that your brother would go part of the way with us. It appears that he had, only a day or two before the Neptune sailed, made up his mind to go as far as Cape Town on urgent business, the nature of which he did not mention to me. We had been great friends for some time in Sydney, and my servant, knowing his habits, was very useful to both of us on board. Your brother was almost invariably on deck, for he could not bear to be cooped up in his cabin owing to an asthmatic affection. And when a storm sprang up, without much warning, soon after a rapid fall of the barometer, and before ample preparations could be made to meet it, whilst the Neptune began to pitch and roll heavily, I begged of Mr Henry Goodall to go below; but it was useless, he would remain. My servant and I were both with him, when all hands were ordered to their stations, and we began to ship heavy seas. Of course Captain Link’s commands were promptly obeyed—men were sent at once aloft to shorten sail, but, before they had time to secure the upper sails, the ship was once or twice almost on her beam ends. The fore-royal and top-gallant sails were blown out of the roping, and then the Neptune righted, but, as she flew up to the wind, a fearfully heavy sea struck her on the port bow, sweeping her decks and dashing all three of us against the bulwarks. When the ship cleared herself of this terrific sea, I looked round, and, to my horror, your brother had disappeared. The steward, who had come on deck to have a look round, immediately gave the alarm that the owner was overboard, for he had caught sight of a dark object with outstretched arms being swept over the Neptune’s side. A moment afterwards, he himself was, by another heavy sea, struck down the companion ladder and stunned. The fury of the gale, however, was such that no man could live in such a sea. We laid to for more than an hour and kept a most careful lookout, but no object could be discerned, so that there remained no doubt, I am sorry to say, that the owner had perished.”

“Excuse my emotion, Mr Falcon, the news is so shocking; but tell me, did you or your servant see my poor brother go overboard?”

“We could not possibly do so, sir, as we were ourselves washed against the bulwarks, and narrowly escaped being swept over too, but the steward saw him go.”

“And what became of the steward?”

“God knows! I expect he is dead, sir. He was hurt in the spine and head, so that when I left Cape Town his life was despaired of.”

“Then there is no hope that my poor brother was saved?”

“None whatever, I fear, for we saw nothing near us, so far as the thick weather enabled us to perceive. An hour or two later, when the moon rose and the sea went down somewhat, we saw a dismasted vessel in the distance, but he could not have reached her.”

“I understand you to say that the weather had been thick previously?”

“Very thick, but, as I have said, it cleared afterwards, though no one on board had the slightest hope that the owner could have survived the fearful seas which raged at the time.”

At this point, Mr William Goodall was much moved by Mr Falcon’s recital, then, for some moments, he seemed to be absorbed in meditation, but, on regaining his self-possession, he exclaimed,—

“I may have to proceed to Sydney, Mr Falcon, but of course not before Captain Link’s arrival with the Neptune. Now I must ask you not to move in any financial matter connected with me, Squire Dove and others, or on behalf of my poor brother, at present, if you please, Mr Falcon, for I shall be most anxious to hear Captain Link’s version of this terrible affair.”

“I had your brother’s instructions to treat with Squire Dove as soon after my arrival as possible, sir.”

“Yes, yes; but now that he is dead, you will kindly, I hope, defer to my wishes under the sad circumstances; and, look here, Mr Falcon, I would not, should you decide upon seeing my nephew, tell him what has occurred.”

“In that respect, sir, I will attend to your wishes, but I must do something, known or unknown by him, to prevent your nephew from seeking an introduction to Miss Dove until he drops this frantic ballooning, for I pledged myself to do so to your late brother, Mr Goodall, before I left Sydney, and I believe, sir, that ‘prevention is better than cure.’”

“I agree with you there, but you may not be aware that my nephew is engaged in preparing for a series of ascents from the Crystal Palace grounds. However, I will not dictate to one of your clear discernment.”

“Don’t, please, Mr Goodall. I shall follow a plan of which I think you will not disapprove—a plan which may have a certain deterrent effect—but I shall not put myself forward in such a way that he will know me by name, nor shall I rashly check his movements.”

“No; I would not attempt to do anything that would scare him or make him angry; but if you can give him a distaste for his hobby, I presume you will be carrying out my late brother’s wish—”

“And my own desire, sir; but I had better not argue with him, perhaps, just now, though my eye will be more frequently upon him than he may be aware of; in fact, I have already seen him more than once, sir, though he had no idea of it.”

“Indeed! Then when Captain Link arrives, Mr Falcon, would you like to meet him, and join us on board near Gravesend?”

“Wouldn’t it be better for you to see Link alone, sir?”

“Yes, I think perhaps it would—and now will you favour me with your address?”

“Allow me to hand you one of my cards, sir.”

“Ah! I perceive your name is Filcher Falcon.”

“Oh—ah—I have given you the wrong card.”

“Eh? A relative’s, perhaps?”

“You mustn’t guess again, Mr Goodall, but here is my own card and my hotel, sir; and if you will let me have the other card back, I shall feel much obliged.”

“Most certainly, Mr Falcon. And now, when do you propose to visit the Doves?”

“I’ve already looked in at Wedwell Hall, Mr Goodall, on my way up from Newhaven, as I had a packet to deliver as early after landing as possible—that was your brother’s express wish.”

“Was it really? But wouldn’t his awfully sudden death check your ardour a little, and, to be candid, I did not at all understand that you had seen the Doves. Then, of course, you have seen Miss Edith Dove, the squire’s only daughter?”

“I had that honour, sir, and found her a most charming young lady.”

“Well, then, as you have seen the young lady that my poor brother wished his son to marry, you can easily understand what a silly fellow my nephew is not to avail himself of such a splendid opportunity.”

“Say rather of such a golden opportunity, sir, which not one in a thousand could resist.”

“May I ask if Mrs Falcon accompanied you to this country?”

“At present, sir, I am struggling on in single infelicity.”

“Well, to be sure! I was not aware of that. But I perceive that you are of a facetious turn of mind. However, I should advise you to mind how you deal with my nephew, for, beneath a calm demeanour, he is a resolute and touchy young fellow and an expert in athletics,” said the old gentleman, who was really very proud of his nephew. “But perhaps you know what I mean, Mr Falcon?” he added.

“I don’t see much to fear, sir, but until your nephew throws up ballooning, it would be perfect madness for him to go down to Wedwell—to force himself into Miss Dove’s society.”

“Oh! that’s your candid opinion, is it? Then all I have to say further this evening, is to thank you for this visit, and to remind you that we must meet again shortly, if you have no objection.”

“Most readily, sir,” replied Mr Falcon, who took his departure with an air of assurance, which left an impression on the merchant’s mind that the colonial financier was a highly objectionable character, who was not a fit companion, much less adviser, for his nephew—and certainly not for Squire Dove’s rich and lovely daughter.

CHAPTER IV
AN APPEAL

Mr Falcon’s stirring details of the storm and of the loss of Henry Goodall, left no room for doubt in his brother’s mind that he had perished; and as the financier, with more haste than discretion, had visited the Doves and had met with a reception which was warmer than the merchant was prepared to hear of, it became advisable that he should send for his nephew to beg of him to forego the allurements of ballooning and submit himself forthwith to Miss Dove’s fascinations, which had proved captivating even to the colonial man of figures. However, Mr Goodall did not at present propose to tell his nephew of his father’s death.

The situation, judging from Mr Falcon’s disclosures as to his admiration of Miss Dove, was hourly becoming more critical, so that, on the arrival of the amateur aeronaut, his uncle, with ill-disguised earnestness, said,—

“Glad to see you, Harry, especially as urgent affairs almost demand a meeting between us. Now tell me what you have been doing? I hear that you have been pottering about at the Crystal Palace with your balloons, and associating with all sorts of people, instead of being in the city with me, or visiting the Doves, whose acquaintance you seem reluctant to make. I am informed that your poor father—”

“Surely nothing serious has happened to him, uncle?”

“I am not saying that, Harry, but I can tell you that your father has met with an accident, and that he was very anxious about you before he left Sydney. He has sent on a Mr Falcon to see us, and I am expecting Captain Link’s return shortly, when I shall hear more precise news. Now, why not go down at once to Wedwell Hall, in compliance with your father’s wish and my own? I am amazed at your shortsightedness and lack of curiosity in not wishing to see and know a wealthy and excellent young lady, endowed with many good qualities, and who will become the owner some day of a magnificent property, which you absolutely turn up your nose at.”

“Are you referring to Miss Dove, uncle?”

“You know I am; and if you fail to win her, someone else will. Some vulgar millionaire will carry her off while you are messing about in the clouds. I’ve no patience with you!”

“Do stop, uncle, for I am inclined to remain for the present just as I am. You cannot make a lover of science into a fortune hunter. If fate had already thrown me into the society of Miss Dove, I might, or might not, have fallen in love with her. As it is, I cannot withdraw from what I have in hand, nor, to be candid, can I become a merchant’s clerk as a means to an end.”

“Harry Goodall, I am shocked at your folly and want of worldly wisdom. I admire your courage in saying what you mean, and I have not a word to say against your general good conduct and exemption from the prevailing vices of the day, but your persistence in this hallucination, for I can call it nothing else, is most aggravating.”

“In what other respect, uncle?”

“Why, in mixing yourself up with questionable associates, instead of moving more among people in your own class of life.”

“There must be good among all classes, uncle, employers and employed. People in my service, whether men or women, have as high characters, probably, as many who are above them in social position,” replied the young man, with spirit. “Another point I will venture to mention, uncle. I am too young to think of settling down in life just yet.”

“You are not too young to have feminine associates at the Crystal Palace, so I am told,” said his uncle, turning round sharply.

“I employ respectable needlewomen. No harm will happen to them or to me at the Crystal Palace, uncle.”

“I trust not, but I think you would be better engaged by seeking lady-like society. However, I have done what I could for you, and so has your—your father, but your late indifference to our advice and wishes is most worrying.”

“You forget, uncle, that I am not actually declining to comply with your requests, so far as a visit to the Doves goes, but I cannot do so at present.”

“Then I decline to say any more to you, beyond this,—Take care, Harry Goodall, that you are not cut off with a bare pittance. Your future prospects depend upon your giving up your hobby, to begin with. Whilst you continue a balloonatic, if I may use a strong term, you will never be welcome at Wedwell.”

“I fail to see why, uncle.”

“Well, more fool you. That is all I have to say, beyond this one reminder. I happen to know that if you persist in not seeking Miss Dove’s hand, she will soon be wooed, and very likely won, while you are thinking about it. Then it will be too late, my boy, and as to myself, I may have to leave England, perhaps very soon; but your—your considerate father, before he left Sydney, commissioned a friend to seek you out and advise you to turn your attention to matters of business, and not to wilfully neglect Wedwell Hall.”

Scarcely had Mr Goodall concluded what he was saying, when a servant announced the arrival of the “Ship Photographer.”

“I don’t know such a person,” replied the merchant, “but perhaps you won’t mind seeing him, Harry? At anyrate, show him up,” said Mr Goodall to the servant.

“Which ship of mine have you photographed, pray?” said the merchant to the man as he entered.

“Mr Goodall’s air-ship, sir.”

“Air-ship? That must be a vessel belonging to my nephew?”

“Yes, sir.”

The aeronaut here interposed, indignantly asking by what right the man had gained admittance?

“Stay, stay, Harry,” cried the merchant; “he may have something worth showing—something nautical, perhaps?”

“Not altogether nautical, sir, but aeronautical,” replied the photographer, apologetically.

“Then your errand is connected with my nephew, and not with me?”

“Precisely, sir. I have hurried over from Sydenham to show my first proofs of the ‘Rescue of the Lady on the Lake.’”

“The rescue of the lady on the lake!” exclaimed the merchant, with surprise.

“I protest, uncle, against this liberty and intrusion,” said Harry. “I have had no notice that such a subject was to be published.”

“Sir,” said the photographer, “do permit me, with the most respectful deference, to explain that I was taking views around the lake at the Crystal Palace when you rescued that young lady from a watery grave.”

“What business had you—” began Harry.

“Go on, photographer,” cried the merchant. “My nephew seems to want to hide a praiseworthy act. Let me see these proofs that you have brought.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Ay—yes. I daresay they have an interest and value of their own, but, without my glasses, I cannot very well decipher the different figures. I must study them a little, for I fancy I know one face. You can leave these with me while you go below and get some refreshment. I will ring the bell.”

“All I want, gentlemen, is your authority to publish them.”

“On no account whatever,” said Harry, emphatically.

“I certainly agree with my nephew there,” added the merchant.

“James,” said Mr Goodall to the servant who came in answer to the bell, “see that some refreshment is sent up into the dining-room for this gentleman.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait one minute, Mr Photographer, while I take another glance at your photos. Yes, Harry, there you are, as plain as a pike-staff, in the water, lifting up a lady, who looks more dead than alive, into a boat. She has golden hair—dear, dear—and some distance from her is a man. Surely I know that face. Who is he, photographer?”

“He was said to be the lady’s intended, sir.”

“The deuce he was; he doesn’t look as if he were worthy of her. I’m glad to see my nephew occupies the post of honour.”

“It was a splendid act on the part of Mr Harry Goodall, but the gent who is holding down the boat to balance it whilst the lady is being lifted in, doesn’t show up to great advantage.”

“You don’t happen to know his name?” again asked Mr Goodall.

“No, sir; I wish I did, for several people have asked me, as he has been cutting rather a queer figure at the Crystal Palace lately, gentlemen, which you might have heard about?”

“Now,” said Mr Goodall, with a fixed look at the photographer, “you go down and have some refreshment whilst I have a chat with my nephew.”

“Much obliged, I’m sure, sir.”

“You, Harry, must buy the negative of this affair, and so prevent anything approaching to publicity; and if you attach no value to these photos, I do. There is one for you and I will keep the other, and here’s some extra cash to square the artist with, but don’t lose sight of him until you reach Sydenham, and make the best arrangement you can; that being done, do, my dear Harry, bring your travels in the air to a close. I am not without hope that you will yet make your mark in the world; in fact, you have done so already. If you are pledged to make these ascents, do so, dear boy, and then do something more congenial to my taste, for I will not hide from you that the accident to your father may prove a turning point to the fortunes of our firm, and that is why I wish to impress on you the great issues which may follow your decision as to giving up ballooning and seeking an alliance with Miss Dove.”

“When will this messenger from the pater come to see me, uncle?”

“I cannot answer that question off-hand. He may have been to the Palace without your knowing it; but be guarded, Harry; he may not be a well-wisher to you, after all.”

“Do you think the photo of the downcast man in the boat is like Mr Falcon?”

“I can’t say for certain until I have studied the photo more closely. There is some resemblance to the Sydney financier; at the same time, his figure is something like our friend Captain Link’s, though his expression of face is not so noble. I am rather puzzled to know what his movements have been down at Wedwell Hall. He has been to see the Doves on some monetary affairs, and I should have been glad to hear that you had been there as well. However, it would be of little use, I feel sure, for you to go there until you cut ballooning and join us in the City.”

“I will think seriously of what you have said, uncle, but I will make no promises.”

“Better not, Harry, if you would be likely to break them. I want performances not promises, and I have faith in you yet; that is, if you do not drift into the extreme flightiness of the days in which we live.”

“My own efforts, uncle, will not be in the form of flight; but they may tend to expose the extravagances of those who pretend that they can steer and fly.”

“And what then are you going to do with balloons?”

“I hardly know at present, uncle, but I hope to show that balloons and an air-ship can be made to do much more useful work than they are supposed to be capable of performing.”

“Well, Harry, if in that negative style you can do the least good, I wish you success, but I strongly recommend you to let aeronautics alone, and to seek my friend Squire Dove and his daughter. That will be a more profitable pastime, I should say.”

CHAPTER V
SCHEMING!

Harry Goodall returned to his rooms on Sydenham Hill, having travelled with the ship photographer, whose productions had worked such a marvellous change in Uncle Goodall.

A monetary settlement was speedily arrived at the same evening, when a lively chat ensued, in which the aeronaut agreed with the photographer as to the gentleman on the lake being known to Mr Goodall, who advised his nephew, after the dispute at his residence, to pull off his ascents quickly. However, the cheery conclusion of the aeronaut’s interview caused him to sleep soundly and to be up in good time the next morning to meet Tom Trigger, who had taken the opportunity of his master’s absence to go down with his Lucy to her new situation in Sussex, after which outing, Tom brought back such agreeable recollections of his trip, that Harry Goodall had to listen to what he had seen, and how the gamekeeper, Bennet, had given him a turn at rabbit shooting with a wonderful killing gun, which Trigger was supposed to have handled with surprising dexterity. He ended his story by saying that Lucy’s last words to him were that he should be kind to Miss Chain, who had been so cruelly imposed upon by the man whose shadow on the screen she had positively identified, and which Harry Goodall began himself to infer was no other than a correct representation of the mysterious Mr Falcon.

“But hold on, Tom,” cried his master, as his assistant was proceeding with what he had seen and done; “we shall have to finish your trip as we walk through the Palace. I am very glad to hear that Lucy has found such a nice situation, and as to Miss Chain’s tormentor, you and I may settle the reckoning with him some day perhaps, but I must remind you that we have not a moment to spare, for, weather permitting, an ascent must positively take place to-morrow.”

“Very good, sir,” said Trigger; “and may I ask how you got on with your uncle, sir?”

“The finish was better than the start, Tom. I held my ground and stood to my guns during a hotly-contested action on both sides, when a lucky turn was given to the affair by the arrival of a photographer from this establishment.”

“Oh, yes; he showed me a capital photo. When I told him where you were, then he handed me one, sir, which I gave to Lucy before she left here.”

“Be sure you tell her to destroy it, Tom, or not to show it.”

“I will, sir, next time I see her.”

“I have suppressed them, Tom, as they might expose just what I want to keep secret—namely, the rescue of that lady.”

“I don’t think, sir, that one I gave to Lucy will do much harm in her care, as she did not look at it much; besides, she doesn’t know about the lake affair.”

“Good! We must now confine ourselves, Trigger, to the necessary preparations for the morning. I wish those two parachutes to be seen to and the triangular frames for our model balloons, which will prove a novelty.”

“I suppose, sir, we shall want the small silk balloon for the signalling experiment?”

“Yes, you must see that they are all in readiness, as I do not intend to follow on the old lines, even with pilot balloons and parachutes. I will show, if possible, another and more instructive way of employing them than has hitherto been adopted. Balloons and parachutes as well can be applied, you know, Trigger, to better uses than they have been, as my respected instructor has impressed upon me, and he suggested also the modus operandi which I am about to try.”

“And I have no doubt they will succeed, sir. I was going to ask, too, whether Messrs Brock had not better see about your torpedoes and aerial shells which you intend using?”

“They are already made, Trigger; but you can let them know that they will be wanted to-morrow.”

“Do you expect any of the military aeronauts here, sir?”

“Oh, no. I have not invited anyone. What I undertake will be to show what has been left untouched by war-balloonists, although I admit that some of our military aeronauts are very clever and are likely to figure creditably in actual warfare. But of late, almost anybody is supposed to be qualified for public ballooning, so long as he is what is termed a break-neck fellow, and this qualification, without other equally important ones, has brought about such a long list of fatalities.”

“Everybody ought to know, sir, that successful aeronauts are born, not made.”

“Yes, quite so; but here comes Warner. I must have a few words with him in private, to ascertain if he has any tidings of the spy, or of this great detective, who has made our acquaintance without our knowing who he was.”

“Do you mean Hawksworth, sir?”

“Yes, that’s the very man, and Warner tells me he is an expert in his line; but, if I am not very much deceived, Warner would accomplish quite as much if he were promoted, and without so much flourish of trumpets.”

The next day, the gorgeous balloon was brought out betimes, though the ascent was not to take place until the afternoon, but Mr Goodall wished to have everything ready, so that the inflation could begin before the dinner hour. The supply of gas was known to be abundant, and a special main of large dimensions was found beneath a slight slope, where a roped circle was staked off to keep the ordinary visitors at a suitable distance. A telegram had been despatched to Mr Magnus Ohren, C.E., at the Lower Sydenham Gas Works, and to Mr C. Gandon, the engineer, to say that their inspector would be able to turn on at 11.30 a.m. to the minute, and by that time the first stream of gas was seen to raise the flat silk, so that in less than half an hour a dome of resplendent alternate segments of amber and crimson gores elicited the admiration of many spectators. In fact, there were already present, as regular daily visitors to the Palace, rather more than the amateur aeronaut cared about seeing, as he knew that they would increase in numbers as the day went on, for he dreaded anything approaching to a Bank Holiday crowd.

Whilst the filling of the giant machine was going on, Mr Falcon and his servant, Croft, stealthily entered the turnstile of the North Tower, to quietly discuss their past undertakings and future plans, well knowing that at such an early hour they would, in all probability, be alone on the balcony, having at the same time a good view of all that was going on. It was in this secluded spot that they drifted into a retrospect of their previous doings, but naturally their remarks were made in such a strain that no third person could make head or tail of what they were alluding to, although their ambiguity and references might have attracted the attention of Simon Warner, or of Hawksworth, had either of them been within earshot of their observations. However, as it happened, they were undisturbed for more than twenty minutes and chatted freely together, as the new lift at that time had not been attached to the tower.

“What a magnificent prospect we have, Croft!” exclaimed Falcon.

“It is that, sir, for we are ‘monarchs of all we survey;’ at least, we shall be so eventually, I hope.”

“How so, Eben? I shorten your Christian name of Ebenezer for prudential reasons.”

“I tumble to that, without objecting. What I mean, Mr Falcon, is this, You wish, if not entirely, to remove, at anyrate, to disable the amateur skyscraper yonder, as well as his balloon and his assistant.”

“Just so, but who would have thought, Eben, that a man playing the menial rôle you do would rise above the level of gaol-birds, and talk as you can when you like!”

“You needn’t taunt me with that; you know I was well brought up, and but for our adventures—”

“Hold on! I thought I heard footsteps. Take a look round, Eben, while I pose as an artist taking sketches, from a lofty standpoint, of the aeronautic scene.”

“What you say is all very fine, Mr F., but time is money. Let us come to the point.”

“Very well then, here goes. On our left is the balloon, looking as if it could be easily destroyed. An idea flashes upon my mind that I can manage that much at the descent, Eben.”

“Exactly; if you can manage to be there, Mr F.”

“Well, look here, Eben, the wind, don’t you see, is blowing down to Gravesend, and, as I want to look round Tilbury way, to find out when a certain ship enters the Thames, I shall presently move in that direction to watch what comes in, and also what comes down that way from aloft; for I may as well tell you, that as Goodall served me out by his masterly rescue of that lady, I mean to give him a Roland for an Oliver by spoiling his beauty, so that he cannot present himself at Wedwell. You follow me, Eben, don’t you?”

“I do, and will gladly consent to do as you propose.”

“That’s settled then; I need say no more on that head.”

“But supposing that you do mar and cripple the hobbyist and his hobby, what is your special object for taking on such a risky performance?”

“Why, you short-sighted man, to have the heiress, Miss D., all to myself, of course. I don’t want, between ourselves, such a man as Harry Goodall to even show his face at Wedwell Park—either as a young merchant or in any other capacity; for we must have two strings to our bow, in case our work on board the Neptune fails to pay. We did our stroke of business on the other side of the world, and the owner of the Neptune is—”

“Hold on, Mr F.; let’s have no more reminders of that sort, if you please. But, by-the-bye, how about the will?”

“Not proven, at present, Eben; but didn’t I manage that finely, and the life assurances in Sydney as well. They, you remember, preceded the starting of my financial scheme, which the squire is nibbling at, and I will give him something else to nibble at,—namely, a novel mode of flight.”

“Ay, ay, nibbling is all very well in its way, and so is flying, but will the squire bolt the bait as you are preparing it?”

“I think so, Eben, but you must hear the rest of my plan. Now listen, on the left, well under us, is the balloon, and on our right, almost directly beneath us, is Goodall’s workroom, through the top of which we can see everything, as there is no screen there—”

“Ah! now I begin to grasp what you wish to do.”

“What then?”

“Why, to drop a shell down there, and—”

“Nothing of the sort, Eben. Wrong again, my boy. All I want is this, You see that door below, leading into the engine-house, near the foundation of the glass-room?”

“Yes; what of that?”

“Well, just inside that engine-house there used to be, and most likely is now, a disused back staircase that leads to the glass-room. I now propose that you should just explore there, and if the Chains are thereabout, or Goodall or Tom T., you can hold off—any way you will, if you once gain access, during the dinner hour, so as to grope your way about and leave your marks, for, as you know, I formerly had some financial business with the Chains, and don’t want to see much more of them. But mind what you are about. Don’t be rash, Eben. I only want this to be a little voyage of discovery.”

“You can consider that done, Mr F. I see now that I know what your little game is; but what else am I to do?”

“You must first creep and then go ahead afterwards, when I tell you to do so. The first part of my plan of campaign is this,—The Chains must be shifted, but not removed, mind that—you know what I mean—neither dynamite nor bloodshed, but milder measures.”

“Such as you adopted—”

“Halt, man, halt. In the name of common sense, what were you going to say?”

“Not much more I can tell you, guv’nor. The fact is, we must cut it short and get to work. Just lend me your opera glass please.”

“What for?”

“Why to see what I can make of that fellow talking to Mr G. near the blessed balloon. Does he look anything like Jack Hawksworth?”

“What, that muff who was expected in New South Wales! I shouldn’t fear him, Eben, but I can see Warner drawing this way; he is the one to avoid.”

“Then we’d better make a move.”

“Agreed, Eben; but half way down the steps we had quite as well wheel round behind the shaft, so as to give Mr W. the go by, in case he is looking about and has seen us up here already.”

“One more word before we separate, Mr F. Whom am I to have if you carry off the heiress?”

“You shall have that smart girl, Lucy, and a pub, close to Wedwell, with a handsome retiring allowance, and, if you get into Goodall’s workroom, mind you collar that manuscript of a ‘New Flying Machine,’ which is thought to be all rubbish—it may be useful to us—as well as other tit-bits.”

During the progress of this lofty chat, Mr Harry Goodall and Tom Trigger were still busy in letting up the net-work, so that the new balloon rapidly developed, and it was the opinion of everyone present that so symmetrical a balloon had not been seen at the palace for many years previously.

After some little time had elapsed, Miss Chain and her mother rather impulsively left the workroom. Soon after they had done so, a slight disturbance took place close to the North Tower, near to which Miss Chain and her mother were sauntering. Here a cry was raised that a thief was in custody. There were two or three policemen on duty near the balloon, Warner being one of them, and now Warner was seen to be bringing someone to the enclosure. He was a diminutive man, though stiffly built, and had been seen coming out of the engine-house, from which there was access by a disused back staircase to Mr Goodall’s room, where, of course, the prisoner had no business to be.

Tom Trigger, who about this time went into the workroom for the parachutes, noticed that the inner door had been forced open and left ajar.

Warner’s clothes showed that there must have been a tussle with his prisoner before he was brought to the aeronaut, who said to him,—

“What have you been doing, my man, and where do you come from?”

“My name is Eben, sir. I came with my master from Sussex, and I was looking about for him—he came to see the balloon, but I expect he has left for Tilbury, as he had to go that way this afternoon.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it,” said Harry Goodall, who did not think much of his offence. “Do you think you need detain him?” he added, turning to Warner.

“I must do that, sir. He will have to go before our inspector and the general manager, as he was inside the company’s private premises. Besides, I have reason to know he was in your room, too, Mr Goodall.”

“Someone has been there,” said Trigger, who had returned. “The inside door was open, a thing we’ve never seen before.”

In reply to a question as to the state of Warner’s clothes, the policeman said,—

“He is a downright Pocket Hercules, Mr Goodall—he floored me by his wonderful strength. I had been following him from the tower, where he had been for some time with a big, swell-looking chap, whom I have seen before, sir, though to-day he was got up in quite a different suit. They had been looking down from the balcony on your balloon store, and they came down together—the tall customer left, but this man went inside your workroom, I saw him there, after which he came out through the engine-house.”

Trigger then explained that he had seen them dodging about earlier in the morning.

“I thought they looked like two of the party at the lake, sir.”

“Nothing of the sort,” cried the prisoner. “My master is a rich gentleman, and we came up by the Brighton line.”

“You must get to the bottom of this elsewhere,” said Mr Goodall.

“I shall be glad, sir,” said Warner, “if you could spare Trigger for a short time to state what he saw.”

“If anybody swears he saw me inside the room,” cried the intruder, “he will be a confounded—”

“Hush, my man, I insist upon it, you will only aggravate your case,” said Harry Goodall, “and now that I get a closer look at your face, didn’t I see you and a tall, dark man a day or two since in Trafalgar Square?”

“No, sir, it must have been someone else, sir.”

“I am sure it was not—however,” said Mr Goodall, turning to Warner, “he can’t stay here any longer. Remove him.”

Whilst Miss Chain and her mother were walking round, keeping within call of the aeronaut in case they were wanted, they observed a figure which seemed familiar to them pass by as he hurried down the grounds. He had on spectacles and a profusion of sandy-looking hair, which they took to be a wig, for he closely resembled the “shadow man” in his gait and walk. And when a reversible-looking coat flew open, as he hastily sped along, Mrs Chain exclaimed,—

“Look at that cable-laid watch chain, dear! How very like your father’s!”

“I do believe it is,” said Miss Chain, as the man hurried onwards. “Surely he is Filcher who robbed us in Boulogne, anyway he is the ‘spy’—the one who has been tormenting us here.”

During the time that Trigger and Warner were absent at the police station, the amateur aeronaut had a few hasty words with Hawksworth, the so-called detective, who had deigned to listen to a part of the altercation, at a distance, between Warner and his prisoner. Hawksworth appeared to have been highly amused at the feeble attempt to find out something against this little fellow, who had not, he thought, from what little he had heard, done anything worth noticing, beyond mistaking his way while leaving the tower. This self-sufficient officer was of opinion that the paltry evidence elicited by Warner amounted to very little—there was no proof of his guilt.

“I really,” replied the aeronaut, “have no time or mind to enter just now upon a discussion as to detective theories. Warner, whose intelligence I am ready to support on a more suitable occasion, has taken this man in the act of having committed a trespass, and he is acting not upon ‘vague clues or roundabout rumours,’ but on stubborn facts. I believe that Warner knows perfectly well what he is about, and that the prisoner knows more about this tall confederate than you do probably.”

“Most likely, Mr Goodall,” replied Hawksworth, “for I merely caught a portion of what was said; you mentioned something about a second tall man, sir?”

“I cannot spare time to enlighten you any further, Mr Hawksworth.”

“But this silly, card-sharping looking lad merely said,” whispered the tall detective derisively, “that he came from Sussex—had he hailed from the other side of the world, sir, I should have opened my own eyes.”

“Yes, I have heard that you are expecting two clients from Australia; but we had better stop chatting, there are listeners near us, Mr Hawksworth.”

“You are right, sir, and I am wrong in interfering, perhaps. Kindly excuse me for having blundered.”

“I am afraid you have blundered,” cried Simon Warner, “if you think that little man is guileless, for he looked at you as if he knew you.”

“I am perfectly ignorant as to who he is, or what he is doing here!” exclaimed the detective.

“More’s the pity,” cried Warner, who then placed Croft, the Pocket Hercules, under proper care.

CHAPTER VI
AERONAUTICS

After Harry Goodall had finished his conversation with Hawksworth, he became very busy with the help of the gas men and the gardeners. The lower net-lines had been fixed to the hoop and the car, and then, when the balloon stood proudly erect, it presented a most magnificent specimen of the aeronautic art. Directly Trigger returned, and the filling had been completed, Mr Goodall began to inflate some small balloons, which were designed to provide an object lesson of some interest, besides showing what course the large balloon would take when set free.

It happened that on this occasion, which was considered a special and select affair, several of the directors and their friends were present, besides men of scientific knowledge, among whom was Mr Arthur Deck, of Cambridge, who has made so many aerial trips from a pure love and desire to encourage the advancement of ballooning. The last-named gentleman, as well as the directors, declared that they had never seen more interesting miniature balloons than those which were to precede the great ascent. There were only three of them on each frame, but they were of varied colours, having, as Mr Deck thought, rather a political signification, for they had each a crowned head and other devices on the centre belt, which, as the aeronaut pointed out, were symbolical of the Triple Alliance and of Union and Strength.

The three balloons were attached to the corners of a triangular frame of wood, which was well balanced by three lines connected to a central weight hanging beneath the frame.

Mr Goodall, in an unpretentious manner, went on to say that he would next show them another set of balloons. Three more of blue, primrose and green, and they would also be fixed fast to another triangular frame, but the devices on them would at once show that they represented the United Kingdom. Shortly afterwards, whilst casting them free into space, the aeronaut remarked,—

“We must keep an eye on them, for I cannot guarantee that they will remain united.”

This remark produced fresh curiosity.

However, they did hold together for a time, and by so doing, attained a great elevation, but at their culminating point a noise was heard and smoke was seen under the lovely-looking emerald balloon, which suddenly became disunited, much to the disturbance of the balance and power of the two firm and secure balloons. It was true, as a spectator said, that the green one shot up like a rocket, but equally true was it that she came down soon afterwards like a stick, in a very shaky and disorganised state, while the two staunch balloons remained fast friends and still held their own, notwithstanding the separation of the green balloon.

“And this illustration will show you,” said the aeronaut, “what may happen when—”

“Home Rule is passed,” cried a wiseacre close by.

However, the illustrations gave satisfaction, and produced a lively cheer without causing any ill-feeling, so that Tom Trigger was called upon next to bring forth the two parachutes, which gave rise to some sensational expectations, especially on the part of a bystander, who looked like a provincial balloonist, and who exclaimed, with a depreciatory laugh,—

“Oh! they are going to do a drop!”

“Are they?” said Trigger; “it will be with something hot then if they do.”

“What a pity,” remarked one of the directors, sotto voce; “that will spoil all.”

The parachutes, however, were attached to the netting of the large balloon—one on each side. Then Mr Brock, the pyrotechnist, came forward with his assistants and produced two hoops, on which a number of bombshells were fixed, and these petards gave rise to singular apprehensions, but the aeronaut explained as did the firework maker, that they would not prove risky according to the way in which Mr Goodall intended to employ them, as they could not explode until they and the parachutes were lowered a certain distance from the balloon, and even then a second precautionary measure would have to be resorted to before any explosion could take place. They were simply designed to illustrate the application of parachutes for warlike purposes, and were not intended for bringing down acrobatic balloonists in safety.

This lucid and unlooked-for explanation proved so far satisfactory, that the amateur aeronaut and his assistant took their places in the car, when the after arrangements were so carefully made that the liberation of the balloon was not attended by so much risk as the uninitiated expected. The ascent was grand in the extreme, and when the first parachute was detached, and it immediately spread out, all fear was lost in admiration, particularly when the first shell dropped about 200 feet and exploded with the sound of a twelve-pounder; then followed another shell, which burst at about 500 feet lower down, and after that a succession of discharges took place, illustrative of the manner in which naval or military forces could be harassed through the instrumentality of parachutes and bombs in conjunction with balloons, either with or without the personal aid of practical men in the car. And Mr Goodall further demonstrated, by the use of a second parachute, how the line of bombardment could be kept up, and how a number of comparatively small balloons could thus sustain a properly organised aerial attack, without any far-fetched pretensions of introducing navigable machines of foreign types, which would not act as designed perhaps. But, with those proposed, it would only be necessary to take up a suitable position on the windward side of a hostile force to apply with advantage such up-to-date contrivances which have not as yet been turned to an available account in the way set forth in these pages, for it is indisputable that “The Powers that be” are too often looking abroad for new lights and men with unpractical schemes, while they ignore experienced air-travellers at home, who could show them a more excellent method of using balloons and parachutes, even without waiting for navigable machines, which would admittedly facilitate such operations in mid-air if they could be depended upon to act in the way they have been promised to do by sanguine inventors. It must not be forgotten, however, that military aeronauts, in the pursuit of their speciality, could not rely upon grand expectations during the tug of war. At such a time, in an emergency, England would have to provide the right men in the right place, and to build only such contrivances as had been thoroughly tested.

When Harry Goodall’s balloon lost the weight of the parachutes and their appendages, it rose to a considerable elevation, exceeding 7000 feet from the earth, and here he was compelled to lessen his altitude, as the drift of the upper current was straight for the mouth of the river; but as he was not more than three miles in a direct line from the Crystal Palace, he determined at this distance to try his old preceptor’s idea of long-distance signalling, which he proceeded to do in the following way.

He had with him a smaller balloon which was not very much more than half inflated with air, effected by means of a fan. He had informed his friend, Mr Deck, before starting, that if he lowered this from a reel, which was fixed across the hoop to four times the length of the balloon and car, the signal would mean a distance of 250 feet, a second indication on the scale would imply 500 feet, and these relative heights would enable the spectators to form some idea of what the barometrical height really was; as the first signal, indicative of 250 feet, would be nearly equal to a quarter of an inch less pressure, and the 500 feet signal of the inverted air balloon would imply nearly half an inch of reduced pressure of air near the barometer. Thus this long-distance signalling, which the writer of these remarks first introduced at the Crystal Palace in the year 1880, would enable the spectators to form an approximate estimate of the height attained by the balloon, though previously no such intimation had ever been given from the explorers to those who were watching their ascent from below.

Another useful plan was adopted by the amateur aeronaut as he left the palace grounds. Upon being asked by a director present, if he would give the word to “let go,” so that all the men might do so at the same moment, he replied,—

“Certainly not. My plan is to detach the balloon at a favourable moment by this instrument which acts instantaneously as a liberator. It is the system adopted by the colleague of Mr James Glaisher, F.R.S., in the scientific ascents made over thirty years ago, and which the famous meteorologist so much approved of.”

Whilst Harry Goodall and his assistant were actively engaged up aloft, they had not much time to survey the surrounding country, although the counties of Surrey, Kent, Essex and Middlesex were very beautifully stretched out in a map-like form beneath them, for their course had to be narrowly watched owing to their proximity to Gravesend Long Reach and towards the Nore Lightship. Besides, it was not the aeronaut’s desire to make a prolonged trip, as, for one reason, he felt anxious about his property in the workroom, and for another he wanted to ascertain more as to what the man Eben had stolen, and whether he had been set free after Tom Trigger left the palace, or whether he was locked up for the night, for it was quite evident that his assistant had formed a very unfavourable opinion of him.

When the aeronaut found that, by a somewhat different undercurrent, his balloon was getting near to Northfleet Marsh, and that they were sinking fast, it became necessary to watch the course of a large, full-rigged vessel which was being towed up to one of the docks, and just as they were skimming over the ship, and Harry Goodall was wondering why the crew did not cheer, he suddenly drew in his head from looking over the car as if he had been shot, and said,—

“I have made a discovery, Trigger; we are right over the Neptune, my father’s ship from Sydney. See, there stands Captain Link with his cap in his hand, and there, too, on the poop, is my Uncle Goodall with his head down, apparently reading a letter.”

“Perhaps someone is dead on board, sir,” observed Trigger, with a serious look, just as they became enveloped in the black smoke of the tug, so that they saw no more of the vessel until they were over the sea-wall on the Essex banks of the river.

“My uncle told me,” said Harry Goodall, “that he was expecting the arrival of Captain Link, but I am awfully sorry to have passed right over the Neptune, as it looks like sheer defiance, knowing his dislike to ballooning. No wonder that my uncle held down his head, and that the crew were as silent as the grave.”

“I didn’t notice the flag, sir, if it was at half-mast; but I sha’n’t look back, as they say it is unlucky.”

“Then don’t do it, Tom; besides, can’t you see that the grapnel is near the ground. We may as well pull up on this Essex marsh so as to get close to the railway station over there, for I feel as if some disaster has taken place, or as if something were going to happen somehow. But tell me, Trigger, what is that glittering in your side pocket?”

“Only my revolver, sir. Things looked so queer this morning that I thought we ought to be prepared for squalls, and if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll pop some cartridges in the chambers, as there is no fear now of any bumping. Your presentiment just reminded me of it; anyhow there is no harm in being ready for any rough customers.”

By-and-by they saw that people were running in the course of the balloon.

“Sing out, Tom,” said Mr Goodall, “and tell that fellow who is spearing eels to mind the trail of the grapnel—there he stands close to that person with spectacles.”

“Spectacles, sir? Oh, yes, I see him; they’re standing clear now.”

“All right, Tom, the grapnel is fast. I’ll let off gas as quickly as possible, and, as there are several men coming up, suppose you jump out; I’ve crippled her sufficiently for you to do so with safety.”

“But mind you keep an eye, sir, on that party with spectacles. Don’t you see who he is like?”

“All right, Tom; I’ve no time to notice resemblances just now, but I’ll keep an eye on the fellow, anyway.”

The eel-catcher was taken into Trigger’s confidence, with a promise of reward if he stuck to him on one side of the balloon, by pulling down the netting to drive out the gas, while Mr Goodall and another lot of men were drawing down on the other side. Whilst the men were doing this, Mr Goodall held on to the valve line to more quickly let out the gas, but as he did so he crouched down behind the car, so that the man with spectacles did not see him. In the meantime Trigger had placed the crown valve on the shoulders of two men to admit of the gas escaping more readily, and then went to the eel-spearer to give fresh instructions. Now, whilst everybody was gazing intently at the balloon, the man with spectacles went a little way off, took off his glasses, turned his coat which was a reversible one, and then sauntered slowly back. When Mr Goodall, who was still crouched down, noticed that his coat was quite another colour, and that, in fact, the fellow looked like another person, he became still more watchful of his movements. The man then went towards the crown of the balloon as it lay on the ground, and when the silk was not more than a few feet above the grass, the aeronaut saw the fellow strike a match under the pretence of lighting a cigarette, and then throw it, all ablaze, over the valve. Immediately a long lambent flame shot up to a height of several feet, when Trigger sang out to his master, but Mr Goodall had, directly he saw the match lighted, with great presence of mind, let go the valve line, when the shutters of the valve closed with a resonant flap; thus the flame was fortunately extinguished. Had this step not been taken with the quickness of thought, the entire silk would have been destroyed, and most likely Mr Goodall would have been burnt and other lives endangered.

Tom Trigger immediately flew towards the valve, followed by the fisherman and Mr Goodall, but fortunately no harm had been done, beyond a singeing to the wooden framework. Had it not been held up, however, the silk would have been fired, but Mr Goodall’s prompt release of the cord brought the two shutters so close to the frame that the explosion was prevented in the very nick of time.

“Where is that spectacled chap?” asked the eel-catcher. “He told me an hour ago that he was looking for a balloon which would come this way.”

“There he goes!” cried Mr Goodall, who knew him by his altered appearance.

“He is making for the station,” cried the fisherman, “to catch that train coming in from Tilbury!”

“Let us go after him,” cried Trigger, who started with his master and the eel-spearer in pursuit. The man, however, kept well ahead, and Tom became so exasperated at the thought of his escape that he pulled out his pistol and let fly one after another each barrel, holding it well up to allow for distance.

“That is the spy, the shadow man,” cried Tom to his master. “I hope he is hit, sir.”

The result was uncertain, however, as he got into the station and just caught the train, so that when his pursuers came up they ascertained that he had to be pushed into a carriage because he seemed to be lame.

Thus foiled, the aeronauts returned to their work, and engaged a conveyance for the balloon, which was packed into the car and taken to the station, to go by the next train to Fenchurch Street.

On their way back to Sydenham they saw nothing whatever of the incendiary, who, they felt sure, was Eben’s master, and the same person who had been seen that day on the palace tower in disguise.

While in the train, Mr Goodall said to Trigger,—

“There is no doubt, Tom, but that I am beset by a deadly enemy who is trying to injure me, but what for I can’t imagine.”

“Jealousy, sir, depend upon it.”

“Of whom, or of what, Tom?”

“For your having saved that lady, sir.”

“Yes; but he must be actuated by something stronger than that, Trigger. From what my uncle said, he must be a person from Australia, who is said to have been in some way connected with my father in business matters. And now I think of it, that reminds me of a word or two that Hawksworth let drop while you were in the building with Warner.”

“There is no knowing, sir, what this spy fellow is up to, but we shall find out before long, I’ll be bound.”

“Anyhow, Tom, I shall never rest or give up ballooning, until we do cross his path once more.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, sir.”

“Yes, I am curious to know what has gone from the workroom—you recollect, Trigger, there were papers there about flying, which I have not thoroughly read yet; still, I should be sorry to lose them.”

“Do you refer to Professor Scudder’s writings, Mr Goodall?”

“Yes; though I daresay they are of an impracticable kind; at the same time, I should not like to find that they are in the hands of our enemies.”

CHAPTER VII
FINANCE AND FINESSE

As may have been gathered, Mr Falcon’s actions in first watching the movements of Harry Goodall and of Miss Chain at the Crystal Palace, and then of going to Wedwell to see Doctor Peters, were not so much actuated by a desire to give the former a distaste for ballooning, as to keep them away from Wedwell Hall, where the financier had been manœuvring to entrap Squire Dove, and at the same time to lay siege to the affections of his daughter. This kind of premeditated conduct was not in accordance with the terms of Mr Falcon’s mission, undertaken by him before he left Sydney—quite the reverse, indeed.

And whether the financier was irritated by the rising popularity of the amateur aeronaut at the Crystal Palace, and retaliated by advancing himself where Harry Goodall declined to step in, or whether Falcon was prompted by a preconceived idea of trying to get a large slice of the squire’s capital and entire possession of his daughter, the reader will be fully competent to judge.

If it be assumed that the financier set out on his enterprise with the idea of not bringing Henry Goodall’s son and Miss Dove together, but rather of stepping in himself to seek the fair lady’s hand and fortune, then, indeed, Mr Falcon’s eccentric conduct at the Crystal Palace and on the Essex marshes, is explained.

It would seem that at first Mr William Goodall was inclined to believe in him, while he gave such a pathetic account of the death of his brother Henry; but when that was ended, his flippant and ironical remarks caused the merchant to mistrust him. Squire Dove, on the other hand, was attracted by Mr Falcon’s monetary proposals, which were sufficiently business-like to be accepted; but it is needless to enter into details concerning them, as they may be supposed to have been ostensibly sound, otherwise the squire would not have caught at them so readily as he did by advancing a large sum in cash, and also by not declining the financier’s overtures with respect to Miss Dove, for after Mr Falcon’s successful start as regards his money scheme, he came to the conclusion that his amatory advances would be accepted both by father and daughter; he forgot, however, all about his cowardly conduct at the lake; but Miss Dove did not, and the squire told Mr Falcon candidly that his daughter was quite capable of exercising her own judgment with respect to matrimonial affairs, so that he must plead his own cause. The financier took the hint and used every means in his power to win Miss Dove’s favour.

One day, when the squire and Doctor Peters, the village doctor, were fishing, Mr Falcon, who was walking towards the pond with Miss Dove, said,—

“Whenever I look at those punts on the water I am reminded of that rash youth on the Crystal Palace lake who had the impudence to get into the water to help to raise you into the boat. I was most annoyed, Miss Dove, at his stupid officiousness. As far as I could make out, he was a performer—a Palace actor or something of that kind.”

“I feel sure,” said Miss Dove, looking very straight at Mr Falcon, “that he was a clever performer; but I was told at the Thicket Hotel that he was a scientific man and a successful one, too,” she added. “I certainly was vastly absorbed in his experiment.”

“Indeed! I may have been misinformed, but I quite understood that he was not a regular Palace balloonist, but a mere experimentalist. Would you like to know more about him, Miss Edith?” continued the financier.

“Don’t you think, Mr Falcon, that I could very easily do so, if I were so inclined?”

“No doubt, Miss Dove; but I hope and believe that you would prefer my acquaintanceship to his?”

“How very strangely you are talking this morning. I have no idea who or what that gentleman is, Mr Falcon, but I do hope to see him once more, so pray let us join my father and the doctor—and I beg you will not talk in this strain again.”

“Ah! Miss Dove, I shall venture to speak more plainly soon, in the hope that you will listen to me, for I—”

“Papa, dear,” cried Edith, as they drew near to the fishing party, who were resting whilst the gamekeeper arranged some fishing rods.

After this decisive check to the financier’s love-making, he strolled away and tried to enjoy a cigarette on the bank of the pond, while Edith joined her father and the doctor; and very glad she was of this opportunity of stopping the financier’s ungracious and distasteful proposal.

Presumably Mr Falcon’s great object was to get accepted as quickly as possible, lest some unforeseen circumstances should arise which might upset his schemes, such as a sudden change of mind and occupation on the part of Harry Goodall. Mr Falcon was, however, secretly prepared with another plan to prevent Goodall from visiting the Doves, and he intended to try it if he thought it probable that the aeronaut would give up ballooning as a step to an introduction to Wedwell Park. And the estate was worth fighting for—it was 300 acres in extent, well wooded, and with a grand old mansion in the centre, surrounded by ornamental gardens. Away towards the sea there was a good view of the South Downs—altogether it was a charming spot.

But Edith Dove was not so easily won. She studiously declined Mr Falcon’s attentions, although he was not a man to be easily repulsed, for he knew that in his case there was no time to be lost.

Mr Falcon had thus far managed to keep the name of Harry Goodall in the background, and, strange to say, Edith had never been known to fall in love, although her father and she had many friends, including county families and distinguished personages; but they neither of them cared much for entertaining mere fashionable callers, although given particularly to hospitality when men of science or women of celebrity and worth were concerned, even if they had risen from the more humble ranks of life.

The financier, though not a general favourite at Wedwell, found a warm supporter in Doctor Peters, who was the family medical attendant, and was thought by some to have been a former friend of Falcon’s, or a relative. But the doctor, who took instinctively to the financier was a crotchety, inquisitive old man, and wanted to find out where Falcon was born, and to dive into family matters, which he didn’t care to explain. Another reason why the doctor liked him was because, whilst in Sydney, he had helped and got into a good situation a scapegrace connection of the doctor’s.

Although the doctor and Squire Dove were so partial to fishing, the financier did not care much for it, as he was no sportsman. Indeed, he had admitted to the doctor that he was certainly not enamoured of shooting, as he had been shot himself very recently, by a rascally fellow who fired at him down in Essex.

Mr Falcon’s visit that day, to which we are alluding, was not only to pursue his attentions to Miss Dove, but also to privately consult his new friend the doctor, who could give him advice professionally, and might also expedite, if asked to do so, not only a forthcoming monetary transaction with the squire, but the doctor might advise him about introducing to the notice of the Doves his ideas relative to a flying machine.

When that great financial affair was satisfactorily concluded, Doctor Peters was a witness to the squire’s payment of cash, and to the signature of both to a deed, after which Mr Falcon went home with the doctor, as he wished to have a confidential chat with him.

At the outset of what was mutually considered a consultation, the financier briefly explained that he had been injured in the lumbar regions, which affected, as he thought, his spinal cord.

On examination, Doctor Peters, who played his part admirably so far as humouring the caprices of his patient went, found that the wound or bruise was not quite so dangerous as it appeared to be in his patient’s eyes, though it was not at all improbable, unless great care was exercised, that a touch of paralysis might supervene.

“But do tell me,” said the doctor, “how it happened.”

“I was strolling about on a marsh not far from Tilbury, awaiting the arrival of a vessel when she passed up the Thames. Just about the same time another and a lighter craft from a different part and a higher latitude,” he explained, enigmatically, “hove in sight. Then two men were landed, who looked like poachers—one was certainly a very reckless knight of the trigger, as he fired off a volley of charges in the direction I was taking. I then felt a thud in the back, like the kick of a horse, doctor.”

“Dear me! Very alarming, no doubt, Mr Falcon. I should say very likely your injury was caused by a spent shot, judging from appearances,” said the doctor, as he further examined the bruise. “Can you raise and bend both legs with perfect ease?”

“No—not—exactly.”

“Ah! I should say it was probably a bullet from a bull-dog pistol that overtook you, and I have no hesitation in saying that no mere dust shot would have produced such a concussion.”

“And yet, doctor, I escaped the rascal and managed to reach a station and to catch a train.”

“What a lucky escape to be sure!”

“It was; but I felt I was hit near the spine, and in the leg as well, for I began to limp as I do now.”

“Ay, we must get rid of that. Now, I’ll tell you what you must do. I shall provide you with ointment, pills, draught and what not, besides a little pick-me-up restorative, and then you must go to your hotel for a few days and rest, and you must get that smart, little valet of yours to rub your back and to look well after you.”

“But I can’t do that, for unfortunately Eben Croft is down himself and cannot get out. He is positively pining for my assistance. However, you must be good enough to accept this bank-note for your advice and these ample remedies. Now I wish to speak to you on another subject, and that, of course, will require another refresher in the way of a fee,” said Falcon, who evidently meant to ingratiate himself with Doctor Peters, and then turn him to account respecting more points than one.

“No, no,” cried the doctor, rejecting the further fee, “enough is as good as a feast.”

“You must oblige, doctor, for I feel that you are my best friend in these parts, and that you will advance my suit and prospects here as much as you can.”

“Pray say no more, Mr Falcon. After this assurance you may implicitly rely upon my giving you not only medical but friendly advice. In short, I feel myself, by some extraordinary fascinating power on your part, to be drawn to you, and I cannot forget that you did my relative a good turn in Sydney, and I shall consider it a duty to espouse your cause here, as long as I find it to be, as I do now, straight and honourable. But do tell me how goes it with Miss Edith? She is one of the purest and most unsophisticated creatures in the world, and you know her pecuniary value, I daresay,” said the doctor, with a chuckle.

“Yes, yes, I am pretty well versed on that point, for our lamented friend, Henry Goodall of Sydney, whom you have seen and talked to, I believe, acquainted me with everything concerning the Doves before I undertook to—”

“Before you undertook to court and carry off Miss Dove,” interrupted the doctor.

“I did not imply as much as that, doctor, for there was no understanding between us of that kind I assure you. However, you may assume that love has cropped up, on my side at anyrate, ever since my arrival.”

“I can very well understand your feelings, Mr Falcon.”

“Scarcely, I think—for mine have been an unthought of outburst of admiration, and I may say, of affection, for Miss Dove—which—”

“My dear sir, is it worth while to analyse all our secret springs of action, as you and I seem to grasp them by a sort of intuition, which is common to both of us, I should say?”

“Good, and altogether far-seeing of you, doctor! And I quite agree with you, but still I am not carrying the position in such a dashing style as I expected. Of course, you know that the squire, so far as he is concerned, approves of my open and honourable conduct?”

“He could not fail to do that, Mr Falcon; but why are you rubbing your eyes so vigorously?”

“Eh! was I? I am not piping my eye for fear of failure, if that is what you are inferring, doctor. The fact is my sight has been unduly tried lately. I took to spectacles for a short spell.”

“More’s the pity. Just let me look into your eyes, Mr Falcon.”

“Do, doctor.”

“Your eyes are as sound as your heart, my dear sir.”

“Nothing wrong there, you think?”

“Not that I can detect at present; but mind that you never let Edith Dove see you with blinkers on.”

“Leave me alone for that. Those I wore on trial proved dangerous.”

“Really—you are a young man and ought not to have tried them.”

“A young man, eh? I was just thinking of my young man Croft, and that I must be going; but stay—I think I heard a rap at your front door.”

“Perhaps so, I’ll inquire. Now Maria, what is it?” asked the doctor of a neat little servant.

“If you please, sir, the gentleman is wanted.”

“I really cannot stay to see anyone,” said Mr Falcon.

“What name was given, Maria?” asked the doctor.

“Warner, sir.”

“I’ve heard that name,” said Mr Falcon, who motioned to his friend to shut the door—“but perhaps you would kindly see him for me, doctor?”

“Look here, Maria,” said the doctor in a more subdued tone, “was my patient asked for?”

“No, sir; the man only said he called respecting Eben Croft.”

“Confound him!” muttered Falcon. “I am not angry with you, Maria,” he said, turning to the girl, who looked rather scared; “here is half-a-crown for you. I am annoyed by the intrusion just as I was in conversation with your master.”

“I didn’t say who was upstairs, sir.”

“Quite right, Maria,” said the doctor. “Suppose you keep Mr Warner waiting for a few minutes, and then show him up.”

“Very good, sir,” said Maria.

“And where am I to disappear to, doctor?” anxiously asked his patient.

“Step into my skeleton case, Mr Falcon, if you are not too squeamish. It’s quite empty, as the tenant’s bones were removed last week for fresh articulation; they were dropping all to pieces.”

“All right! Here’s in, anyhow, and if I scratch my finger-nail gently on the inside of the door, you will know that you are saying what I don’t like; but as long as I keep quiet you can go ahead, doctor; you understand?”

“Thoroughly. I have unlimited discretionary power unless you scratch with your finger-nail.”

Doctor Peters having almost closed the door of case, and hearing footsteps, cried out,—

“Come in, Mr Warner, I am at your service.”

“I must ask your pardon for intruding, doctor. I was directed to your house, but I’m afraid it is a wild-goose chase, as I merely want to see a gentleman I fancy I have met before; but as he seems to have disappeared, I suppose I must tell you that a young man named Eben, or Ebenezer Croft, has referred me to his master, who was said to be on a visit at Wedwell Park. This man Croft has got into trouble, sir, and will have to go before a magistrate.”

“What for, pray?”

“For trespassing on the company’s private premises at the Crystal Palace, sir.”

“What a paltry charge, Mr Warner! I may possibly mention the case to Squire Dove, who is a Justice of the Peace, and acquainted, I know, with some of the most influential directors and shareholders of the palace. The squire will no doubt see that the case is thoroughly looked into, even if it comes to an exposure in the Times. Yes, sir,” continued the doctor, “this farcical seizure of poor little Croft, who is a gentleman’s servant, will no doubt make a great stir and keep people from visiting the palace, lest they step accidently from public to private rooms, which most likely join each other.”

“Something more will come out about the premises that have been entered,” said Warner, “as they belong to a scientific gentleman, whose friends are, I believe, acquainted with Squire Dove.” (A loudish scratch).

“May be, Mr Warner; Croft has only committed a pardonable mistake—but if bail is required it will be forthcoming.” (A whisper from the case, “Shut up!”)

“The truth is, Doctor Peters, that Croft is locked up, and he fears that his master is in the same predicament.”

“My good man, what nonsense!” cried the doctor.

“Nonsense you may think it. However, I am merely doing my duty in making inquiries; but don’t you suppose that I am a fool, sir.”

“You are far from that, I’m sure; but allow me, Warner, to present you with this,” replied the doctor, putting his finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket.

“No, thank you, sir; I am neither to be bought, sold nor humbugged, and I’ll wish you good-day;” and the man took up his hat and departed angrily.

Whilst Warner was walking away down a bye lane, he met a good-natured looking young person, whose face seemed familiar to him.

“What, Lucy!” he exclaimed; “is that you, miss? How pleased I am to see you.”

“Yes, Lucy is my name, it’s true; but surely I have seen you at the Crystal Palace?”

“Certainly you have—at Mr Goodall’s workroom, when I was chatting with Tom Trigger after Miss Chain had been frightened by that spy who is not so very far off, unless I’m much mistaken, Miss Lucy.”

“Oh, do come into the gamekeeper’s cottage with me; I am going to see Bennet.”

“Ay, come in and welcome,” said the gamekeeper, who was standing at his garden gate. “Did I hear you say that you know Tom Trigger?”

“Yes, I know Tom, and like him very much.”

“So do I,” replied the gamekeeper, “and I found him a good shot, too, when he came down with Lucy.”

“Nothing amiss with Tom?” asked Lucy, earnestly.

“Oh dear no, and never will be, my dear,” said Warner. “Don’t you fear. It is that little audacious chap Croft I came about.”

“Are you going back by the next or the last train?” asked Bennet.

“By the next; I must if possible,” replied Warner.

“Then make haste, missus,” said Bennet, turning to his wife, “and get us a cup of tea. I’m going over to the station and will give you a lift,” he said to Warner, “and we can go on with our chat on the road.”

The snug little tea-party had barely sat down when Mrs Bennet heard a knock at the door, and then in came Saunders, the cook, from the house, who had been sent down by Miss Dove with her customary basket of odds and ends, but she did not know that Lucy and a stranger were there.

When Saunders was introduced to Warner, she exclaimed,—

“Bless me, I ought to know that name; and now I look at you— But don’t you know me, Simon?”

“Why, goodness me! it’s surely never Miss Saunders?”

“The same, sir, as I was when I knew you in Sydenham. You thought at that time of entering the force.”

“Yes; and so I did. How glad I am to see you again.”

After some further chatting over old times, Saunders remembered the dinner she had to cook, and rose to leave.

“It’s about time we were moving too,” said Bennet to Warner, “that is, if you must catch the next train.”

“Yes, I really must,” said Warner, getting up and shaking hands with them all and saying that he hoped to pay them another visit some day.

“Give my love to Tom,” cried Lucy to Warner, as he jumped up beside Bennet in the cart, “and tell him to try and come and see me soon again,” she added, as they disappeared down the lane.

CHAPTER VIII
MR FALCON ON FLIGHT

While the financier was considering whether he should leave Doctor Peters at once or wait, so as to avoid getting in contact with Warner, it occurred to him that he might stay a while and sound his adviser as to the other scheme he had been thinking about ever since Eben Croft purloined from Mr Goodall’s workroom a treatise on “Flight” by Professor Scudder.

The possession of this manuscript by Mr Falcon, induced him to decide upon utilising the suggestions therein contained, for he had not forgotten the discomfiture he met with on the Crystal Palace lake, and he longed for an opportunity of surpassing the air-ship performance of Harry Goodall, which made such a favourable impression on Miss Dove before the amateur aeronaut rescued her from a watery grave. Thus animated with entirely new notions, the financier requested Doctor Peters to listen while he explained a scheme by which he hoped further to raise himself in the estimation of Squire Dove and his daughter.

The doctor at first felt disinclined to devote any time and attention to the affairs of his visitor, and he was on the point of saying “Shut up” (as Mr Falcon had done when he whispered from the skeleton case). The doctor, however, still mindful of the financier’s liberal fees, consented to hear what he had to say, but begged that Mr Falcon would be concise, as he was not disposed to go into scientific arguments or a lengthy preamble, nor could he listen to profound calculations. “For you must not forget, Mr Falcon,” he said, “that in Surgery and Pathology we dislike complications,” and he knew that figures could be easily made to embarrass the uninitiated and to deceive scientists as well. “So do unfold your wings, tail and what not with simplicity of diction.”

“You may rely on my doing that, doctor, but first let me inform you that I have not long since visited a noted tower in which a valuable work on flying was deposited, and it was there that my servant Eben Croft dropped into the storeroom, where he picked up a rare and original manuscript on ‘Flight,’ by Professor Scudder.”

“And this, I suppose, Mr Falcon, has taken a firm hold of your mind?”

“Exactly, doctor—after I had obtained a firm hold of the book. Then I went deeply into the subject, but I had thought about the matter previously.”

“Indeed, Mr Falcon, I was not aware of that. Maybe it was after you had studied and appropriated some of Scudder’s notions?”

“Mind, Peters, what you are insinuating.”

“Quite so! I merely say and mean that you, as a man of action, felt called upon to give life, energy and force to Scudder’s proposals, having most likely modified and improved his early conceptions.”

“Well, there’s something in the way you now put it, doctor, for it is unquestionable that my own views present a more attractive programme, if I may use the term, than Scudder’s did.”

“And who the dickens is Scudder, pray?”

“Scudder himself hails from Holland.”

“Ay, he is the veritable Flying Dutchman, no doubt; but is he a man of aeronautical experience, Mr Falcon?”

“Not so much as I am, doctor.”

“Indeed! Where have you matriculated?”

“I have devoted considerable attention to the movements and acts of a clever balloonist.”

“What! you have, Mr Falcon?”

“Yes, but that is strictly confidential, and I want it to go no further, please.”

“Say no more, Mr Falcon, on that head, but at once propound your theory, for I am curious to hear why you have two strings to your bow.”

“Eh? What is that you say about my bow?”

“I was adverting to your contemplating ‘Flight,’ while you have so great an attractive power in Miss Dove. Couldn’t you remain within the sphere of her influence?”

“Of course I could; but aren’t you a bit wandering yourself, doctor? You spoke of my having two strings to my bow.”

“What I meant was, that as a financial suitor you pose well, but as a flying man you would not, I think, appear to advantage.”

“Would it surprise you to hear, doctor, that Miss Dove has a taste for aerial exploration?”

“Oh, nonsense, my dear sir. Surely I ought to know more about that than you. However, tell me more of your flying machine ideas.”

“You must know then, doctor, that the main-spring of it consists of a huge steel bow, and I thought you might have heard something of this when you alluded to my having two strings to my bow.”

“No; I have heard nothing whatever of your plans, but never mind about the two strings, Mr Falcon, so that you stick to one bow.”

“You may be sure I shall do that, for it is by this power I shall be able to ascend.”

“What do you mean, Mr Falcon?”

“To be more explicit, doctor, I shall first pass into space through the instrumentality of an enormous cross-bow.”

“Then you will be the arrow?”

“Yes, and will face the inevitable like a bird.”

“Ay, like a Falcon, you might have said.”

“Mind, doctor, what use you make of an unsullied name.”

“I shall do it no harm if you don’t yourself, sir; but say what you like, Mr Falcon, I don’t believe you will ever fly unless you have a limb of the law at your heels.”

“Your candid opinion is not very encouraging, doctor, but it will not discourage me from enlightening your darkness.”

“Yes, I want more light as to your flighty ideas, for I am no air explorer and have never even been up the City Monument, or the Crystal Palace towers. Have you, Mr Falcon?”

“Many a time and oft, doctor. Why, it was at the palace tower where I came across Scudder’s book.”

“Was it really? Do go on then, though I fear this flying fad will bewilder you before you chuck it up.”

“Hear me out, doctor.”

“By all means, for I fail to see how you are going to do it.”

“I am not going to imitate the tactics of previous sky soarers, but I do hold with Scudder as to a good dashing start.”

“You won’t dash into a horse pond, a limekiln, or a railway train, I trust.”

“No fear, doctor. With my first spring I shall be hurled clear of all such impediments.”

“You say hurled, Mr Falcon. Why, you almost take my breath away.”

“That is because you lack imagination, doctor, or you would picture to yourself my contrivance in full swing on the lawn in front of Wedwell Hall.”

“God forbid that I should witness such a scene!”

“Simply because you fail, Peters, to see in your mind’s eye the merit of the invention. Can’t you imagine an enormous cross-bow, with two large grooves in the stock for the air-ship to slide up when the bow is bent and the trigger pulled?”

“No, I don’t see it.”

“You will presently when I further explain that these grooves will be three feet apart, and that the car or sledge of the air-craft will slide up these grooves, as two half round pieces of wood will be fastened at the bottom of the sledge. Of course the wire cord of the great steel bow will be drawn down and fixed behind the air machine before the trigger is pulled.”

“And how long after this bit of trigger-nometry do you expect to be alive, man?”

“Oh, that will be all right; you will see soon how the thing will work.”

“Never, I fear.”

“Well, I’ll try to make you, anyhow; and don’t forget, doctor, that the craft or cruiser (call it which you like) will narrow at the stem.”

“What for, Mr Falcon?”

“What for? Why, to cleave the air like a thing of life, so that when the wings are opened out by touching a lever then the pace will be prodigious, though, at first, the machine will have the wings closed up like the arms of a diver before he springs, but once away I should go clean over Wedwell Park.”

“Yes, yes, provided you got over the squire and the Hall.”

“Hear me out, doctor, while I tell you that the great cross-bow stock will be raised on blocks to an angle of 25 degrees, in order that my first leap into space should shoot me clear of the housetops until my wings opened for practical work.”

“Why, man, you would go like a projectile, and, to my thinking, you would be launched into eternity.”

“Should I really. You’re wrong there, Peters; only think how divers sometimes drop from great heights and then turn up safely like corks.”

“But your turn up, Mr Falcon, according to your own account, would last for more than a few seconds, and in that time your senses (or what was left of them) would be whisked out of you in a jiffy.”

“You forget, doctor, that when I reached the park boundaries I should slow down a bit and bring into use my motive power, for without that, I should drop by the run.”

“Just like De Groof did, Mr Falcon, when he was killed at Chelsea over twenty years ago.”

“That poor man was not kept moving on. He wanted propelling, or some other force, as I shall employ.”

“You don’t mean police force, possibly?”

“No, something stronger than that, or electricity either.”

“Compressed air, perhaps?”

“You must excuse me stating my power, doctor, for to a man of your sensitive nature it might sound alarming.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mr Falcon lifted his hand and struck the table so violently that he made a wine glass jump until it fell and was smashed on the carpet. He then said without the least apology,—

“My driving power, doctor, will be worked by an explosive!”

“An explosive! I hope it won’t blow you to atoms like the pieces of glass around us.”

“No fear, Peters; I am free, however, to admit that a succession of explosions will produce a rocket-like movement. But you will excuse me, won’t you, for not naming the chemical compound employed?”

“Don’t you worry about that, Mr Falcon. I am quite convinced as to the violent nature of it, and I won’t press you for a further exposition of your new motive power; indeed, I perceive that, at the outset, you will go up (unless you funk it) like a live military shell or rocket. Secondly, that you will have folding wings to your craft; and thirdly, that by the aid of explosive materials, you will set these in motion, so that you can flap, sail, whirl or swoop.”

“Never mind the swooping, doctor; that might be resorted to in a desperate emergency.”

“Yes, in the last scene of a closing act, I guess.”

“Don’t you be so jocular and ironical, doctor. You have done me one good turn, and I want you to do another by taking this fresh matter up warmly, and further by introducing it to the Doves.”

“Not I, Mr Falcon. For my part I shall drop it from this moment like a hot cinder, and I strongly recommend you to do the same, and to concentrate your attentions on Miss Dove simply as a financial projector rather than as a man of flight.”

“Well, I do believe, doctor, that you advise me as a true friend, and I will not attempt even a preliminary canter in the park before I have tried an experiment elsewhere.”

“Don’t try to fly, but go at once to Sydenham, Mr Falcon, and see that Eben Croft is set free from durance vile.”

“A bright idea, doctor, and a very suggestive one, too; and, for your concluding hint, I thank you very much, and I promise faithfully to turn it to account.”

CHAPTER IX
A FLIGHTY FIASCO

After following the advice of Doctor Peters by liberating Eben Croft, Mr Falcon determined that he would forthwith turn him to another useful account, as the financier had decided to test Scudder’s scheme if the Pocket Hercules would assist him to do so,—though, in consideration of the objections raised by his adviser Peters, Mr Falcon thought it would be quite as well if he abstained himself from going aloft, should Croft agree to do so and assume the Dutchman’s name.

An immediate proposal was therefore made to Professor Scudder, who soon replied favourably from Rotterdam, in fact he consented to sell his stolen manuscript and invention for the round sum down of one hundred pounds sterling, and these terms, having been arranged, Eben Croft was duly informed that there was one more chance open to him if he really wished to hand down his name to posterity, after which he could see about settling in his promised “pub” near Wedwell Park, but not until his master had united himself in the bonds of matrimony to the squire’s daughter.

Eben having agreed, Falcon promised to remunerate him handsomely if he would assume the rôle of Scudder and make the first trial of the flying machine (of course in disguise, so that no one would know him). As to Mr Falcon, he would pose as a distinguished Dutch director, and would arrange everything at some quiet place where the experiment could come off under the strictest privacy; but the chosen spot would not have to be very far from Wedwell Park in case the wind happened to waft the aerial cruiser that way,—in which case Mr Falcon might like himself to make the flight personally,—but that would not interfere with the stipulated payment to Eben Croft. The entire apparatus, including Scudder’s giant cross-bow, was very soon the property of the flying financier, but, unfortunately, there was a debt on it of fifty ducats,—which had to be cleared off before the contrivance was despatched from Rotterdam.

A suitable place at Haywards Heath was at length hired by the financier, and the flying machine, with cross-bow, appurtenances and propellers, were to be sent by goods train to the Sussex Station, where, in expectation of their arrival, Mr Falcon and Eben Croft duly presented themselves in costume that would defy detection.

A number of workmen, under the superintendence of a master carpenter, had been engaged at the quiet retreat selected, which, by the way, was not far from the lunatic asylum in the neighbourhood of Haywards Heath, when Croft, in a semi-clerical attire, assisted his master to make the preliminary arrangements;—then Eben said,—

“Where shall I find the tackle, sir?”

“At the Haywards Heath Goods Station, Eben.”

“Is it to be a public or private affair?”

“As secret and secluded as possible. Not a soul must know who or what I am aiming at, Croft, for this flying machine is to go into Wedwell Park if you can so manage it, and if I were certain about its doing so I might occupy the seat of honour myself.”

“Where is Wedwell, sir, from our present standpoint?”

“Yonder; but keep everything dark, Eben. We must say as little as we can, and that in broken English, with a strong Dutch accent. Do you understand?”

“Yah, yah, mynheer; but some of your helps are coming. I had better get to work directly the boss gets here with the traps.”

“You have seen, Eben, all Scudder’s sketches and know the plan of the invention. Say as little as need be, and make the most of the time present.”

“Yes, for it would never do, sir, for Jack Hawksworth or Simon Warner to catch us at this job.”

“No, Eben, nor for Doctor Peters or the squire to cast eyes upon us.”

“They wouldn’t know us, I’m thinking, Mr F.”

“The doctor might recognise and denounce the contrivance. That is why I have drawn you aside to speak in confidence, and to say, ‘Hurry on; get the job over and let us clear out with all speed.’”

Before the experimentalists had taken up their position in the small grounds which had been hired for the occasion, Mr Falcon had given out that two foreigners were about to try a new projectile, and as an explosive machine would be employed, no spectators would be admitted near the apparatus nor inside the premises on any pretext whatsoever; neither would admittance to the enclosed retreat be allowed even on payment of gate money.

But no sooner had the proceedings got fairly forward and the large steel bow and stock appeared in the distance, than the outsiders conjectured that the foreign visitors were certainly about to try the working of a new sort of guillotine for the beheading of anarchists and other criminals. The ominous sounds that had been heard by carpenters and the workmen encouraged this conclusion, and when the twisted wire of the bow was strained tight behind the air-craft, and it was made to perform a preliminary move up and down the two grooves in the bow-stock, then many persons broke into the grounds, much to the annoyance of the tall, distinguished-looking Dutchman who was at work conjointly with a London firework manufacturer, both of whom were in the act of charging a double-barrelled explosive machine—this was intended to act as an additional motor power to the professor’s aerial cruise after the first spring into the air, produced by the cross-bow, had ceased to act.

Eben Croft, who was supposed by all present, with the exception of his principal, Mr Falcon, to be the redoubtable Scudder, was well to the fore, and had fearlessly mounted the seat of the air-ship, when he was asked by one of the local magnates if he required any assistance.

Thereupon, the supposed Scudder, who seemed reluctant to air his Dutch or broken English, pointed towards his chief and tried to catch his attention, but the crowd had so surrounded Mr Falcon, that the attentive interrogator asked if the professor was wanting the Dutch gentleman with the long black beard.

“Yah, yah, mynheer,” replied Eben. “Vil you tell de herr dat I vant mine propellers?”

“Come on, Herr What’s-your-name,” cried the master carpenter to Falcon, not knowing his name—when suddenly and unexpectedly a terrific explosion took place, which hurled Mr Falcon, the firework maker and others into an adjacent pond, into which the burly Dutchman went head foremost and lost his big beard and curly locks; in fact his hairy adornments were floating on the water, and had he been the sole sufferer there would have been a scene of laughter as well as of commotion, but several townsmen and strangers were injured besides the dark, stout fellow (Falcon), who, on being dragged on to land, seemed strangely transmogrified until some kind friend re-adjusted him, when he appeared to have lost his head, for he sung out to the professor in clear English,—

“For Heaven’s sake, Eben, get your power and start at once. Your wings are attached, and you’ve an open country before you. Make a short spin at all risks.”

“Pull that trigger, master carpenter,” cried the supposed Scudder, in downright, plain, unbroken English.

The carpenter and all the people within earshot were bewildered, and thought they were going to be hoaxed, but up rushed the wild, half-crazy Falcon and pulled furiously at the line, when away went Scudder like a bolt out of a forty-pounder, his hat and coat-tails flying behind him; but he had the presence of mind to let loose, by touching a lever, his wings, which flew open in time to give him a check just as he turned downwards, for all the world as if he were making for the lunatic asylum.

“He’ll pitch into yonder trees, mark my word if he doesn’t,” cried Falcon, as if that curve was designed to be the extent of his voyage.

“Ah, he’s a dead man,” cried the master carpenter, “though a pluct ’un, and no mistake!”

“Yes, there he goes into that clump of lofty trees like a heron to his nest,” said a workman.

“On to his rescue, men,” cried some gentlemen of position. Then the grounds were soon vacated after the professor had smashed through the upper leaves and broken the framework of his wings.

Falcon noticed that he held up his arms and waved them as a signal of safety, but some of the bystanders protested that he was knocked all to pieces, a result which Falcon and the master carpenter disbelieved, seeing that he took the tree tops as if it was the only suitable place upon which to alight, in order to save himself and the air-ship, though Eben’s master could see that it was by extraordinary good luck he did not dash into the asylum yard, which was not very far off, and which might have killed him outright.

Scudder, who had well enacted his part, was so embedded in the leaves and boughs, that ladders had to be procured before any assistance could be rendered, but as the foreman of the carpenters ran back to say that Scudder was not killed, only scratched a bit, Mr Falcon affected to feel somewhat restored, though he was quite unable to go with the mob to see about Scudder’s landing.

“Still,” said Falcon to the master carpenter, “I must return immediately to London and report the success of the first flight under such extreme disadvantages.”

“And are you,” said the tradesman, “going to take to flight yourself? Who then is to settle up with me?”

“I will,” cried Falcon, “as soon as you like; that is, if you will help us to get away by the next train.”

“I’m afraid you won’t do that, but there is one due in an hour and a half. At the same time, if you will go to my house and dry your clothes and settle the little account, my foreman shall see about your Professor Scudder, as you call him, and very aptly so, too, I think.”

Mr Falcon, finding that the master carpenter was resolved to stick to him, and that his foreman was instructed by signs and whispers not to lose sight of the little man, requested that Eben’s hat be restored to him with his other garments, which were picked up and found to be quite safe. Then Herr What’s-his-name, or, in plainer and more direct terms, Mr Falcon, saw the policy of assenting to all that had been proposed, and was truly glad to think that he would have so good a chance of leaving before any interference on the part of the local authorities or police had been ordered.

“Mind you,” added his counsellor, “if you want to avoid being questioned and perhaps detained for attempted homicide, or anything that might lead to further inquiry, you take my advice and leave by the next train.”

Seeing what a fix they might soon get in, Mr Falcon forthwith went to the master carpenter’s house, changed and dried his clothes, paid his bill, arranged that Eben Croft was to be brought to him from where he was and then the financier made fresh terms for getting all his traps together and paid for their carriage up to goodness knows where, no matter what state they might be in, and if the carpenter and his foreman would undertake to dispatch them with expedition, Falcon would pay extra, and handsomely, too.

This business-like offer had the desired effect, every man employed worked with a will. The tackle, much shattered, was taken down in a van. Scudder had his scratches and wounds seen to, and they just cleared out from the railway station when one or two plain clothes officers began inquiring about the health and residence of the foreigners, but the train was in motion, and the flying financier and his confederate were off before they were formally interviewed by the police, who rather winked at their escape, as they had caused no end of stir and amusement even among the demented sightseers, one of whom thought that the crazy man of flight was about to join them, as he was himself seemingly under the influence of a lunar complaint.

CHAPTER X
CAPTAIN LINK’S APPEARANCE

While Mr Falcon had been scheming in Sussex, Harry Goodall, on returning to the Crystal Palace, found that as his first ascent had proved such a great success, he would immediately try to guard against public gossip respecting the diabolical attempt which had been made to damage his balloon, in case the palace authorities might be induced to stop any further experiments.

Unquestionably, the erratic visits of the mysterious spy and his little satellite showed that the delinquent on the Essex marsh, the “shadow man” and the man on the North Tower with Eben Croft, were one and the same. The aeronaut felt sure that if these men were seen to be dogging his footsteps, the palace directors would not feel disposed to allow another aerial trip.

Tom Trigger and his master had well considered what had taken place, and Miss Chain and her mother were duly cautioned against alluding to the suspicious strangers, and were also requested not to tell Hawksworth the detective anything that had taken place.

On thinking over the matter, it then had occurred to Trigger that he had seen someone very like Ebenezer Croft at the place where Lucy was in service, and he had mentioned this to Warner, who was sent down by the palace police inspector to pick up what information he could at Wedwell Park, the results of which were given in Chapter VII., and which led to the discharge of Croft as a matter of expediency; so that, notwithstanding the disparaging remarks of Hawksworth, Warner had obtained something like a clue or two and had turned them to a good account, after he left Wedwell.

On Harry Goodall’s next visit to the Crystal Palace, it was found that little damage had been done to the workroom stores, beyond the theft of a paper on “Flight.” This trifling plunder was doubtless owing to Warner’s watchfulness, who, in his quiet, unpretending manner was always on the alert.

There being nothing, therefore, to prevent the making of a second ascent, the aeronaut was determined to proceed with it forthwith, so that not more than a fortnight elapsed before the balloon was again brought out for inflation; and as the former trial trip had created such general admiration, the manager quite regretted that these aerial exploitings were to be made without public announcement. There was, however, no moving the amateur from his decision. He had so little of the showman in his composition that he did not care for spectators of his skill, though he was ready to study the gratification of those who honoured him with their presence, and this he considered to be a proper return for the advantages afforded him at such an admirable spot for ballooning, as the palace proved to be.

While preparations were being made in the glass-room, a gentleman presented himself, not a “shadow man” or Tower sneak this time, but a welcome guest. He was no other than Captain Link, who had seen his young friend’s balloon when it passed over the Neptune as she was going up the Thames, and who now came to have a chat with Harry, not only on his own account, but as the representative of Mr William Goodall, who believed that the straightforward, outspoken seaman would do more to convert his nephew than the Quixotic performances of Mr Falcon, of whom the merchant had formed an unfavourable opinion.

Captain Link suggested that whilst Tom Trigger and a gang of the palace gardeners were making arrangements for the filling, that he and Harry should take a turn round the gardens, and have a cigar together.

“I want to know, Link,” said the delighted aeronaut, “if my uncle saw the balloon as we crossed your mast heads?”

“Of course he did, long before you recognised us, which I suppose you did; but he was depressed about a matter which has been troubling us, and just as the tug’s black smoke rose up to you, I gave him a letter to read which I had in my pocket, and it brightened him up considerably. However, I was requested not to say anything to you about family matters. Your uncle said that I was to be strictly silent on that point, for he felt sure that nothing I could say would stop you from accomplishing whatever you had engaged to do, so for to-day, Harry, we won’t allude to anything but your favourite ballooning, please, and your proposed companions, of whom I am curious to hear something, if you have no objection. I was told before I spoke to you that you were going to ascend this afternoon.”

“Yes; stay and join me, Link.”

“What do you mean, Harry?”

“Well, join me at luncheon and see me off; I shall rely upon your doing that much, at anyrate, and perhaps more, eh?”

“Very pleased, but I must tell you candidly that your uncle is still dead set against ballooning; however, he thinks that you should not break faith here with the palace people, although he did ask me to try and persuade you not to continue your ascents after to-day, as a Mr Falcon is making a mess of his mission to you.”

“I was not aware that anyone had been here in the character of a missionary. The only persons I have noticed are two downright scoundrels who have been hanging about and haunting me, if I may use the expression, and not only me, but also Miss Chain and her mother, two ladies who are assisting me in my work, and who are really above this kind of thing. You noticed Miss Chain, probably?”

“Do you mean that demure and lady-like girl I saw at needlework, sitting near that smart-looking man?”

“Yes, I do, Link; but I must give him the cold shoulder, as he is becoming a nuisance, and is a detective, I hear. The Chains are most industrious, but were robbed of all they possessed by an unprincipled financier.”

“What a shame! If this young lady is a sample of your employees, I am agreeably surprised, Harry, for they were described to your uncle as being very different kind of people to this specimen I happen to have seen. Couldn’t something be done for such a lady-like girl?”

“I have been thinking on that point myself; the poor girl has been terribly bothered by an inquisitive fellow, who has made himself most obnoxious. By the way, he is a fine, aristocratic-looking man, not unlike you in build, Link, but he has such an evil expression of face, whilst you have a good one—but I must not flatter you.”

“No, pray don’t descend to that, Goodall.”

“Situated, however, as I am, Link, I cannot very well raise a complaint here to the manager, but I am all ready for the fellow if he should show up again, and we fortunately have an obliging but humble-minded policeman on the lookout. I don’t mean that fussy, amateurish detective, but a quiet, practical man, who has already made an example of one fellow. His name is Warner, and look here, Link, if you can find an opportunity of having a word or two with the Chains, I should appreciate the attention, as they have been so much traduced to my Uncle Goodall.”

“All right, Harry, and I have made up my mind to stay and see who goes up, as I should like to be able to speak as I find of your associates.”

“As to those going up—Miss Chain will accompany me for one, and my assistant, Trigger. I promised the young lady a trip for her indefatigable work and general assistance.”

“Don’t tell me any more of this prodigy, Harry. Remember that I am a bachelor and a sailor,” said the captain, laughing heartily.

“I don’t forget that, old friend, but I want you to know that Miss Chain is a much-maligned young lady; she and her mother were in a state of downright want when Tom Trigger introduced them to me.”

“And you will never regret having done them a good turn, and now that I am reminded of your sterling qualities, Harry, I really must tell you something your uncle asked me last evening. He wanted to know if I could bring you to think more about commercial and matrimonial affairs.”

“Oh, yes, I know very well what he and my father want me to do, but I don’t see it at present.”

“I told him that I didn’t much care about speaking to you on such subjects, and that I was more likely to be converted by you, as I had always had a desire to go up in a balloon.”

“And what did my uncle say to that, Link?”

“He said he didn’t mind what I did, even if I took you to sea with me, so long as I led you out of the way of ballooning.”

“And suppose that I lead you away into the upper regions over land and sea, what would my uncle say then?”

“Why, I should lose my character and my ship, too, very likely,” replied Link, with consternation plainly written on his face.

“Not you, captain; you’ve too much mettle in you to be cast aside for preaching to me in cloudland.”

“By Jove! I never thought of that idea, Harry—I mean as a reason for going up.”

“How do you know, Link, what experiment I am going to try this very day?”

“I don’t, and that’s a fact.”

“Can you answer this question, Link? Where are marriages made?”

“Up aloft, they say.”

“Then how do you know that I am not going aloft, with you, for all I know, to invoke Cupid’s aid as to the knotty matrimonial problem?” said Harry, jokingly.

“I don’t profess to understand your lofty intentions, Goodall; they present such a romantic and fascinating aspect that I must agree to join you in testing them—if you will give me a lift up for that purpose; but you are solely responsible, mind, for raising such a spirit of inquiry.”

“There, for goodness’ sake, Link, let us stop joking. Here comes Miss Chain. I expect she has something to say to me about ascending.”

“Do introduce me, Goodall. I saw her coming before you did, and also that detective party who is not far astern of Miss Chain—perhaps he is her admirer.”

“Can’t fail to be that, Link; but just now Hawksworth is looking at a photograph, and now he is looking at us.”

“So he is. Perhaps he is wondering who I am. He is sheering off now—but who is this trying to catch your eye on the other side, Harry?”

“Oh, that’s Warner; he comes from the palace, where I am wanted, most likely. However, I will introduce you to the young lady.—Miss Chain, may I introduce to you an old friend of mine, Captain Link?” added Harry, as she came up to speak to him.

“I feel it a great honour, Captain Link, to become acquainted with a friend of my esteemed employer,” said Miss Chain.

“I shall have to leave you, Link, for a short time,” said Mr Goodall, “as the general manager wishes to see me. You will be back in time to ascend, Miss Chain?”

“I shall not be gone long, Mr Goodall,” was the reply.

Captain Link strolled on with Miss Chain, listening with delight to her conversation, and did not observe that they had passed the turnstiles and were going down the Anerley Road, towards where Mrs Chain lived. Presently, when close to the Thicket Hotel, they noticed two men coming towards them, whom Miss Chain at once recognised as her tormentors, and, strange to say, their faces seemed also familiar to Captain Link. This coincidence puzzled the young lady greatly, as she had thought at first that there was some personal resemblance between the taller one and her escort. When the men caught sight of Captain Link, they hurried away, much to his annoyance, as he wished that they had stopped long enough for him to remember their names and where he had seen them before.

Whilst talking on this subject, Miss Chain observed her mother, who was on the lookout for her return, and wished that Captain Link would say good-bye; but in that respect she was disappointed, as he presently remarked that he should very much like to be introduced to Mrs Chain, and after that he would go to the Thicket Hotel and try to find out who those men were, and would return in half an hour’s time to walk back to the palace with Miss Chain and her mother, if agreeable to them.

On this understanding, Captain Link exchanged a few words with Mrs Chain and then went on to the hotel, where he met Warner, who had himself been looking for the two spies, as there had been a police rumour that Hawksworth was expecting the arrival of some such men, and Warner inferred that they had actually been in the palace before, but that Hawksworth had failed to spot them. However, not finding them at the Thicket as he expected, Warner remarked that they might possibly have popped over the palings, or through a side gate, into the palace grounds, and he asked the captain, if he saw him at the entrance turnstile, not to take any notice of him, as he might be on the lookout for suspicious visitors.

On returning to the Chains, Captain Link remarked that it had flashed across his mind that the two men must have been passengers on board the Neptune, the last ship he came to England in, but he could not recall their names, being a bad hand at that sort of thing.

“Do you know,” asked Miss Chain, “if Filcher was the name of the more gentlemanly one of the two men?”

“No, I don’t think that was it.”

“Was it Croft, Captain Link?”

“Well, one of them answered to the name of Croft, and now I recollect that it was the name of the little man; but his master’s—let me see, I have it now—he was called Falcon, and he was my employer’s friend—or, I should say, he passed as such for some time after the owner of the ship had left Sydney. However, we will not say more about them at present.”

“I am so glad,” said Mrs Chain, as they drew nearer to the palace, “that you were with my daughter, Captain Link, when those suspicious men turned up again.”

“Indeed, I am proud to have met Miss Chain; and, do you know, I have some idea of ascending this afternoon?”

“Indeed!” said the mother, “that will be nice, and I hope you will all have an enjoyable trip.”

“I want to ask you,” said the captain, “as we are getting near to the balloon, not to say anything to my friend, Mr Harry Goodall, about this man Falcon, or Filcher Falcon as William Goodall styles him—or of any family accident or bereavement in the Goodall family of which you may have heard.”

“We certainly will not,” said Miss Chain.

“By the way,” said the sailor, “did you notice a man walking near you, just before we met in the grounds?”

“I did,” replied Miss Chain. “He was Hawksworth, the gentlemanly detective, but not, I should say, a clever one.”

“Then Warner is only an ordinary policeman, I suppose?” said Captain Link.

“Yes,” said Mrs Chain, “he is in plain clothes to-day, at present, however; he never parades about or makes so much of himself as this stranger Hawksworth does.”

“Indeed!” replied the captain—“but dear me, time has been on the wing. Why, the balloon is nearly full.”

“Yes, we must hurry on, dear,” said Mrs Chain to her daughter. “I’m afraid we are much later than we promised to be.”

“I see,” cried the captain, “that my friend Harry Goodall seems to be chatting with several gentlemen who are much interested in what he is going to do.”

“I wonder,” said Miss Chain, “if they are candidates for a trip?”

“I hope not,” replied the anxious mariner.

“I will ask,” said Miss Chain, “a palace official, who is coming our way, if any of them wish to go up.”

“I think not,” was the reply. “Some of them are distinguished visitors, who are delighted with Mr Goodall and his balloon.”

“Do you know them personally?” asked Captain Link.

“Oh yes; that portly, good-looking gentleman, speaking to the aeronaut, is Sir Joseph Terry, J.P., four times Lord Mayor of York; next to him is Sir William Ingram, Bart. The other gentlemen are Mr T. Hanson Lewis, a barrister, Mr John Holah, an artist, and Mr Charles Bucknell, an amateur aeronaut. The other aeronauts are Mr T. Wright, Mr Beatson, of Huddersfield, and the Brothers Spencer, of Holloway.”

“Thank you very much,” said the captain; “and now just one more inquiry, who is that tall, inquisitive looking man?—I have seen him before, eyeing me rather attentively.”

“Oh, never mind him—you would not care for his acquaintance,” said the official with a smile, as Hawksworth moved aside.

Miss Chain thought so too, though she refrained from mentioning his name, when they drew near the enclosure.

CHAPTER XI
REMARKABLE EVENTS

Whilst Captain Link had been enjoying his saunter with Miss Chain, Harry Goodall had been engaged with Trigger and the men in completing the inflation, which had progressed rapidly; yet, somehow, the assistant was not feeling easy, as his master had been sent for and detained in the building, and Miss Chain had not come back as she promised. Besides, he had been told that she had been seen strolling about with a gentleman who had the appearance of an officer, and Tom, who took a lively interest in Miss Chain’s welfare, felt vexed at her being so long absent with a stranger; and on Mr Goodall’s return, Trigger candidly told his master what he had heard. Mr Goodall was very sorry, for he feared that perhaps his joking question to Captain Link as to where marriages were made, when they were strolling about, had been overheard and had given rise to gossip. Possibly that man Hawksworth had been ensconced in the shrubs while they were chatting.

Presently, however, Captain Link, Miss Chain and her mother entered the inner circle, and Tom was thoroughly restored to good humour by their return. Soon afterwards Tom was called aside by Hawksworth, who said in an undertone, but with confidence,—

“I felt sure that I was right in sticking here with you and Mr Goodall—and how like his photo this pretended captain is.”

“I don’t know in the least what you are driving at,” cried Trigger.

“Sir,” said Mr Goodall, who had overheard the remark, “I fear you are labouring under a delusion.”

“Yes,” said Simon Warner, coming forward, “you are wrong this time, Jack!”

“Not I,” persisted Hawksworth, who, taking a photo from his pocket and then quietly going up to Captain Link, requested him to withdraw, and to consider himself under arrest.

“What do I hear? You scoundrel!—under arrest!” cried Captain Link. “If you don’t immediately retract your words and apologise, I will knock you down.”

“Go it, captain!” cried a bystander.

Then a great stir and excitement arose, but Simon Warner stepping between the enraged captain and Hawksworth, whispered to the detective,—

“You are on the wrong tack. I have seen the man you want and his mate, too. I mean that little fellow Croft—both of them have been under your very nose of late—and now you have gone and insulted a gentleman.”

Meanwhile, Mr Goodall, Tom Trigger and the general manager had ranged up near Captain Link, to protest against the charge, and in doing so they attempted to allude to the farcical error, in a humorous style, as a gross blunder on the part of the detective, Hawksworth—who was unknown to the authorities and who openly stated that he was extremely sorry, but he had made a mistake, and begged the captain’s pardon.

Captain Link then, in a very manly way, accepted the altered situation and was loudly cheered by the bystanders. But Warner, with remarkable shrewdness, said in an undertone by way of further explanation,—

“The party you are in search of, Hawksworth, is almost, though not quite, the double of that gentleman who is Captain Link.”

“But didn’t he leave Sydney and arrive here in the ship Neptune?”

“Yes, yes,” interrupted the aeronaut, “he has the honour to command her. You have missed your men, Hawksworth. The fellows you want have been knocking about here, causing no end of mischief, for some time.”

“If,” said Warner, “you want to drop upon two men named Falcon and Croft, you come along with me and I’ll show you which road they took, though I fear they’ve hooked it by this time.”

Hawksworth, after hearing this, at once withdrew from the enclosure with Warner, when the situation was at length comprehended by everybody present, and Captain Link, together with the aeronaut, became the heroes of the hour.

The general manager, knowing that the appointed time for the ascent had expired, said,—

“Pray, Mr Goodall, do not delay the ascent any longer, for these complications are most regrettable.”

“I would not hurry Mr Goodall,” said the chairman of the directors. “I have placed at his disposal, near the car, a small hamper of refreshments, which may be acceptable to them on their journey,” he added.

After acknowledging this thoughtful attention, Mr Goodall and his party took their places in the car, Trigger having already tested the ascending power with the gardeners’ help, who put in the car plenty of ballast. All being ready, the aeronaut released his balloon. Immediately an encouraging cheer arose, and all eyes were directed to them for some minutes.

The course of the voyagers was towards Essex, but the balloon was soon lost to view amongst the clouds, and was not seen afterwards from Sydenham. But, in following them, the reader should know that, before they glided through into the serene upper air, Harry Goodall was seen by his companions to be examining more carefully his map and barometer. Having done so, his attention was directed some few miles ahead, as they had crossed the Thames and were well over, when he said to his nautical friend,—

“Just take a look through my glass, Captain Link, and scan that red brick building nestling among the trees yonder.”

“By Jove! Goodall, that looks uncommonly like your uncle’s residence, where I was to arrive by train to-night, to give an account of how I had succeeded in giving you a distaste for ballooning, and here I am actually encouraging you and taking part in the pursuit myself. You must really plunge us into cloudland before the balloon is identified through your uncle’s long-distance telescope.”

“Don’t alarm yourself, Link, we are parting with ballast and shall soon be out of sight and in blue sky, I hope, but we must watch the influence of the north-easterly wind which prevails higher up.”

“You are quite right, Harry,” said Captain Link. “I observed the more lofty clouds going in that direction this morning.”

“What a change!” exclaimed Miss Chain, “and how much darker it is.”

“Yes,” replied the aeronaut, “we are passing through the clouds, and I daresay you feel chilly.”

“Allow me,” said the captain, “to draw your mantle closer around you, Miss Chain.”

“Thank you; it is certainly colder.”

“Eighteen degrees less than when we started,” said Harry.

“But what a charming sight!” exclaimed Miss Chain, as the balloon shot through the lighter vapour into sunshine.

“Quite a sea of clouds beneath us!” said Captain Link.

“Yes, and here we get a fine view of the ‘central blue,’” cried Harry Goodall, rubbing his hands with delight at having changed the scene.

But while Miss Chain and Captain Link were exchanging their impressions as to the fantastic forms of cloud and vapour which had gathered beneath them, the aeronaut was intent, with his compass in one hand, looking through an opening in the clouds towards a point of land which he saw in the distance partly surrounded by the sea. Goodall then noticed the course of the balloon as indicated by the compass, not forgetting to watch their drift over the clouds as an additional indication of the way in which they were going; but he was sorry to find that, in trying to avoid his uncle’s house, they were caught on the horns of a dilemma, for a momentary peep through a rift in the clouds enabled him to perceive that they were travelling with great speed in too close proximity to the Channel to be safe. They had completely altered their direction, having risen into the north-east current, which prevailed at about a mile and a half from the earth, and they were now going towards Hastings, and had recrossed the estuary of the Thames without knowing it. However, Harry Goodall did not wish to alarm Miss Chain, or to make known their exact and rather perilous position, which would have to be rectified.

Captain Link began to think that, when the chart and the compass were so frequently consulted, there must be some cause for uneasiness, and, as he knew that the aeronaut had traced with a pencil on his map their course since they left Sydenham, he asked Harry to point out exactly where they were supposed to be at that present moment. The aeronaut hesitated to comply with the request, but gave the mariner and then Tom Trigger the following answer,—

“We have totally changed our direction, and are now under the sway of the north-easterly wind;—but I am going to descend a few thousand feet and sight the earth.”

“But first let me look at your latest pencil mark, Goodall,” said Captain Link.

“You shall; but we are now most likely more within the coast line. Don’t be alarmed, Miss Chain, I am about to make a noise with the valve by opening it somewhat.”

“Oh, I have full confidence in your skill and management, Mr Goodall, though I thank you for warning me.”

The captain and Tom Trigger, both of whom inferred that the balloon might have been getting nearer to the Channel than they had been aware of, preserved a discreet reticence; but they quite understood that until they had passed through the widespread range of clouds, and ascertained whether they were over the sea or land, they could not possibly be free from a considerable amount of doubt. Trigger began to see to the stock of ballast which he was in charge of,—as they were just approaching some Alpine peaks of cloudland, and would soon be passing down through a much denser stratum.

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Miss Chain, “it is getting dark and damp again!”

“Yes; but the chill will not last long,” said Mr Goodall, soothingly.

“That strong north-easter has given us a sharp turn, Harry,” said the captain.

“It has, and to what extent it has driven us is just what I am anxious to ascertain.”

“Strong light breaking, sir,” cried Tom Trigger who had taken a bag of sand in one hand while he motioned to Captain Link to do likewise.

But Harry Goodall had caught the first indistinct glance of land and water—afterwards they heard the sound of a railway whistle—but on the left the open sea was not far off, though the aeronaut did not point this out, but drew Miss Chain’s attention to the green marsh-land on their right.

“Yes, wonderfully green isn’t it,” replied the lady; “but what murmuring sound is that we hear? It reminds me of the surf breaking on the seashore!”

“It does resemble that, certainly,” said Captain Link, “and we do hear the distant ripples, but we are going rather inland.”

“Not so very much are we, Mr Goodall?” asked Miss Chain, while the silence of the mariner and Trigger was strictly and wisely preserved. “Those Martello Towers look pretty,” she added.

“They will look prettier presently,” said the captain, “as we leave them behind us. We must have been bowling along, Harry, to be so far south?”

“Yes, it was that swift upper current that did it; but we are now almost in the same calm air which prevailed when we left the Crystal Palace. At the same time, we must land as soon as possible,” said the aeronaut, with a knowing look which the captain and Trigger knew how to interpret,—for there was no disguising from them what a close shave they had experienced, and that they were still too near the coast line to be safe.

They were, however, under the influence of a light sea breeze which bore them inland, and as a suitable spot for alighting was descried in the distance, Tom Trigger asked if he should be ready with the grapnel.

“I think not, Trigger,” said his master. “We are making for a nice spot behind those trees yonder; but you may lower the trail rope, as we progress so slowly now that the people assembled in the quarter I am pointing to, will be able to hold us fast without letting go the grapnel.”

“I had no idea, Harry,” said Captain Link, “what tact and jockeyship were necessary in managing a balloon. You see,” he added, turning to Miss Chain, “the movements of this kind of craft differ widely from those of a vessel on the water—here all is noiseless and seemingly bewildering to novices like ourselves.”

“Do you think, Mr Goodall,” asked Miss Chain, “that we shall reach the spot you have your eye upon?”

“Oh, yes; and I do not want to miss it, as the downs beyond are uninviting—but I have no very accurate knowledge of this part of the country. We must stop talking, however, now, please. Pay away your trail rope, Trigger,” added the aeronaut; “the people there are inviting us with their cheers.”

As the long rope dragged over the trees, it was soon caught and held by the villagers and others who had collected, and the balloon was gradually stopped, without any order having been given to that effect. Then the people began to pull them down rather more hastily than pleased Mr Goodall, so that Trigger became somewhat excited and beckoned them not to do so until express orders were given.

“Tell that stout fellow in velveteens,” said the aeronaut, “not to be in such a hurry, and not to jerk the rope, Trigger.”

“Hold on, Bennet!” cried Trigger, “for one moment, please.”

“How dare you call that man nicknames!” cried Mr Goodall. “How do you know what his name is, and who, pray, are you kissing your hand to?”

“Why, sir, don’t you know where you are?”

“No, I don’t. Where are we, then?”

“Why, at Wedwell Park, in Sussex, to be sure. There stands Lucy, sir, and Bennet, the gamekeeper. Listen, sir, and there’s the squire, too, saying ‘Welcome friends, pray come down.’”

“Confound it all!” exclaimed Harry Goodall, “I would not have descended here on any account, if I had known it. Link, I’m done for,” continued Goodall, turning to the captain. “Squire Dove and his daughter reside here. Whatever will my uncle say? Do tell them to let go the rope, as I wish to proceed further.”

“But can’t we get out of this little affair without making an ignominious retreat, Harry?” suggested Captain Link.

“It is a lovely spot!” urged Miss Chain. “What a pity to leave it, and do notice that young lady who appears to be anxious for us to descend, Mr Goodall.”

“Well, listen then, Link,” whispered Harry in a highly nervous state, “there is only one way out of the difficulty. We must not say who we are or where we came from. Let us merely call ourselves experimentalists who do not desire publicity—remember that now.”

“Don’t forget, sir, that they know me,” said Trigger.

“Hold your tongue, Tom; I am very angry with you.”

“There is really nothing to be frightened about, Harry,” urged the captain. “Neither Squire Dove nor his daughter know you personally, and as to Trigger, you can call him the balloon pilot.”

“Bother his pilotage, and my own too! I ought to say, however, we are all agreed not to divulge our names.”

“Oh, do listen,” said Miss Chain; “they are so anxious to have us down.”

“Welcome to Wedwell!” cried the squire once more. “Do pray come down.”

“Yes, do come!” said Miss Dove, pleadingly.

“There, Harry, if you can resist that!” exclaimed his friend Link.

“Yes; I suppose there is no help for it, and we must face it, and then get away as soon as we possibly can. Gently down,” said the aeronaut to Trigger, “and mind you spring out when I tell you, and warn Lucy to hold aloof and not to betray us.”

“She won’t do that, sir,” said Tom.

“Gently down, Bennet,” sang out the balloon pilot, in compliance with his master’s wish that he should act up to his new title.

“Don’t be alarmed, Harry. I will make it all right with your uncle,” whispered Captain Link, who looked as if he were pleased at the turn things had taken.

A round of cheering greeted the voyagers, as the car dropped into the arms of the Wedwell parkites. The squire took off his hat to Miss Chain, and Edith Dove blushingly said some pleasant words of greeting to Harry Goodall, who was pointed out by the captain as the proprietor of the balloon, to whom the chief honours were due.

Trigger was allowed to get out of the car, while the sturdy gamekeeper was asked to take his place. The aeronaut’s eyes were fixed for some seconds on Miss Dove—but what his thoughts were neither Captain Link nor Miss Chain could divine.

“If you will only get out,” said the squire, “I will guarantee that the gamekeeper and his men will take charge of your balloon, whilst you all get some refreshment. We are just going to dinner. Hand me that chair for the lady to dismount, and do allow me,” said the squire, “to assist you.”

“If one of your men will get in as each of us gets out,” cried the aeronaut, “to make up the weight—that will do. But the pilot is coming back; he will tell you how to manage.”

“I do hope that you are not going to let the gas out,” said the squire. “Couldn’t you, after dinner, treat us to a captive ascent?”

“Certainly,” said the aeronaut, “I shall have much pleasure in doing so, Squire Dove.”

A surly-looking old gentleman here came forward and said,—

“Don’t risk your life in such a trap as that, squire.”

“Please not to interfere, Doctor Peters,” retorted Squire Dove, testily.

At this moment the gong was heard in the distance, when the squire offered his arm to Miss Chain, and begged that the aeronaut would escort Miss Dove.

“We must not lose sight of your nautical-looking friend,” said the squire, alluding to Captain Link. “Your pilot I have seen before, I believe; he will be in good hands.”

“Thank you, squire, he will have to stick to the ship.”

“Now, do favour me with your name,” said the Squire to the aeronaut.

“The truth is we have all agreed to preserve strict secrecy in that respect, squire, for reasons which I cannot fully explain just at this moment.”

“Oh, I quite grasp the idea. You are not professional balloonists, probably, and do not wish to make known what you are doing.”

“No, we are not, and do not care about publicity or anything of that sort.”

“I observed that, after you came through the clouds, your balloon moved less rapidly, and just as it came nearer the earth you were almost becalmed—how do you account for that, pray?”

“I scarcely know,” replied the aeronaut; “it may have been owing to some influence I failed to notice.”

“Atmospheric, you mean,” cried the squire.

“Oh, do, papa,” interposed Miss Dove, “let us get into the Hall before the tiresome old doctor comes. He is following us with a letter in his hand.”

“Perhaps our Sydenham friend will not be in to dinner after all,” said the squire. “We will halt for one moment, please, to hear about that. How now, Doctor Peters?” added the squire; “you move as nimbly as ever.”

“I have just had a message, squire,” said the doctor in a whisper, “to say that our friend Falcon cannot keep his engagement—he may be here this evening or to-morrow. Excuse my coming in, squire.”

“Yes, yes, certainly, Peters, you amuse yourself with the balloon. Did our friend Falcon come down to Lewes?”

“I did not hear particulars,” replied the doctor; “but something has turned up to stop his arrival here.”

“No accident, I hope?” said Miss Dove.

“Now do come in, friends,” urged the squire, who proceeded to show his visitors above stairs.

Afterwards, when they were seated at table, the squire expressed regret that his friend, who had not been in England long, did not happen to be present.

“Very likely, Edith,” said her father, “he was detained by something unforeseen at Sydenham.”

“It may have been owing to something seen,” said Miss Dove, archly.

But while the squire’s daughter looked as if it would be quite as well for them to say no more about the absentee, the aeronaut caught sight of an enlarged photographic likeness, on which his attention was riveted, and which appeared to give him some uneasiness, but it passed unnoticed by Miss Chain and Captain Link, their backs being towards it.

CHAPTER XII
UNMASKED

The secret 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 slow to 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 the servant 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 the mariner; “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 them need 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 of a Mr 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 to be 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 you must finish up, captain,” cried the squire, “for I tell you candidly that 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. Miss Dove 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 the young 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.’

“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 is a 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.

CHAPTER XIII
THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT

“Now, Bennet,” said the squire, as they left the hall, “will the balloon lift us?”

“Oh, yes, squire, the pilot says she has plenty of power.”

“That’s all right. I ought to have told you, gentlemen, that we have large works near the park lane which can supply more gas if it is required. How much can we spare, Bennet?”

“About 20,000 feet, squire—that is, on demand, but much more to order.”

“We are surprised to hear this, squire,” said the aeronaut; “at that rate, my balloon could be either refilled here, or fed and retained if need be.”

“Yes, it could. I hope the pilot has been well seen after, Bennet?”

“Oh yes, squire, I have attended to him myself; but we have been a bit annoyed by the doctor, who has been taking on worse than ever.”

“What about? What has he to do with my visitors, who have enlightened me on points of great importance, and who will always meet with a warm reception here?”

“Doctor Peters has been predicting, squire, that the balloon is like a bird of ill omen, and that it means something unpleasant happening.”

“Perhaps he meant it portends that something unpleasant has been found out. However, I must clip the doctor’s wings, and as to ‘birds of ill omen,’ I don’t know whom he can be thinking about. By-the-bye, have you seen anything of Mr Falcon?”

“Not to-day, squire.”

“When was his servant, Croft, last here?”

“Oh, not since Mr Falcon was injured in the back by the Essex poachers, squire.”

A hearty laugh followed this remark, but the aeronaut did not venture a reply until the squire said,—

“What do you think of that, gentlemen?”

“Perhaps the sportsman was on other people’s property,” said Harry Goodall.

“That is a question we will leave for the present,” replied the squire.

“Is Doctor Peters still in the park, Bennet?”

“I believe he has gone to the post-office, squire, about an answer to a telegram he sent to Sydenham when the balloon arrived.”

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Well, the doctor may be on the staff of the Times for what I know; he is a most singular character. One can scarcely take seriously all that he has to say of himself. But you go on in advance, Bennet, and say that we are on our way down.”

“What may be your pilot’s name, pray?” asked Squire Dove.

“Tom Trigger,” replied the aeronaut.

“An expressive name. Is he a good shot?”

“Do you mean at game, squire?” asked the aeronaut, smiling.

“It is not to be supposed that he would fire on a fellow-creature.”

“Yet he has fired at one when greatly exasperated,” said the aeronaut.

“Indeed!” exclaimed the squire, as they rounded a clump of lofty trees in the vicinity of a fish-pond, near to which the gas house was located, close to a lane.

“Now, pilot,” said the aeronaut, “will the balloon lift three, including Squire Dove?”

“She has ample power, sir, for four.”

“My daughter will not be able to join us just yet,” added the squire. “Can the balloon ascend by moonlight?”

“Oh, yes,” replied the aeronaut.

On the strength of these assurances, the squire, Harry Goodall and the captain ascended to the length of a long rope, and had a splendid bird’s-eye view of the park and the surrounding country. Afterwards, at the squire’s request, his neighbour, the Reverend Mr Penfold went up, the squire accompanying him. This induced many others to follow, and after a time some of the household went aloft, conducted by Tom Trigger, Lucy having set them the example, but she had to go back immediately afterwards to Miss Dove, who was soon going down for her moonlight trip; but the squire began to think that it was almost too late to continue the ascents. However, as Miss Dove was seen to be approaching in the carriage, he said,—

“Can you take the captain besides yourself and my daughter?” adding that he would himself see to the working of the windlass.

As soon as they were comfortably seated, the aeronaut said,—

“Let up steadily, please, squire.”

“All right, the pilot and plenty of hands are in attendance.”

The view Miss Dove had of the park and Wedwell Hall by the light of the moon was unexpectedly gratifying, but owing to the lady visitor’s attack of hysteria, Edith was more thoughtful and less appreciative of the silvery-lighted scenery than she otherwise would have been; still, her remarks of delight were heard below, and her friends declared that this was the most striking ascent that had been made, for the people cheered and gave Miss Dove quite an ovation. But just when the pilot and Bennet had commenced to wind down the balloon, a report from a gun was heard, which appeared to have been discharged from a neighbouring plantation—and as the flash was seen just within the borders of the plantation, people hardly knew what to make of the affair, especially as a hat was seen directly afterwards to fall from the balloon.

Bennet, thinking that it was the accidental discharge of a poacher’s gun, rushed up a bye-path leading to the lane, followed by a local policeman and a stranger, who had not long arrived from Lewes, and who was said to be a detective named Warner.

As the balloon came near the ground, something was seen to be wrong, for Miss Dove appeared very excited, and the aeronaut had drawn a scarf over his head; but he asked the squire to help Miss Dove out of the car, when she stepped aside and whispered something to her father. The captain, looking very serious, told Trigger to place some men in the car, as they got out, then he offered to assist the aeronaut to dismount, but the aeronaut said, as if nothing was amiss, that he did not want any help, though the squire and Miss Dove, who had now reappeared, could perceive that blood was flowing down his face.

“Do, papa,” cried the anxious young lady, “insist upon his going up to the Hall with us in the carriage.”

“Yes, take my arm and do so,” said the squire; “and you accompany us, captain.”

Trigger followed them to the door of the carriage, having his master’s hat in his hand, and pointed to a hole in it; but the aeronaut smiled and said,—

“You are really making much ado about nothing; it is a mere graze on the head. Don’t, pray, feel alarmed.”

Miss Dove, despite these assurances, was visibly agitated, nor could she well be otherwise, as a rather copious flow of blood pointed to a wound of some kind.

As soon as the Hall was reached, Lucy was sent for to go and look for Doctor Peters. She came forward, looking very frightened and saying that the cook, Saunders, had met with some injury, for Lucy had not yet seen who was in the carriage, and was going on to explain the cook’s mishap, when the aeronaut, her former master, entered. Seeing that some accident had happened, Lucy ran off at once, followed by the squire, to obtain the doctor’s assistance, whilst the captain, having got some water and a sponge, began to bathe the wound, and was doing his best to stop the bleeding when the doctor was heard to be coming with the squire.

Doctor Peters was astonished to see who was his second patient, and was inclined to break out into a tirade as to the two disasters which had been brought about by the balloon. He said the cook had been knocked down by two fellows, and now what was this affair?

The squire, though he had hardly patience to explain, said,—

“While my daughter was making a captive ascent, someone fired off a gun at this gentleman or at Edith, from the long plantation!”

The doctor, who had not examined the wound with much energy, suggested that it might have been accidental, most likely a stray shot from a poacher’s gun—judging by the partially scalping effects of it.

“Is it at all serious?” asked the squire, impatiently.

“I should say not, squire. The cranium has been struck over the phrenological organ of benevolence. Had it been an inch lower, it might have proved fatal.”

“Then,” said Miss Dove, “it is not dangerous?”

“No, it is of a superficial character, fortunately.”

“It is a pity,” said Miss Dove, as she left the room to go and speak to the invalid lady upstairs, “that you did not say so at once.”

“Exactly. Your misplaced formality, doctor, is perplexing and uncalled for,” said the irritated squire, “and I think that if you had come to the point at once it would have been quite as well.”

“Don’t you worry, squire,” said the patient. “I told you before that nothing very serious had occurred.”

“Then if I go and see to the ladies, you will excuse me for a short time,” said the squire.

“Certainly,” said the aeronaut; “and I shall feel obliged if the captain will go down to the people and give Doctor Peters’s report to all who may inquire after Miss Dove and myself.”

“My dear sir!” exclaimed the doctor, as the captain left, “excuse me, but I noticed that you coupled your name in a very familiar manner with Miss Dove’s. Now, perhaps you are not aware that a gentleman has been assiduously and recently—”

“There, shut up your confounded nonsense, doctor,” cried the aeronaut, with a loud laugh; “I am quite sure that no one who may have been visiting here lately, or who may still be hanging about this neighbourhood, will have any chance with Miss Dove unless his intentions and actions are honourable.”

“My good sir,” cried the doctor, “your wound is causing an inflammatory state of the brain, I am afraid. Do be less wandering if you can, or I cannot undertake to fit you for leaving here, as you no doubt wish to do, in order to attend to your ballooning. If you keep quiet, you can leave with my approval to-morrow; but to do so you must avoid all flights of fancy that may prove exciting.”

Here the patient broke out into another fit of laughter, which brought down Miss Dove, who was delighted to hear any indication of cheerfulness.

“I was simply alluding,” said Doctor Peters, by way of explanation, “to Mr Falcon’s visits here, when this gentleman thought proper to betray feverish, if not slighting, outbursts, which I was not prepared for, Miss Dove.”

“Have you noticed, Doctor Peters,” asked Edith, “that my father has removed Mr Falcon’s portrait?”

“No, I had not, Miss Dove,” said the doctor; “in fact, I have been feeling partially bewildered ever since the balloonists dropped upon us, so you must not be too hard on an old friend.”

After this appeal, Edith left the doctor and his patient alone.

“Did I understand,” asked the doctor, “that you knew Mr Falcon?”

“I have seen him on more occasions than one,” replied the patient. “Hadn’t he been shot in the back, and didn’t he try to wear spectacles, and hasn’t he a rather flighty turn?”

“What can you know of Mr Falcon’s habits beyond mere hearsay?”

“I know more about him than you imagine, doctor!”

“Of his double, perhaps.”

“I am alluding to your Mr Falcon, who wore spectacles on the day that he was shot at in the Essex marshes for attempted incendiarism.”

“Merciful powers! My good sir, what are you dreaming of? He certainly did tell me that he had tried spectacles, but I told him to throw them up.”

“Did he tell you what else he had tried?”

“God bless me, sir, you are getting worse and worse.”

“Have you seen him about here this evening, doctor? I mean since you communicated with him?”

“Goodness me, no! It would be impossible for Mr Falcon to be here.”

“How so? Supposing he left Sydenham Station before five o’clock, couldn’t he have secretly crept into the park before the last ascent of the balloon?”

“My good man!” cried the doctor, “you have got some of the most horrible notions in your head that it is possible to conceive.”

“Would you, doctor, be surprised to learn, as I did before I was shot at, that a policeman from Sydenham is now here watching the proceedings?”

“I must really go and have a private talk with the squire, and send for your friend. Ah! some knocks—come in. Oh! it’s Miss Dove, I see. Will you remain here, Miss Edith, while I speak with your father?”

“Certainly, doctor; you will meet him coming down.”

When Doctor Peters met the squire, he said to him confidentially,—

“It is advisable that the balloonist’s friend, the sailor, should look well after him to-night; and he must take no stimulants, as I fear that his mind is affected.”

“What makes you think so, Peters?”

“Think so? I’m sure of it, squire. He fancies that your friend Falcon is an incendiary and a homicide, besides being flighty.”

“That is no proof that he is deranged; this scientific gentleman is a perfectly sane and far-seeing man.”

“Is he, squire? Then I am wrong in the upper story myself, while you are far gone in balloonacy! But don’t you listen to any cleverly-devised fables without having strong evidence to support them, squire, for I have no doubt that Mr Falcon will reappear to-morrow or next day and upset these people’s statements.”

“He dare not appear face to face with them,” said the squire.

“Don’t you believe that, for it is only the balloonist’s wild notion, which he has got into his head to-night.”

“It is well he didn’t get the bullet into his head! The question now for solution is, who fired either at him or at my daughter?”

“I am surprised, Squire Dove, at your having listened to what these utter strangers have insinuated about an absent man, who is being very likely mistaken for someone else of the same name.”

“You don’t know, doctor, what these strangers have told me and my daughter?”

“No, I do not, but if I had been present when they disparaged Mr Falcon, I should have stood up for him, as I will do until he arrives to defend himself; and as you have always been credited, squire, with not being prejudiced against the accused until you hear what he has to say, I hope you will not be hasty in believing all you hear.”

“When we get strong confirmation—proof after proof against Falcon, I suppose you will give in then, doctor?”

“Oh, yes, squire, I will undertake to eat my own words if you can convince me that I am wrong, for I look upon this episode in ballooning as a farcical affair!”

“That will do, doctor, please, for it may sooner than you expect present a much more serious aspect! Of course, you will give your patients a look in the morning?”

“Most certainly. I have well dressed the balloonist’s head.”

“Don’t fear, doctor, that he will turn out ungrateful, for if one-half of what I hear is true, he may return the compliment before long by giving you a dressing.”

“I am sorry to see you influenced, squire, by such absurd trash. Don’t believe a word of it. Au revoir.”

When the squire hastened down the park to see if the man who had discharged the gun had been seen, he found that the local policeman and Bennet had not yet returned from their chase after the two men from the back part of Wedwell Hall, who had been seen to run away in a northerly direction, where they might have met and injured the cook.

Just before the aeronaut had gone aloft for the last trip, Warner had suddenly appeared on the scene, though not expected, but he had not sufficient time to tell Mr Goodall the object of his visit. Thinking it, therefore, just possible that he might not see the aeronaut again for some little time to describe what brought him down to Wedwell Park, he went into the gamekeeper’s cottage and wrote down on a slip of paper a memorandum of particulars and left the same for early delivery to Mr Goodall.

The captain brought it up to the Hall, accompanied by the squire, after they had seen that the pilot, together with a good staff of workmen had been told off to look after the balloon during the night.

The squire, who had inadvertently or purposely left the young people alone, anxiously asked if the patient was worse?

“No, I am altogether better, squire,” said the aeronaut, and glancing at the letter which the captain handed him, he gave it back, asking him to read it out to them.

Warner’s reason for going to Wedwell Park:—

“After you ascended, sir, to-day, I tried to find Falcon and Croft at Sydenham with the aid of the London detective, Hawksworth, but the roundabout way he went to work in search of a clue so upset me that I left him and proceeded in my own humble way to act alone.

“Just as I was going to my lodgings, near the Lower Sydenham Station, I met a railway clerk I know coming that way, and I asked him if he had seen anything of two men, one tall and dark, the other short and sly looking, as they were wanted.

“‘If you step into the booking department,’ he said, ‘you will find them consulting the time tables about a Sussex train; they are going on by the next train to Croydon, where they will change for Lewes. Shall I go in and get you a ticket, and arrange that you slip into the guard’s van, Mr Warner?’

“‘Please do, and send on word to our inspector to say where I am going, as it is on important business,’ I said, at the same time explaining a little to him about the balloon ascent and the men’s recent conduct.

“‘But,’ said he, ‘do you know, Mr Warner, where the balloon came down?’

“‘No I don’t,’ I replied.

“‘It dropped in Wedwell Park, not so very far from Lewes, strange to say? We have had a message up to that effect, and that is what these men are going there about in all probability,’ said he.

“‘Did they reply to the telegram?’ I asked.

“‘No, but they have been away since and disguised themselves; but I could see they were the same parties and thought they were card-sharpers. If you look sharp, you will have time to slip into your lodgings and put on other clothes,’ said he.

“‘All right, and I’ll tread close on their heels, and very glad I am to get a good clue without beating about the bush,’ I said to the railway clerk.

“This correct information, sir, enabled me to follow them here without their knowing it. Falcon and Croft took a trap over, and I came in a fly—but I warn you that they may be here bent on mischief. I sent an earlier warning to Miss Dove not to go out without protection.

“S. W.”

“Oh, if this is from S. W., then the first was from him too,” said the squire. “How very clever and sharp, to be sure. I wish we had such men down here.”

“Warner is a born genius in his line, squire.”

“I believe he is, and who was the London detective?”

“Oh, that was the opinionated man who wanted to arrest my friend the captain—his name is Hawksworth.”

“You told us about him at dinner, captain,” said Miss Dove.

“Marvellous!” exclaimed the squire; “but it is getting late, Edith. I hope the lady has recovered.”

“I hear Lucy just coming, papa.”

“The lady is fast asleep, miss, and is better,” said Lucy in reply to her mistress’s question.

“Then let us all follow her example,” said the squire, showing his guests to their rooms.

CHAPTER XIV
SURPRISING DISCLOSURES

The quiet and interesting conversation that Harry Goodall had privately with Edith Dove whilst her father and the captain had gone to see if Falcon and Croft had been captured was neither sought nor expected. Edith, when alone with the aeronaut, had thought it only natural and right to offer her sympathies to the welcome messenger from the clouds, whose form and face seemed familiar, and whose recent services she not only appreciated, but at the same time felt that she was under the influence of gratitude and fascination, which she did not attempt to suppress, until a sudden ray of light, falling on the aeronaut’s face, revealed to her something which she hesitated to impart to him, in case she might be mistaken. The idea, however, which had come into her head, induced her to be more reserved until she had made further inquiries of the young lady who was with Lucy; for, if she were mistaken in her conviction as to where they had previously met, she might repent of being unduly precipitate.

Harry Goodall, it may as well be at once confessed, was, from the moment he met Miss Dove, the victim of love at first sight; besides, he could not rid himself of the notion that he had seen Edith somewhere before, as her pretty face appeared to be slightly familiar. This was the prevailing thought of the aeronaut as he conversed with Miss Dove, and afterwards he reproached himself about the utter stupidity he had shown in not having long before sought the acquaintanceship of the heiress of Wedwell Park, who now seemed to him so attractive and lovely; her very eyes beamed with a strange tenderness which was bewitching, and when a more subdued expression crept over her face, he thought perhaps her mind had wandered back to Falcon, who, according to the doctor’s insinuations, was paying his addresses to her.

It was whilst these similar fancies occupied their thoughts as to their having met, that the squire and the captain were heard to enter the hall. This ended their chat, and led to the reading of Warner’s statement, which tended to confirm Miss Dove’s suspicions. We must, however, leave the unsolved difficulty for the present, and freely admit that Doctor Peters was right in one respect, viz., that the aerial visitors had certainly created a great stir, and had induced the Doves to question the pretensions of the financier, which were evidently bold acts of audacity, intended for mischievous objects, for Falcon had been drawing largely on the squire’s fortune to launch and uphold an enterprise which had been considered most promising, until it assumed a doubtful aspect after the arrival of the balloonists. By this time, the doctor also knew that the financier had been partially exposed, and was not successful with Miss Dove, who never had liked him.

After the attempt on the aeronaut’s life, Miss Dove saw, with a woman’s instinct, that the wounded aeronaut had a bitter enemy, and with this conviction she went to the room occupied by Miss Chain, on the following day, with a view of getting information.

Miss Dove first spoke of the pleasure she had felt in making an ascent by moonlight, and regretted that it had been spoiled by a mishap, though only a slight one, as it had fortunately turned out to be, Doctor Peters having made light of the injury.

“Then it is not serious?” said Miss Chain; “I am so glad to hear that.”

“No, it is not serious as a personal injury, but it casts a dark shadow somewhere, and that is why I wanted to know how you were, and whether you felt equal to having the chat which I proposed last evening when I left you?”

“I am not quite up to it just now, I fear,” said the lady, “but I daresay I shall be presently, Miss Dove, when I will send and let you know.”

With this assurance, Miss Dove left her for a while.

In the meantime, Miss Chain saw Lucy, who advised her not to mention the gentlemen’s names, even if she was called upon to disclose her own, as it was a fact that neither the squire nor Miss Dove had any idea who the balloonists really were, though, said Lucy, in her honest, blunt way,—

“It is sure to come out, Miss Chain, so that it might be as well to state that you had been helping the aeronaut in his work, and it being completed, you were ready to take another situation.”

“Yes, Lucy, that would be truthful, and perhaps the right thing to do under the circumstances.”

Miss Chain thanked Lucy for her advice and kind attention, and then Lucy brought out a photograph which she thought Miss Chain had not seen, as she was not very well on the day it was taken.

“Tom gave it to me,” said Lucy, “and it was given to him by the gentleman who took it at the Crystal Palace. Very likely it will be more useful to you than to me.”

“And may I do as I like with it, Lucy?” asked Miss Chain.

“Yes; show it to Miss Dove, if you like.”

“I recollect now, Lucy,” said Miss Chain, “that I had been upset about the time you refer to by the spy, whose face I am certain I saw in the photo below on the dining-room wall last evening, and which upset me so.”

“Yes, I have heard about it, but don’t you worry, for as sure as you sit there, Miss Chain, you are on the right path to overthrow your adversary. Take my word for that, and I can tell you plainly that Miss Dove never encouraged Mr Falcon; it is my master, the squire, who has been taken in by him, and if I had your chance, Miss Chain, I would let my young mistress know that you believe Falcon to be the same person who imposed on you and your poor mother in Boulogne. However, I had better go and tell Miss Dove that you are coming at once to see her.”

When Miss Chain entered the room, Miss Dove took a seat near her, and commenced by saying,—

“I want to ask you the meaning of your remarks about the portrait in the dining-room last evening. You were very much excited, and you muttered to yourself, ‘He looks as he did in Boulogne, where he took the watch and chain.’”

“I do not recollect saying that, Miss Dove.”

“Indeed, you did, and you also said, not remembering, perhaps, that I was there, ‘To see him parading himself in disguise as he did at Sydenham.’ Now, I want to know,” continued Miss Dove, “if these remarks had any reference to what had occurred, or were they delusions?”

“No; they were true, and I was trying most likely to relieve my feelings as to what had actually taken place.”

“Poor girl! I can see that you have a grievance at heart which may yet be redressed. I only wish that you would stay on with me here as my friendly companion, for I should so much like to have someone with me who was sympathetic and straightforward. Do you think you would like to remain with me?”

“I would gladly do so, but, to be candid, I should wish first to consult that estimable gentleman, the aeronaut, for I would not slight him on any account.”

“I am much interested in all of you,” said Miss Dove, “and should like to know the history of your troubles.”

“Then I will tell you frankly, Miss Dove, and will begin by saying, no matter what your religious views may be, that I believe we were wafted this way for some wise and useful object.”

“I join cordially in that sentiment, and whatever your history may be, I do believe that you have been hardly dealt with.”

“My name is Chain, and my mother and I retired to Boulogne after the death of my father, because our small fortune, saved by teaching and thrift, was only just sufficient to keep us comfortably. In an evil hour, a fine financier made our acquaintance under the pretence of paying his addresses to me. He ultimately induced us to trust him with all we possessed for re-investment in a new enterprise, as he said that it was one which would pay a much higher rate of interest.”

“Miss Chain!” exclaimed her interrogator, with no small agitation, “you are not only enlisting my sympathy for yourself and your mother, but you are, without knowing it, suggesting that my dear father may have been similarly entrapped, and by the same man, possibly; but pray go on, I may profit immensely by what you are telling me.”

“Then, in an unfortunate hour, Miss Dove, we handed over all that we had in the bank, when the villain absconded with this, together with my father’s watch and chain, which, from their peculiar construction, I feel sure I have seen him wearing at Sydenham; and the photo in your dining-room represents the same man with the identical cable-laid watch chain conspicuously portrayed.”

“What astonishing coincidences and villainy you are bringing to light, Miss Chain; but I will not stop you in case Mr Falcon should come before I can warn my father that it is too late.”

“I must further tell you that, owing to our state of poverty, we started off to London to earn our daily bread. There we made the acquaintance of Trigger, Lucy’s sweetheart, and he and your maid introduced us to the aeronaut, who most kindly engaged us to do needlework for him.”

“Yes? and where, please?” asked the squire’s daughter, with an excited look in her eyes, which quite astonished Miss Chain.

“It was at the Crystal Palace that he saved us from starvation,” replied Miss Chain; but she was sorry to see that Miss Dove was so much moved by her story that she was crying and much upset.

On recovering herself, Miss Dove exclaimed,—

“How good and noble of him to act in that way.”

“I am glad to hear that you think so, Miss Dove, but I can give you further proof of his having acted the good Samaritan.”

“Let me tell you, Miss Chain, before you go on, I discovered last evening that I and the aeronaut had met before.”

“Yes, and I will remind you very easily, Miss Dove, when and where you did so,” went on Miss Chain, as she drew from her pocket the photo that Lucy had given her, representing the rescue of the lady from the Crystal Palace lake by Harry Goodall.

Miss Dove, rising in great excitement, took a steadfast gaze at the view, and exclaimed,—

“Yes, an accurate reproduction! There is no mistaking that figure,” she emphatically observed, with her finger on the figure of the aeronaut, as she dropped on to a lounge in a seemingly fainting condition.

Miss Chain flew to the bell rope and pulled it so energetically that the squire, who was with Doctor Peters, his patient and the captain, hurried up to his daughter’s sitting-room, and on finding out the state she was in, called in the doctor who had followed the squire.

“What, dear Edith, is the matter?” asked her father.

As he spoke, he noticed the photograph on the lounge, as did Doctor Peters, who was now by her side, and exclaimed,—

“What, more ballooning? Oh, dear, dear! When will this end?”

The squire, who was thinking of his daughter, did not take much notice of what the doctor said, but endeavoured to call his attention to Edith, who was slowly recovering herself, and exclaimed,—

“Don’t, my dear father, trouble the doctor.”

While the squire and he were examining the photo, the aeronaut and the captain had begged to be admitted, and had come over to Miss Dove and were saying a few kind words to revive her, not knowing the cause of her attack, though Harry Goodall was reminded, by the appearance and size of the photo, of that unexpected incident in his uncle’s presence, when the ship photographer was announced, but he little thought that it was actually one of the three photos that had been taken of the trial trip of his air-ship on the palace lake.

“You can now plainly see, doctor,” said the squire, pointing to the photo, “that my views are proving sounder than yours hour by hour; but I thought it was Falcon who saved my daughter’s life?”

“Of course you thought that the financier rescued her, for did he not tell you so in my presence,” cried the doctor. “You forget, however, squire, that sensational pictures are not always to be relied upon.”

“That one may be,” retorted Miss Dove, in a firm voice, “for I declare that Mr Falcon never put forth a finger to save me. It was this brave gentleman who did so,” cried Edith, as she grasped the aeronaut’s hand and drew him down by her side.

And while a fresh interchange of tender and grateful feeling was proceeding, the squire, Doctor Peters and the captain were intently looking at the respective figures in the photo.

Presently the squire exclaimed, with an undisguised amount of sarcastic sharpness,—

“Falcon’s attitude is characteristic of the man. Don’t you think so, captain?”

“I have only just seen it for the first time, Squire Dove,” replied the captain, “and have not heard of the occurrence previously.”

“Then yours will be a weighty testimony,” said the squire. “Can you recognise the persons here represented? Look at them, and give us your frank opinion.”

“There sits Mr Falcon!” exclaimed the captain, “with his hand on the side of a boat and his head bowed down—I’ll swear to him; and there is my friend, the aeronaut, lifting a lady out of the water, who, unmistakably bears the strongest resemblance to your daughter, squire.”

“Do let us retire below stairs,” cried the host. “The three invalids will excuse us, I know, for I am not sure that I can summon patience much longer to haggle with the doctor and his obstinacy.”

“I shall not give in by seeing a mere picture,” cried the doctor.

“Then you must be totally blind to ocular demonstration,” said the captain, moving off with the squire.

But when once they had reached the hall, Squire Dove felt that he had no desire or patience to listen to any further observations that the doctor might wish to offer, so he was politely bowed out, when the squire and the captain had a confidential chat until they were joined by the aeronaut and Edith Dove, together with Miss Chain, whose name had not been divulged as yet, for Edith was not well enough to enter upon the thrilling disclosures she had listened to that morning. She remembered, however, that a kindly-disposed policeman had told her at the Thicket Hotel that she was saved by a scientific gentleman, whose name was not mentioned.

But by way of a timely diversion, the squire proposed a stroll in the park, to see how the balloon was getting on, for, said he,—

“The more Doctor Peters raves against it, the greater liking I seem to have for it.”

Here, while the inspection of the balloon was going on, the gamekeeper drew their attention to a paragraph in a local newspaper, which contained a reference to the performance at Haywards Heath. It was as follows:—

“A Flying Visit.—The extraordinary experiment lately made by a Professor Scudder and his director, at Haywards Heath, with the object of showing a new mode of flight, has led to inquiry respecting the two individuals who so suddenly appeared in that part and who disappeared so hastily. All sorts of conjectures have been formed as to who they are and where they came from—fortunately a snap-shot by a local photographer was taken just before the flying machine started, when the quasi director lost part of his disguise and Scudder was about to start. This photo has, we hear, been secured by someone who is of opinion that the adventurers are not after all Dutchmen, but two persons who have been obtaining money under false pretences, and whose pretended flight through the air is thought to be a mere ruse to draw off attention to a more extended ‘flight’ by land and sea. Further enquiries are being made, we hear.”

“Quite right, too,” said the squire, “for they may turn out to be—”

“Hush, papa! the doctor is coming, and may as well be kept in ignorance of this suspicion.”

CHAPTER XV
WANTED BY WARNER

“Tired Nature’s sweet restorer” had not been indulgent to the visitors at Wedwell Hall, the reason perhaps being that they were conscious of having upset the quiet routine of the Doves by having shaken their faith in Falcon, but they did not do so designedly to cause mischief, but rather to expose an outrageous impostor.

The aeronaut was the first to make his appearance the next morning, before the squire or Miss Dove were astir, and the lady’s maid, Lucy, took this opportunity of saying a few words to Harry Goodall, her former employer. Amongst other things, she told him that Miss Dove and Miss Chain were fairly well, and that they had been talking about him and saying many sweet things about him; but the aeronaut passed the matter by and asked if there was any news of the runaway rascals.

“Lor’, sir, haven’t you heard that the men who attacked the cook are supposed to be burglars, and have taken to flight?”

“No, I had not. Tell me about it. But I want to hear first of all about the Crystal Palace photograph. How came you to bring that forward, Lucy?”

“Well, sir, I gave it to Miss Chain for a good motive. I wanted to endear my mistress to you and to Miss Chain, if the truth must be told; but don’t you mind what the doctor says, Mr Goodall.”

“I cannot be indifferent to his remarks, Lucy, for he may be in some way mixed up with Mr Falcon.”

“Not he, sir. I should say that the squire had been taken in by Mr Falcon in one way and the doctor in another without their knowing it.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Lucy, and in return for it I must tell you, as I have already hinted to Tom, that I shall very soon make known here who we are.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, sir.”

“Talking about burglars, Lucy, I thought I heard someone moving about just now.”

“It is your friend, sir, coming down,” said the girl, as she looked towards the stairs.

“Come in, captain; I am getting the early news,” whispered his friend Harry, whilst Lucy left the room.

“And how is the wound?” asked the mariner.

“It is healing like a dog’s!”

“By Jove! You would have been done for if the balloon had not been hauled down just at the right moment.”

“Yes, I’ve no doubt my life was attempted, but the sudden dip saved me. Had we remained stationary a second longer, I don’t suppose I should have been talking to you now.”

“Well, look here, Harry, now that we are alone, I wish to know whether we had not better declare ourselves before I leave, as you are clearly on the best of terms with Miss Dove, and more so, I should say, than if you had introduced yourself to the squire and his daughter as a merchant’s clerk, according to your uncle’s programme?”

“And my father’s, too, Link; don’t forget that.”

“Quite so.”

“The truth is, captain, we’ve no time this morning to concoct any definite plan of campaign, as we appear to all intents and purposes to be the agents of destiny, and I propose that we act and speak simply according to circumstances as they turn up. I agree, however, that we ought to make known our names—perhaps something may occur to enable us to do so with good grace—so now we had better inquire what is the latest report by Warner and the gamekeeper; we must also see to the balloon and Trigger.”

“I am at your service, Harry, and by-the-bye, I hope that you don’t disapprove of my attentions to Miss Chain?”

“That entirely depends, Link, upon four words—‘Do you mean it?’”

“I do, old friend, most certainly.”

“Come along, then, for we’ve a lot to unearth and unravel.”

It seemed that Trigger and Bennet had ascertained that a tall and a short man had been seen to leave the plantation and go up the lane towards the Hall when Miss Dove was in the balloon car, soon after the rifle was fired most likely—afterwards the smaller man was seen to call at Doctor Peter’s house while he was absent in the park. This information was obtained after the local policeman and Warner had failed to find anyone escaping in the direction of Newhaven; but the fugitives might have gone off in a northerly direction, although Warner thought that they would without doubt make off in a southerly direction, with the intention of leaving the country by the mail steamer—that is, if they did not escape through the air, for they both answered to the description of two men who had been trying to fly from Haywards Heath.

Meanwhile Tom Trigger had not been idle in looking to the safety of the balloon, which had been made snug by attaching heavy weights to the netting, which he procured from the gasworks, and additional pipes had been placed on the ground in case a supply of fresh gas was needed. The assistant had also taken other precautionary measures, in the event of a strong wind springing up, and he suggested the advisability of his going up to the Crystal Palace to bring down all the bags and other tackle for holding down the balloon. At the same time he would try to find out from the Sydenham police authorities what Warner was to do, and how long he could stay, as he was trying to be on the track of the fugitives, though he promised to be back to confer with the squire after he had organised a sharp lookout down Newhaven way, where he would not leave a stone unturned in co-operating with the local police.

The squire was in the park much earlier than was his wont, and he was accompanied by his daughter and Miss Chain, who was better in health, though she appeared to be very quiet and thoughtful.

Doctor Peters was about this time entering the lower gate of the park, and he went up to those who were grouped near the balloon and congratulated his patient on being out so early, and as breakfast time was drawing near, and the postman was observed on his way to the Hall, it gave him a good excuse to accompany the party back, and to look at the aeronaut’s head. When the examination was over, and a favourable report given, the squire, who had a local morning newspaper in his hand, said,—

“You had better sit down with us, Peters, for I have just caught sight of an article about the balloon descent at Wedwell Park. This is what they say:—

“‘An ascent of an apparently scientific character was made a few days since from Sydenham by an amateur aeronaut, whose name has not transpired, accompanied by an officer in the mercantile marine and a young lady, about whom a great deal of interest had centered, in consequence of her having been defrauded, as it is alleged, by a swindling financier, not unknown, too, at a certain Hall in Sussex, and in other parts of the country. It is also rumoured that the young lady, as well as the amateur aeronaut, had been shadowed and annoyed for some time by the same financier in the neighbourhood of the Crystal Palace.

“‘The aeronauts were at one time in Essex, but owing to a strong upper current of a north-easterly kind, they were driven towards the south coast, when they dropped on the estate of a highly-respected Sussex squire, where the balloon, to please the latter, made some captive ascents. Then a strange thing happened, for on the occasion of the last ascent, when the squire’s daughter was in the car, a rifle was discharged at the amateur aeronaut, the missile passing through his hat and wounding him on the head. The squire’s medical attendant pronounced the wound not dangerous, but the question of motive suggested itself, and there is reason to conclude that the attack was made by none other than a flighty financier, assisted probably by a confederate. Colour is given to this supposition, as this “gentleman” did not keep his appointment of dining with the squire.

“‘The last information we had was to the effect that the fugitive financier and his servant were wanted.’

“I am truly glad that the report stops there,” exclaimed the squire.

“And that no names are mentioned,” added Miss Dove.

“Nor the precise locality,” said Miss Chain.

“Still,” cried the squire, “Falcon hasn’t a leg to stand upon; and now, doctor, you are at liberty to say what you like, but mind what you do say, in case you have to eat your own words.”

“What I have to say is this,” replied the doctor, still unconvinced, “You have favoured us, squire, with a most libellous paragraph, for which the reporter, whoever he may be, deserves to be prosecuted, as the statements are built on hearsay, and traduces a man whom we regarded, until the balloonists presented themselves, as a friend; and how do we know but what the balloonist’s financier is as different from Falcon as chalk is to cheese?”

“What? After a sight of his photos and his shadows at the Crystal Palace, besides personal evidence of an uncontrovertible character?” asked the squire, somewhat irritated.

“Doctor Peters!” exclaimed Miss Dove, “I really haven’t patience with you! In the face of such evidence as we have had, it is folly to persist in bolstering up an untenable position.”

“And I will take leave,” said the squire, “in support of my daughter’s spirited remarks, to put one question to you.”

“Well, let me hear it, squire.”

“Did you send a telegram to Falcon, at Sydenham, after the balloon came down here?”

“I did, Squire Dove, believing that he was straight and true to you, to your daughter and to me.”

“Then you have been the victim of an impostor, and why not own to it?”

“I am not going to do that at present, squire, for how do I know but what Falcon may walk in and scatter like chaff before the wind all the unfair conclusions that have been arrived at in his absence?”

“Falcon will never appear here again,” said Miss Dove. “However, there is a knock at the door.”

“Come in,” cried the squire. “Oh, it is the pilot. How now, Trigger?”

“The policeman and Warner have returned, squire.”

“Tell them to come in and make their report,” said the squire, and turning to the men as they entered, he asked, “Have the suspected men been seen or captured, officer?”

“Not at present, your worship. They have been seen, and may have gone north, while we took the Newhaven route.”

“You naturally inferred that they were leaving the country by the Dieppe steamboat. I think that you, Warner, have been in this neighbourhood before?”

“I have, your worship, but the last time I came down I was with Mr Falcon and Croft, in the same train with them from Sydenham.”

“But where had you seen them previously?”

“I have seen them at the Crystal Palace more than once, your worship. I had to lock up Croft for trespass, and his master I found at a doctor’s house near here in a skeleton cupboard.”

“What do I hear? You are surely romancing, Warner?”

“No, squire, he is not,” cried Doctor Peters. “I admit that last ludicrous allegation to be true, for Mr Falcon, after he was shot by a poacher, as he said, came to consult me as to the injury he received in his back, at the same time this man, Warner, if he really is a detective, did obtain admission to my consulting-room, and as the cupboard was not occupied by the skeleton, Falcon stepped in there instead of going into the next room.”

This statement caused general laughter.

“How very odd, doctor; but you cannot gainsay that Warner was certainly a detective on that occasion, and a very expert one too. Ha! ha!”

“I think, squire,” said the doctor, “if the poacher who shot at Mr Falcon could be produced he would throw a different complexion on the affair.”

“He stands in your worship’s presence!” said Warner.

“Indeed! Who is he?” said his worship.

“Come forward, Trigger,” cried Warner, with a covert smile.

“I am no poacher, your worship,” replied Tom, as he stood forward, “though I confess to having shot at, and having hit, a man in the Essex marshes who wilfully fired the gas in my employer’s balloon. And I assert that that man was Mr Falcon, who at the time was disguised with spectacles, false beard, sandy wig and reversible coat.”

“How do you know, Trigger, that he was Mr Falcon?” asked his worship.

“He was the same person who had annoyed my master and Miss Chain at the Crystal Palace, and the same who did not attempt to rescue the lady from the lake, but left that honour for my guv’nor to perform.”

“Any further evidence?” asked the magistrate.

“Only as to the photo in your dining-room, your worship, besides the one I gave to Lucy. They are both faithful likenesses of the man I shot at and hit in the back.”

At this critical moment, when the doctor seemed somewhat confounded and rose as if he could bear it no longer, two young women, Lucy and the doctor’s servant, Maria, were disputing as to who ought to catch the squire’s eye to have the first say after Tom Trigger had done.

“Come forward, Lucy,” cried the squire, who had noticed the altercation. “What is it you wish to say?”

“If you please, squire, I only wish to say that my Tom is no poacher, and as to the photo that the doctor turned his nose up at, I can swear that it was taken on the banks of the Crystal Palace lake, and is a faithful portrait of Mr Falcon, who made no attempt to rescue Miss Dove.”

“And please, squire,” said Maria, “may I speak?”

“Certainly; and what have you to say?”

“I ought to have said so before, your worship, Doctor Peters is wanted immediately by a lady who is very bad.”

“Hurry off, doctor,” said the squire.

After the doctor’s exit, Maria asked, when she saw that her master had left, whether she could state something that took place at their house during his absence in the park looking at the balloon. It had been preying on her mind, but she did not like to make it known, because she thought the doctor would not believe it, and would blame her.

“As your master has just left, Maria, I would reserve what you have to state until he is present, and then speak out fearlessly if it is anything that would concern him or any of us here assembled.”

“I don’t know whether it would amount to much, your worship, but I will follow your advice—though people will talk about those who are suspected.”

“Don’t you talk about them, Maria.”

“I don’t know, your worship, whether they are one and the same party.”

“To whom are you now alluding?”

“To these air-flying robbers, squire, who are said to have come from—”

“Stop, my good girl, and pray confine yourself to what can be proved. Don’t go beyond that. Certainly I have heard with regret that two insane Dutchmen are supposed to be at large with evil intents.”

“They do seem to have method in their madness, your worship.”

“You may think so, Maria, but your master and others may hold quite different Views. Here, however, we must stop, and not at present enlarge our borders.”

CHAPTER XVI
ON THE TRACK

Some hours later, when Doctor Peters had returned from attending his case, the squire resumed the inquiry and at once called on Maria to make her proffered statement.

“If you please, sir,” said the girl, “not long after the balloon ascended by moonlight, and the gentleman was shot at, a little man came to Doctor Peters’s house to ask for the medicine that was made up for him. I was not aware that anything had been prepared for him, and while I was asking a question I noticed that he held a handkerchief in his hand which smelt of something strong. I just recollect his going upstairs, and then I must have become insensible. When I came to he had disappeared and the front door was closed. I did not say anything to the doctor about it, as I thought he might say I was hysterical and that my head was full of fancies, but when I heard the evidence at the last meeting, I thought it my duty to state what had happened.”

“Another far-fetched delusion, squire,” cried Doctor Peters. “Young girls are given to go on that way.”

“And so are old gentlemen,” replied the magistrate. “Anyway, I cannot blame your servant for declaring herself as she has done; and at no distant date, perhaps, we shall be able to judge whether this item of evidence should be regarded as a dream or something worth listening to.”

“Nothing in it, squire, take my word for that,” replied the doctor.

“I hope it will turn out so,” retorted Maria, smiling with an air of confidence, however, for she had elicited the fixed attention and sympathy of those who were present.

It was noticed that although the doctor pooh-poohed his servant’s statement, it seemed that he did so very half-heartedly, and several times showed signs of being ill at ease.

At this juncture Warner stepped up to Mr Goodall and gave him a letter, stating that it had been left with him for the aeronaut just as he rose from the Crystal Palace in his balloon, and that he had not had an opportunity before this of delivering it.

Having perused the letter, the aeronaut stated that he would read it aloud, as it had considerable bearing on the case into which they were inquiring, although it was from his uncle.

“Is your uncle an aeronaut?” asked his worship.

“Oh, dear no, Squire Dove.”

This is how the letter ran,—

“My dear nephew—”

“Stop a minute,” interrupted the doctor. “What is the name of the writer?”

“William Goodall, who is my uncle,” replied the aeronaut, “and the letter is addressed to me, Harry Goodall.”

“Then, my good sir,” observed Doctor Peters, brusquely, as he looked at the aeronaut, “how is it, if you are related to the brothers Goodall, of whom I happen to know something, that you did not make yourself known to the squire and to Miss Dove when you dropped among us in Wedwell Park?”

“It was because I am a Goodall that I withheld my own and my companions’ names, as my uncle, like you, doctor, hates ballooning, and has but a poor opinion of flying. He warned me never to visit Squire Dove until I had renounced my hobby.”

“Ah! it would have been well for you, young man, if you had obeyed your uncle,” cried the doctor.

“I beg to differ from you there,” said Harry Goodall; “for the concealment of my name has been a Godsend to me.”

A remark which made Miss Dove lower her eyes, while a becoming blush clearly showed that she reciprocated the sentiment of his remark.

“Now proceed, Mr Goodall, if you please,” said the magistrate.

“Certainly, sir.”

“My dear Nephew,—Should you see Captain Link at the Crystal Palace, will you ask him to proceed to Gravesend with all haste, and there await the arrival of my ship the Retriever, as her captain died suddenly yesterday, and, as Link is a single man and will not be returning just yet in the Neptune to Sydney, he might be glad of a little change. Link will find his traps on board, but he must get to Gravesend with all speed, and proceed direct to Cherbourg, as the Retriever’s cargo is due there already.

“Have you seen anything of Mr Falcon, Harry? Should he cross your path, at once apprise the police, requesting them to keep close on his track, and let them acquaint me of it, as I have obtained positive evidence since Captain Link left me to visit you at the Crystal Palace, that this precious financier is an arrant impostor. Instruct Link to start as soon as you can.—Your affectionate uncle,

“William Goodall.”

“First of all I should like to say,” said the squire, “how very pleased I am to make your acquaintance, and offer my warmest welcome to Wedwell Park. And now, Mr Goodall, will you favour us with the name of your charming fellow-voyager?”

“Oh, I can do that, father,” said Edith Dove, “as Miss Chain, for that is the lady’s name, has told me all about herself. I had better repeat part of what Miss Chain said. ‘A portion of my history,’ she stated, ‘appears to have some bearing on the recent episodes which have occurred. My mother and I, when residing at Boulogne, were robbed of our little fortune by a financier, then styling himself Filcher, and now known as Filcher Falcon.’ This Miss Chain has disclosed. I can quite understand his not daring to face us all here.”

Miss Chain’s remarks seemed to have a disturbing effect on Doctor Peters, for he got up and left the room; and as no one had further remarks to make the squire dismissed Warner and the servants, omitting any allusion to what Maria said about air-flying robbers.

No sooner were the squire’s investigations over than the mariner, who was anxious to leave for Cherbourg, was complimented, questioned and surrounded by the Doves and Miss Chain, with a view of affording him any assistance he might require, while everyone expressed regret at his sudden departure. The host ordered his carriage to take the captain over to Lewes to catch the first train that would take him to Gravesend.

Captain Link promised that he would see them again after his trip to Cherbourg, and Miss Dove kindly promised that they would take care of Miss Chain; while the squire told the captain that there would always be a knife and fork for him whenever he could manage to return to the park.

Presently the carriage drove up to the door, and, with many handshakings, the captain departed, accompanied as far as the station by the ladies, while Harry Goodall remained behind with the squire, at his special request.

The carriage had no sooner passed out of the lodge gates, than the squire requested Harry Goodall, Warner and the local policeman to appear in his private room, to hear his views as to the suspects. One of the results of this conference was that the squire ordered a dog-cart to convey the detective to a brother magistrate, and to the police authorities at Lewes, as he wished to take fresh steps to have Warner provided with warrants for the apprehension of Falcon and Croft, and then the detective could proceed instanter to Newhaven, to arrest, if possible, either or both of the fugitives. In the meantime, the squire would not be idle in his co-operation, as he considered that it was almost certain that the delinquents would try to leave the country by the Newhaven route.

Harry Goodall, whilst the squire was writing his letters, proposed that they should go down the park and ask Bennet if they had heard of anything fresh, and decide, before Trigger left for the Crystal Palace, to fetch the bags and traps, whether they had better not let the gas out of the balloon? But when Squire Dove reappeared on the scene, he emphatically said,—

“If I were in your place, Mr Goodall, I would do nothing of the sort, for I cannot forget that it was through you and your balloon that I have been rescued from the brink of a precipice, and as long as you like to keep it where it is, you have my sanction to do so and to take in as much gas as you require. Any way, don’t strike your colours to-day, or the doctor will fancy that we are fearing an attack by Falcon and Croft, or anyone they might appoint to do us an injury.”

Complying with the squire’s wishes, Trigger was sent off to Lewes with orders to bring down all the aeronautic tackle from Sydenham, as it looked as if they were about to have a change of weather, and, if so, the balloon would not be safe with the rough pieces of iron slung on the net-work. And Trigger took a letter to the palace secretary, expressive of his master’s regret for the unpleasant affair connected with his last ascent, when Captain Link was mistaken for Mr Falcon by the detective Hawksworth. Harry Goodall begged also for an extension of leave for Warner “on very important business.”

Lucy went down just in time to see her sweetheart off, but, as Bennet said, “She did look sadly!” and no wonder, for she had a matter of considerable importance on her mind, for Saunders, the cook, having recovered consciousness, had just imparted to her that she distinctly saw two men disguised making their way out of the library not long after Miss Dove made the balloon ascent by moonlight, when Wedwell Hall was left with scarcely anyone to look after it.

Some time after hearing this startling intelligence, Mr Goodall and the gamekeeper hurried up to the Hall, and there met the squire’s carriage returning with the ladies from Lewes. The aeronaut told the coachman to delay taking the horses out, as a second journey might be required.

Harry Goodall having communicated what Saunders had stated, everyone crowded into the library, when a rapid examination of the bureau proved that it had been burst open and a large number of negotiable securities had been carried off.

“I feel certain, sir,” said the cook, “that the thieves were that gentleman who has been here so often lately and his little servant!”

“Are you sure, cook?” asked Miss Dove.

“Yes, miss, I feel quite certain, though I fancied at first that they were gas men, as their faces were black like, but I am sure about them now by their figures.”

“I fear it is too true!” exclaimed the squire, who dropped into a chair and seemed quite overcome.

“My dearest father!” cried Edith Dove, “don’t look so broken-hearted. Have courage! We may yet recover the property. Don’t you think so, Mr Goodall?” as she looked over at the aeronaut with a smile which would have nerved anyone to hope and action.

“Do pray cheer up, sir,” said Harry, “and let us consult as to what is best to be done.”

Edith then sat down at her father’s feet, and after some discussion, Goodall suggested that they should wire forthwith to Lewes and Newhaven?

“Yes, a bright thought! Come with me, brother Goodall, to the post-office. I feel a better man already from what you have offered to do. Order the carriage,” he said, turning to Bennet; “we can go on to Lewes after telegraphing.”

“Your carriage is already at the door, squire,” said the gamekeeper.

“Good, for there is not a moment to be lost. Be sure, Bennet, you do not say a word about this to Doctor Peters, or anybody else for the present.”

“You may rely upon me, squire, in that respect.”

“Shouldn’t we be able to detain Warner at Lewes,” asked Harry Goodall, “if we hurried on without stopping?”

“Capital thought,” said the squire. “We will do so, and press on at once.”

“Jump up by the coachman’s side, Bennet, and urge him on,” said the squire, as he entered, in a more resolute spirit; “but stop at the post-office first, Bennet.”

“Pardon me, Squire Dove,” cried Harry Goodall, “wouldn’t it be wise to give your local telegraph office a wide berth?”

“Good again, Goodall! What a far-seeing man you are! Yes, we may save time and stop Warner by so doing.”

The carriage drove off rapidly, the ladies waving, cheering good-byes.

“That was a wise precaution, brother!” exclaimed the squire, as they rolled along en route for the Sussex county town, “and now that we are alone, what about your suggestion, which no one shall know about?”

“To be candid, squire, I would rather, before I unfold it, ask Warner’s opinion as to its practicability. If he approves of it, I might join him in carrying it out. If he disapproves of it, we may leave him to do his best to co-operate with other detectives at Newhaven. But should he agree with my proposal, I will explain the entire scheme to you, and you shall have the casting vote as to its adoption.”

“I hope you are not going to humiliate yourself by acting personally as a detective, Goodall?”

“Oh, dear, no; but don’t be too sensitive on my account, squire; but I have just one idea that might possibly facilitate matters—at anyrate, I will broach it to Warner, as I have every confidence in that man.”

“And so have I,” said the squire. “How opportunely he delivered at the fittest moment your uncle’s letter, to the discomfiture of the doctor.”

“Indeed! that was well put in, wasn’t it, squire?”

“A masterpiece indeed!”

The squire’s carriage had only just entered Lewes, when Bennet was seen to be gesticulating on the box, and was heard to cry out “Hi!” to someone in the street. It was Warner coming from the railway station, after having seen Trigger hurrying off to Sydenham.

“Get out,” said the squire to Harry Goodall, “and have your chat as soon as possible, while I go to the police authorities. The carriage shall come back and bring you up to me; perhaps, if you agree, Warner may be in time to push on to Newhaven by the first train, as the local police there will not allow the fugitives to escape, and no boat leaves for Dieppe until the tidal train departs.”

Highly delighted was the squire to see the aeronaut and the detective together when they came up in his carriage with an air of confidence and hope, as if they were of one mind as to Mr Goodall’s plan of recovering the lost property.

It was agreed that a telegram should be sent to Newhaven, and that Warner should proceed by the night tidal train. As there was time to spare, Warner proposed returning to the park to interrogate Saunders. And although the squire gave Warner leave to do so, he could not refrain from a mischievous smile at the detective’s zeal in wishing to get the cook’s version of her experiences from her own lips.

“Don’t allude to our little scheme before the ladies,” said the squire, as the carriage approached the Hall; “and as to you, Warner, I think you had better go round and see Saunders while you are in the humour.”

“Thank you, squire, I will avail myself of this early opportunity of picking up what I can, and will return.”

“You needn’t hurry for an hour at least,” said the squire, as he entered the Hall.

Harry Goodall availed himself of a word at parting with the detective.

“Simon!” he said, “you are a brighter and wiser man than ever I took you for. Keep everything dark, except your liking for the cook. At the same time, if you can pop in and interview Doctor Peters, do so, as I heard privately that the old fellow is in some trouble about what his servant alluded to at the meeting this afternoon.”

“Quite so, sir. I understand.”

“And you think our proposed plan of action will do, Simon?”

“First class, sir; that is, if we keep silent, Mr Goodall.”

“Everything depends on that,” were the detective’s parting words.

Of course the rumours referred to by Maria and others about the flying men and their quixotic performances at Haywards Heath, were not overlooked by Warner, who thought the fugitives might have harboured the idea of escaping through the air, or of carrying off by that route some fair Sussex maiden. However, Warner had arrived at the definite conclusion that Falcon and Croft had quite abandoned any scheme of making their exit by an aerial contrivance, and felt certain, even if Hawksworth might have been doubtful on the subject, that the financier and his confederate would make for Newhaven, and rely upon a sea passage across the Channel.

Warner heard that Hawksworth had been down instituting inquiries at Haywards Heath; but the palace policeman had no sooner endorsed Harry Goodall’s proposed plan for Warner’s line of action, than the latter decided upon making straightway for the South Coast, and of there going to work, not only in the immediate vicinity of the railway stations and the place of departure for the steamboats, but his observations would extend beyond—as far as Seaford.

CHAPTER XVII
ALARMING INCIDENTS

Who could blame Simon Warner for being behind his appointed time with the squire, when he had to interview the doctor? Warner found him in a much more amenable spirit; he seemed almost persuaded that he had been victimised, and went so far as to impart some special information to the detective on the condition of silence. Doctor Peters adding that he would himself inform the squire when and how he thought most fitting.

On Warner’s return to the Hall, the squire took him round the library, and gave him a list of what had disappeared, with the numbers of a roll of bank notes. This done, Warner took leave and proceeded on his mission.

Meanwhile Edith and Mr Goodall were strolling together through the park in the direction of the balloon on the excuse of inspecting it, but more probably to enjoy each other’s society.

“Do you think the balloon in any danger should a storm arise?” asked Edith.

“Indeed, I do not,” replied the aeronaut, confidently, “for it is strong and sound.”

“The sky has certainly a darkened aspect,” said Miss Dove.

“It has,” replied the aeronaut; “but there will be time before nightfall to take extra precautions, and I shall personally see to it, as Trigger is away, and I perceive the barometer is falling.”

They found the balloon in such a state of repose that the watchers strolled leisurely around it, but Bennet and his staff of assistants were at hand and promised that, if there was any important change during dinner, he would advise them.

“Then come along,” cried the squire, “for it is for once in a way past our regular time, and all seems so quiet that we had better make the most of our time.”

At dinner there was an artificial show of composure about the little party of four, for their thoughts naturally kept reverting to the robbery, while the strange stillness had by no means a soothing effect on the nerves. Presently there came a vivid flash of lightning, followed by a heavy peal of thunder, then a second larger flame of forked fluid descended with an alarming roll of fearful reverberations among the leaden clouds.

“I must go down,” said the aeronaut, pointing through the windows to a shower of leaves, which had been blown from the trees. “There is a strong wind rising. It’s that I dread, not the lightning.”

Goodall was accompanied by his host to the door, and as a rattling shower of rain was pouring down, the aeronaut was provided with a mackintosh, umbrella and wrap, and away he ran, while the squire ordered a closed trap to be got ready, and soon followed his young friend.

When Harry Goodall reached his balloon, he found that Bennet and his helps had attached extra weights to the net-work, but the silken globe was now greatly agitated and swerving to and fro, presenting a remarkable contrast to the tranquil condition in which he found it before dinner.

“There’s another lively flash,” cried the gamekeeper; “and, my word, how the thunder rolls. It is not improving, and hark at the pattering rain on the top of the balloon! It won’t force open the valve, will it, Mr Goodall?”

“Never fear, Bennet; I always take precautions to prevent that. The only thing I fear is that the iron weights may dash up against the silk and make holes.”

“Steady the weights, my lads,” cried the aeronaut, “as much as possible when she makes those heavy lurches. Hold on all! There, she plunges again, and don’t be alarmed, my men, she is in a sheltered haven—it is the back winds that catch her underneath and cause those ugly flaps on her crown.”

“My dear Goodall!” said the squire, on his arrival, “this frightful wind will soon put an end to your balloon, I fear!”

“Not if we keep on nursing her as we have done, squire.”

“Pick yourselves up, my good fellows!” said the aeronaut to two or three men who were rolled over among the half hundred weights as they swung among their legs and threw them on their faces. “I hope no one is hurt!”

“All right, sir, don’t mind us, we sha’n’t let go!”

“Stick to her, boys! Mind your legs, Bennet, and pray, squire, mind your hands; the cords will cut them if you hold so tight.”

“Never you mind me, Goodall,” cried the squire, “it is all hands to the pumps; I can plainly see that, and every ounce of steadying power is an object.”

The huge silken mass was at this time plunging and swaying like a restive horse, and had lost much of its symmetry; it looked as if it were impossible that it could weather the storm. How it stood such a buffeting amazed Harry Goodall, for the birds at roost were being driven out of some of the trees and sought shelter in distant shrubs, whilst, ever and anon, the topmost branches, in shattered wisps of leafage, came circling down among the men, and lodging for a few seconds on the dome of the balloon, when they would be caught up afresh and whirl about until a heavier gust swept them out of sight.

“Don’t we hear a sound of wheels in the lower road?” asked the squire.

“Yes, I hear Trigger’s voice,” said Mr Goodall. “Run, two or three of you, my lads, and help in the bags.”

“There are three loads of sand in the barn,” said the squire, “and I suppose you will substitute your sand bags for these weights?”

“Yes, squire; I shall at first put the bags between the iron weights, so as to add a couple of tons more power—then, when we get a lull, I will take off the metal.”

“The wind drops, I fancy,” said the squire.

“It does a little, and that will enable some of us to fill the sacks. Bear a hand, Trigger, and go with Bennet into the barn where the sand is, but mind those guns, pistols and ammunition in the balloon car. The gamekeeper thought we should be prepared for a night attack. Show Tom where your air-gun is, Bennet.”

“You don’t expect any worse attack than we’re having, do you sir?” asked Trigger.

“I mean an assault by those rascals, who may be badly disposed towards us. A lot has happened since you have been away. I can tell you about it presently if this lull of the wind holds; however, get your bags filled and hooked on, in case of more fitful gusts,” said the aeronaut, and then, turning to Bennet, he continued,—“The squire has returned to the Hall to order down refreshments and to soothe the anxiety of the ladies.”

“We’ll soon bring the bags, Mr Goodall,” shouted the gamekeeper. “I’ll place the car and the firearms in a snug corner, sir.”

“Do so, but leave the firearms inside, Bennet, though I’ve no fear, in weather like this, that any persons with malicious intentions will hang about the park now after what has happened. They are more likely to be hovering about the coast, either at Newhaven, Folkestone or Dover, so as to clear out of the country.”

“No doubt Warner has his eye on them by this time, sir,” observed the gamekeeper. “However, we’ll get to work, Mr Goodall, now it is a little quieter.”

“Yes, sharp is the word in case of squalls.”

The squire was soon seen to be hurrying down with some of his servants and a truck laden with tea, coffee, cold meat and a lot of creature comforts, with sundry bottles of more stimulating liquids and lighter drinks for the balloonist.

As it was comparatively calm when they came to hand, the squire proposed that, if half the numerous hands could be spared, they should go into the spacious barn close by, and partake of something to eat and drink, the next shift going in when they reappeared.

Acting on this proposal, all hands were fortified for night work, and they were told to run over, a few at a time, to the gasworks and dry their clothes in the retort house.

Bennet asked the squire and Mr Goodall if they would like to go over to his cottage to talk, as Trigger had brought letters from Sydenham and Lewes, which, in the bewilderment of the gale, he had omitted to deliver.

Soon after midnight there was such an improvement in the general outlook, coupled with a steady rise in the barometer, that the attendants were allowed, in divisions, to withdraw into the adjacent lane and smoke their pipes. Shortly after, the squire had a quiet chat with Mr Goodall, and then he proceeded to the Hall. But Harry Goodall returned to the balloon, where he found the gamekeeper awaiting him.

“Now look here, Bennet,” said Mr Goodall, in an undertone, “we don’t want that inquisitive doctor in the way, so I must find a means of getting rid of him, though, to be candid, he is too outspoken and blunt for that sort of thing, but I think it is very likely he has been made a tool and a fool of by that arch-demon Falcon and his crafty confederate.”

“I do believe you’re right, sir, and I only hope that Warner has got them right and tight by this time.”

“They’re likely to double or cut some unexpected capers, I should say, Bennet. Warner mustn’t expect they will go direct into the Dieppe or short sea-route steamers.”

“At that rate, sir, he is as likely to miss them as not.”

“Quite possible, unless he is uncommonly sharp and on the alert. Recollect that we shall have, when daylight breaks in, to fill out with gas the loose folds of the balloon, and get her dry. You run over to the works,” he added, turning to Tom, “and say I shall want as much gas as they can spare to make up for what we’ve lost, as she will soon throw off the wet if she is more fully distended, and afterwards we can get her into the sun’s rays.”

“Please to recollect, Mr Goodall,” said the gamekeeper, “that most of these men, who are agricultural labourers, will have to leave us at six o’clock.”

“I’ll not overlook that, Bennet, and now,” continued the aeronaut turning to Trigger, “won’t you get some rest?”

“Not I, sir; you have most need of rest.”

“That’s just what I think, Mr Goodall,” said the gamekeeper, “and if you go and shake down for an hour or two in my cottage, I will call you if it comes on to blow again, or when Trigger has taken in gas.”

“Say at five o’clock, sir,” said Tom Trigger.

“Good, I will follow your excellent advice, but be sure you do call me by five o’clock.”

“You may rely on that, sir,” said Bennet.

As dawn broke, the scud and the clouds were moving swiftly under the influence of a N.N.W. wind, though it had gone down near the ground, so that Trigger and the workmen were enabled to complete the inflation; but Tom did not attach the car, nor would he move anything out of it, not even the store of provisions nor the firearms, until his master came out of the cottage, so that Bennet determined to rouse him for fresh orders, for it was a lovely morning, and, as the clouds cleared, the power of the sun began to dry the balloon. Meanwhile, the workpeople had some breakfast served out to them by Bennet, who anxiously awaited the appearance of the aeronaut.

When Mr Goodall arrived, he begged Trigger and Bennet with all haste to attach the car to the balloon, but not to remove anything in it until he told them to do so. “And you can fix on my water drag and the other contrivances, Tom; you understand I daresay?” said the aeronaut, who espied the old doctor hobbling in with two sticks and looking like a man with a grievance that he wanted to ventilate.

Tom Trigger obeyed orders, but he knew not what to make of his master’s movements. Something was up, he mumbled to Bennet, which he was not aware of himself.

“However, he may be going to have a flutter. I should not be at all surprised at that,” said Trigger, “though the wind at present does not blow in a very fair quarter.”

“Indeed, no,” replied Bennet, “it is for the coast.”

Harry Goodall at this moment was looking bright and full of action. He replied in a friendly way to the doctor’s greeting, who had seen the top of the balloon much higher than formerly above the trees and wondered whether the aeronaut was going to take flight; but as Mr Goodall regarded his presence just then as an impediment to his movements, he said,—

“The balloon had got so thoroughly drenched during the storm, that she was now about to be dried, and must be so placed, and elevated, if necessary, that she could get the full power of the sun’s rays.”

This last declaration was quite enough for Tom Trigger; it was a tip which he at once understood.

“But how is the head, my dear sir?” asked the doctor.

“It is vastly better, thanks; but I wish I had another box of your soft salve, doctor.”

“I will stump away and fetch some,” cried the doctor. “By the way, Mr Goodall, I had no idea that you were connected with old acquaintances of mine. I want to talk with you—”

“If you are able, get the salve first, please.”

“My dear sir, willingly; I see you are very busy, and will reserve my tale, which will make your hair stand—”

“That will do for the present, doctor. We must soon release these workmen. Excuse my offhandedness just now.”

“Certainly, certainly; I will fetch the salve.”

No sooner had the doctor moved away than he noticed Lucy, who came from the cottage, sidling up to Trigger, when a slight freshening of the morning breeze caused the balloon to roll round in a graceful sweep, which afforded the aeronaut a reason for requesting that Lucy should keep farther away, and allow Trigger to do his bidding.

Harry Goodall then joined Tom, Bennet and one or two others, who were attaching his machinery to the side of the car. Then he took Tom Trigger a little aside, and said,—

“Slip your overcoat and things in the car; mine are already there. You have not, I hope, disturbed anything I placed myself therein.”

“No, sir,” said Tom, “and I begin to tumble now as to what you are after, but I wish I had known earlier.”

“It is quite as well as it is, perhaps,” said Mr Goodall. “I do not want to let the gas out in the park, and you see what a fine chance there is for drying her aloft.”

“Drying her, or trying her, which am I to understand, sir?”

“You know quite enough, my trusty Tom, for the present. We must be off in ten minutes’ time. Never mind saying ‘Good-bye.’ And here, Bennet, request these men not to shout or make the slightest noise, as I am off for a short trip; and you won’t mind trusting your firearms in our care, as the taking them out might create some astonishment. You understand, Bennet?”

“I begin to, sir. But what am I to say to the squire and the ladies?”

“Tell the squire all that took place truthfully. He knows what my intentions are.” Then, turning to Tom, the aeronaut said,—“Is the ballast ample, Tom? Just give me a lift into the car, Bennet.”

“And ease up this rope,” cried Trigger, “when Mr Goodall gives the word.”

“Now, then,” said Mr Goodall, “ease away the rope, Bennet.”

“Throw one bag of sand out, Tom. She will do now. We’re off, Bennet.”

“Please, sir,” cried Lucy, “may I speak to Trigger?”

“The moment he returns, you can, Lucy,” said Mr Goodall, as they rose.

“She mounts beautifully over the trees, Trigger.”

“She does indeed, sir,” said Tom, who, although Lucy was crying, kept his eye in advance of them.

Every workman raised his hat or cap as the balloon ascended, with the most obedient and respectful silence. Looking towards the hall, Mr Goodall saw Squire Dove at his open bedroom window waving both hands, while a voice in the lane was heard to cry out,—

“Stop, my good sir, where the dickens are you going to? I’ve brought the salve.”

“Thanks! Good morning, doctor; I’m due near Newhaven in less than twenty minutes, and could not possibly wait longer.”

“Depend upon it,” cried Lucy, “they’re gone to do something more than dry the balloon. I’ll give it to Tom for not letting me know what they are up to.”

“Tom knows no more than you or I do,” said Bennet. “I can vouch for that.”

Next came the doctor, struggling and limping along on his two sticks, while he flourished one of them in the air at Bennet, in denunciation of Mr Goodall’s sudden flight.

“This must have been a pre-arranged insult,” he said to the gamekeeper. “I had something important to tell him, and my opinions have changed entirely with respect to his affairs. He doesn’t know, perhaps, that I have been robbed?”

“He knows that the squire has, and Mr Goodall may be after the thieves, for all we know,” said the gamekeeper.

“That is just what I am doing, Bennet. Don’t you see my trap in the road? I’m going now to telegraph to Scotland Yard.”

“But for what we know, doctor, the aerial voyagers may be in pursuit of the fugitives?”

“Believe me, Bennet,” cried the converted doctor, “if I thought young Goodall would come across and capture those villains in whom I, too, have been grossly deceived, I would leave him all I have.”

“What a change has come over you, doctor!” exclaimed Mrs Bennet.

“I own to that,” said the doctor, “and I will tell you why and all about it soon, but I must go now and wire, for there is no believing anybody in these days. But see, Bennet, the balloon is fast driving towards Newhaven.”

“Yes, she certainly is,” said the gamekeeper, “and I trust that none of us will tell the young ladies or the squire, for to-day at anyrate, what we have been talking about, as it would be cruel to increase their troubles at a moment like the present.”

After the doctor had bowed assent to this suggestion, he hurried away. The balloon was then travelling coastwards.

CHAPTER XVIII
WAITING FOR NEWS

When Edith Dove and Miss Chain met on the morning after the storm, the weather had much improved, and they eagerly awaited Goodall’s joining them at the breakfast table, to hear how the balloon had fared during the night. Their surprise was, therefore, very great when the squire came in and announced that they might look for Goodall in vain, at anyrate for the present, as he had ascended soon after sunrise, the atmosphere being so inviting that he preferred to dry his balloon in the sun’s rays instead of retaining it in the wet park.

“And do you think, my dear father, that Mr Goodall would act in that way without any intimation of leaving us so suddenly?” said Edith, with some degree of feeling.

“He left us most affectionate remembrances,” replied the squire, “so Bennet tells me, for I have been down the park and have only this minute returned.”

“Did Mr Goodall go alone, papa?”

“Oh, dear no, Trigger was with him, but he made no mention, that I heard, as to how far he was going, and it was amusing to hear how he gave the doctor the slip. Peters, it appears, came in very early and was prying about, wanting in a more friendly spirit to know this, that and the other, when our friend Harry, in a humorous way, sent him off on a fool’s errand. After breakfast, we may get some news as to where they descended.”

“They will have to make,” said Miss Chain, with evident anxiety, “an exceedingly short trip.”

“I should think so,” said Edith, “considering that the wind blows towards the sea. Surely they would not drop near the Channel.”

The squire, who wanted his breakfast, replied curtly,—

“I daresay they will; but pray, Edith, do not let us enter upon fruitless speculations, as we may hear at any moment that they are perfectly safe.”

“I’m not at all sure that this ascent of Mr Goodall’s was not premeditated,” said Miss Dove, seriously, “for I noticed when Mr Goodall and you, father, left us in the carriage for Lewes, that you both were evidently hatching some mysterious plan, and I passed a most restless night in consequence, but I hope that no wild adventure has taken place.”

“My dear, Edith, if we fail to receive good news before dinner, I will readily grant that I was wrong for not advising Harry Goodall to let out the gas before the storm came on,” replied her father, evasively.

“How I wish it had been,” said Edith, who looked at Miss Chain, with anxiety depicted on her face.

“I knew,” added the squire, “that our brave young friend would sooner—well, I won’t say what. Be patient. It will all be right in the end, depend on it.”

“Now, don’t take a gloomy view of things, dear Edith,” said Miss Chain, “for, even if he were to attempt to cross the Channel, I have heard Mr Goodall say that if ever a balloon was fitted for service of that kind, his new silk balloon was the one. But you are eating nothing, dear.”

“Thanks, but I don’t seem to have any appetite.”

The squire did not choose to explain himself further, although he inferred from Miss Chain’s demeanour that she, to some extent, shared Edith’s fears.

Soon after Doctor Peters arrived, and before he could be stopped, he blurted out that he “had news in more ways than one, and had just had a message from a friend who lived near Newhaven to say that a balloon, reported to have ascended from Wedwell Park, failed to effect a landing near the South Coast, and had been driven out to sea.”

“I, for one,” cried the squire, with great vehemence, “am not in the least alarmed by what you state, Peters, though I do not thank you for offering this intelligence to my daughter instead of to me, as it savours of the pessimism which is your ruling complaint, and I don’t believe a word of it, and can assure you that I have thorough confidence in the aeronaut’s skill and feel assured of his safety.”

“That is all very well, squire, if the balloon has sustained no injury.”

“I insist upon it, Peters, that just now, in my daughter’s presence you keep your croaking tongue within your teeth, and if you in any way further espouse Falcon’s cause, or anyone belonging to him, I shall hold you guilty of being connected with him in some way or other.”

“Hold me guilty, squire! why, I am now quite on another tack, being in possession of fresh information.”

“You may or may not be, but if I thought you had in any way communicated with him since he has proved himself a villain, I would, notwithstanding my position, turn you out of the house!”

“Stop, stop, squire. A threat to commit a breach of the peace from a magistrate—that is too dreadful to think about.”

“Is it? Well, you had better take yourself off with your forebodings of evil. You would raise the blood of a saint.”

“Indeed, squire, I was just going to tell you how I have been myself treated by Falcon.”

But Squire Dove, whose back was up, ignored the remark, regretting, however, when he was cooler, that he had not heard the doctor out. For, as Edith Dove said, “Falcon might have done the doctor some harm; he had certainly something on his mind.”

“If so, Edith, we shall soon hear about it; and one can always feel and express regret for hasty behaviour. If I have done Peters the least injustice, I shall be the first to apologize.”

At length the post arrived, bringing an important letter from Mr William Goodall, Harry’s uncle. It was addressed to the squire, who read it out to the ladies with a view of diverting their minds from the disagreeable impressions which had been produced by the doctor’s ill-timed visit. The letter was as follows:—

“My Dear Dove,—I was much pleased with your account of the sensational version of my nephew’s unpremeditated visit to you, which appeared in a Sussex newspaper.

“I was truly glad to hear that Harry Goodall made a favourable impression on you and your daughter, and that he and his companions had been invited to remain for a time at Wedwell Hall.

“The fact of Harry having made your acquaintance through the medium of his balloon, was indeed a great surprise to me, especially as I had told him that you and Miss Dove would never receive him as a visitor whilst he was addicted to ballooning; and when I heard that it was in that character he won your good opinion, I was delighted though astounded at the news, as it convinced me that ‘Nothing is so certain as the unexpected.’

“And it seems that it was through Harry that you were led to finding out what a designing rascal that man Falcon is, so that I cannot reasonably take my nephew to task for pursuing his favourite pastime, after all is said and done. As I shall be down your way shortly, I will do myself the pleasure of calling at Wedwell Park when we can talk over Falcon’s misdeeds.

“I myself happen to possess a photograph of the lake incident at the Crystal Palace to which you allude. It was through my advice that my nephew suppressed the circulation of it, but I detected the likeness of Falcon in the boat, though I was not sure as to the identity of your daughter being the lady who was rescued by Harry Goodall. I now congratulate Miss Edith and yourself on the event, and I thank you for your polite attention to Captain Link and to his lady friend, whom Miss Dove is so much charmed with. I am expecting to hear of Link’s arrival in Cherbourg, and am glad to say that he stands very high in my estimation, and is the most trustworthy captain in my employ.

“I will not dilate on the good opinions formed of him in Sydney, as the revelations I shall have to make in reference to Falcon, will be connected with the ship Neptune which Link commanded.

“At this moment, I cannot fix the day on which I hope to see you, as it will depend upon the arrival of a steamer with two passengers on board from the Cape. With kind regards to yourself and Miss Dove,—I remain, faithfully yours,

“William Goodall.”

“I think after that letter,” said the squire, “we shall have to await philosophically the full tide of events. In the meantime, I shall be glad to know, Edith, if you have heard anything from Lucy that will throw any more light on the situation.”

“Well, my dear father, Lucy did not think that Trigger knew what was his master’s real aim in ascending. He must have been hurrying on the preparations for what appeared to be a complete voyage of discovery. But she had no hint from Trigger, and the gamekeeper could not fathom what their objects were or their destination.”

“No, I don’t suppose they had,” said the squire.

“But it must have been something, papa, beyond the mere drying process, as they were equipped as if for an aggressive expedition.”

“I do hope, dear,” said Miss Chain, “that you were wrongly informed there. They might have had instruments for observations and meteorological research.”

“Oh, they had very different implements from what you mention, my dear,” said Miss Dove. “There were strange-looking appliances outside the car, and within there were guns, pistols, an air-gun and I don’t know what besides.”

“Let me,” said the squire, “say a word about that part of the story. Bennet explained that he had provided firearms in case any attack was made on the balloon by night, and these weapons were for safety placed in the car; but when Mr Goodall resolved upon baulking the doctor’s curiosity, he would not wait to have the balloon pulled down for that purpose, and I think, under the circumstances, Harry was right to slip cable, for the doctor might have terrified you more by any reference to the firearms than he did by his message that a balloon had been seen going out to sea.”

“Tell me, Miss Chain, were there firearms in the car when you ascended from Sydenham?”

“Oh, dear no, I am quite sure there were not.”

“How now, Lucy?” asked the squire, as the maid entered with a letter.

“It is from the harbour-master at Newhaven, sir. Shall the man wait for an answer?”

“Yes, by all means. This is what he writes,” said the squire:—

“‘I am glad to say that the detective from Sydenham and Wedwell Hall has been on the lookout for the two men wanted. One was seen to go on board a foreign vessel which was lying off the port. He was a little man, but had a bag with him. Have you dispatched a balloon from the park? If so, it is going across the Channel splendidly; it made a temporary halt at Bishopstone. Please reply.’

“Yes, certainly I will, and thank our friend at Newhaven for such very welcome news.”

“Welcome news, papa?”

“Why not, Edith, it is far more reassuring than the doctor’s version. What say you, Miss Chain?”

“It accords with Mr Goodall’s views as to the competency of his balloon.”

“Just so,” cried the squire. “I regard it as a promising instalment of good news, and shall look for better in the morning.” Then turning to Lucy, the squire said,—“Tell the bearer that if he will sit down I’ll speak with him.”

After the squire had gone below, Miss Chain said,—

“I really do sympathise with you, Miss Dove, and cannot understand what Mr Goodall is bent on accomplishing.”

“He is perhaps attempting to cross the Channel with the idea of pursuing the fugitives in France, but to me,” said Miss Dove, hysterically, “it seems fearfully venturesome.”

“Let us hope it will all end well,” said Miss Chain.

CHAPTER XIX
UP ALOFT

After Harry Goodall and Tom Trigger had left the park and Doctor Peters in the lurch, a grand view burst upon them as the balloon mounted to an elevation of over two thousand feet, when the rays of the bright sun enlivened the Sussex scenery and began to dry the saturated silk.

Magnificent, however, as the change proved, the voyagers had no time to dwell upon such matters, for the open sea lay before them, and they were drifting towards it rapidly and in the direction of Newhaven. Up to this time, Goodall had kept his real project from Trigger, but now that the aeronaut and his assistant were alone in the empyrean, there was no longer any reason for concealing from Tom that they were not aloft solely for the object of drying the balloon, but principally to carry out the daring and novel idea of pursuing the fugitives, Falcon and Croft, should they have crossed over to Dieppe by the steamer from Newhaven. And certainty as to this Goodall expected to get from Warner, whom he had arranged to pick up and take in his balloon somewhere near the coast by preconcerted signal. This was the scheme concocted by Harry Goodall, and listened to with approval by the squire when they journeyed to Lewes, though, of course, it was not finally settled until Warner had agreed to it.

Harry Goodall, soon after passing the Sussex Downs, in pursuance of this piece of aeronautic strategy, lowered a long trail rope to check the speed of his balloon over the marshes, so that he could pull up with less difficulty as they drew near to the coast. And on his side, Simon Warner was fortunately enabled to expedite the aeronaut’s efforts on noticing the balloon by picking up a fly returning from the station. This was a special bit of good luck, as the fly man, Richard Trimmons, knew the country intimately and had done a little ballooning himself. Directly they caught sight of the balloon, they commenced signalling to Mr Goodall to anchor near Bishopstone Church where there was a sheltered spot. Here, two other Seafordites, viz., Blucher Gray of Pelham Place, and Mr Charles Strive, a retired chief officer of the Blatchington coastguard, presented themselves, and they very obligingly, together with others, rendered valuable assistance in securing the balloon.

On this being effected, the detective rushed up to Harry Goodall with great glee and shook hands.

“Well, Warner, what is the news?”

“F. has baffled us, sir, up to the present time, but he is believed to be not far off. C. has escaped in a fishing-lugger. I saw him put off in a boat, but the French craft weighed anchor immediately and set sail, so that I could not overtake him.”

“I don’t know of whom you are speaking,” said Mr Strive, “but I saw a man put off to the lugger, and I noticed him particularly, as I saw at a glance that he was not a pilot from his gait, let alone what he carried. The little fellow had a black leather bag, not at all what a seaman would have owned. I was on the old battery fore-shore; he seemed to be afraid lest the sea should get into his bag.”

“I was too far off to notice that,” said Warner, “but I am sure he was Eben, Mr Goodall.”

“We have picked up important news, Tom,” said the aeronaut to Trigger.

“You’re just about right, sir,” said Tom.

“And you are ready to go along with us, Warner, just as you are?”

“I am fully prepared, sir, and have my warrants, handcuffs and dusting-irons in this bag, and am ready for one or both of them if we can see them on the other side, or overhaul them on the high seas.”

“Jump in, then, while Trigger puts out ballast equal to your weight. What do you scale, Warner?” asked Mr Goodall.

“About eleven stone, sir.”

“Then chuck out six sand bags, Tom, when I tell you, but, first, I should like to thank our friends here for their kind assistance.” Turning to them, he remarked “that they could do him one or two little favours if they would be so obliging.”

“Name them,” said Mr Strive.

“In the first place, please to bring in that grapnel, Mr Gray, and if you are going to Newhaven, I will thank you to call on the harbour-master and just tell him what you have seen; and if you can pick up and tell him anything more about the Wedwell Park fugitives, do so.”

“I read something about them in a Sussex paper,” said Blucher Gray.

“What sort of man was the other one who is missing?” asked the fly man, Trimmons.

“A fine, tall-looking man,” said Harry Goodall, “the very reverse of the fellow we are now in pursuit of.”

“It strikes me very forcibly,” said Blucher Gray, scratching his head in a reflective way, “that the captain of the French lugger is a person I know.”

“Then just dot his name down on paper,” cried Warner.

“Now, can you tell us, Mr Strive,” asked the aeronaut, “if that lugger had anything peculiar in her rig and cut by which we may be better able to make her out from aloft?”

“Certainly. Here I will sketch you an outline of her general appearance, and the number on her sails, sir, and I don’t fancy that you will see many fishing luggers crossing the Channel so soon after last night’s gale. You will make her out, therefore, the more easily; but with the fresh northerly breeze she will be a long way ahead of you.”

“Precisely. I am allowing for that, Mr Strive, but a balloon will travel very fast in this fresh upper current into which we shall soon mount. Perhaps one or other of you may hear of the other party who is wanted. And do, please, accept my best thanks for your valuable hints, gentlemen,” said Harry Goodall.

“Come here, fly man,” said Warner to Dick Trimmons. “I haven’t paid you for the lift you gave me. Take the coin now, and please tell me who the gent was you took over, as you told me, so early to Newhaven?”

“I don’t know his name; he is a stranger in Seaford, but now I come to think of it, he is uncommonly like the tall gentleman you’re after.”

“How was he dressed?”

“He looked like a yachtsman, sir.”

“There is a yacht lying in the harbour,” said Mr Strive, “but I don’t think Trimmons’s fare was anyone you’re looking for.”

“Don’t know so much about that,” said Warner.

“I’m not myself sure,” said Harry Goodall, “but you can mention the fact to the harbour-master, Gray.”

“All right, sir.”

“I would recommend you now, gentlemen,” said Mr Strive, “to make the most of your time, and if we can hear anything that will assist you, either of us can give information where it will be thankfully received, without mentioning localities or names.”

“A good idea,” cried Mr Goodall. “And now, do you happen to have a road-side inn near here?”

“Yes, sir, there is the ‘Buckle’ close at hand, a nice, snug, road-side house of call.”

“Well, please to refresh these helps with this sovereign’s worth of whatever they like best to ask for. I suppose they have teetotal drinks at the ‘Buckle?’”

“Yes, all sorts there, sir.”

The ex-chief officer then cried out,—

“Three cheers, you men!”

And away went the aeronaut in excellent spirits. Warner, when asked how he liked the outlook and the pace at which they bowled along, replied,—

“Not so fast, is it, Mr Goodall?”

“It may not seem so to a novice,” said the aeronaut, “but if you keep your eye on those two full-rigged ships in the distance, and then look back at the ‘Buckle’ Inn, Warner, you will soon see the rate at which we are moving.”

Warner had his own binocular, and used it as if he were accustomed to aerial reconnoitring but the increasing extent of the sea-scape, together with the rapid movement of the balloon from the shore, and the nearer approach of the shipping in their eight miles distance from the coast, soon convinced the anxious detective that they were going much faster than he supposed.

Tom Trigger kept his eye on Warner, while Harry Goodall studied his map and instruments, not that Tom thought their bold passenger would fall overboard or funk, but he feared that the aerial detective might tread upon the armoury which had been stowed away so carefully beneath a canvas covering before they left Wedwell Park.

Presently Warner’s attention was called to the firearms by a timely caution, for Simon kept turning himself round with a jerk, first on one tack and then on another, as if he could scarcely make out whether they were going back to the Sussex coast or making straightway for mid-Channel.

It was owing to the occasional rotation of the balloon on her own axis that he became so bewildered, and he acknowledged, when the cause was explained to him, that one required a knowledge of practical ballooning to decide the line of advance in the air. It was the rotary motion which made him lose sight of the two ships which he was searching for.

“They have disappeared,” said the aeronaut, in a joke.

“Foundered do you mean, sir?” asked Simon.

“No, but they have turned up behind us.”

On looking back towards the coast, Warner found that they had passed over them in about twenty minutes from the time they left. He then knew that they were going ahead without giving much sign as to their progress, so far as motion or unpleasant sensation were concerned.

“If that is the way big ships are dodging about,” cried Warner, “I must keep a sharp lookout for the lugger.”

“Yes,” said the aeronaut, “and I am instructing you how to do so, though I have no expectations of seeing her yet.”

“If they show fight, sir, we shall present a fine target.”

“Decidedly, Simon, but we shall be able to defend ourselves, and then, you know, we have the advantage of a more elevated position, even if we close with them. Besides, you see those outside contrivances?”

“What about them, Mr Goodall?”

“Oh, a great deal. That canvas bag, or cone, can be lowered so as to check our speed, or bring us to on the water, and the other device is to deflect our course, either one way or the other, if we have to drop upon them when the wind is not altogether fair; and then the two combined will furnish us with a fair amount of steering power, if once we lower near the sea, but without dipping into it, Simon.”

“That may be another vital point, sir,” said the detective.

“Yes, and I will tell you of a third. In the event of a scrimmage, we can hoist that lee-board to afford us protection.”

“That may be one more vital consideration, sir. But dare we use firearms under a balloon? Would not the gas become ignited?”

“If we were to blaze away up here it might, but not if we board the lugger under fire, Simon. Do you follow me?”

“I do, sir, without turning a hair, and only wish we had the chance of doing so.”

“You will clearly understand, my plucky friend, that should we swoop down a few thousand feet and come to close quarters, the gas in the lower part of the balloon would shrink, because the atmosphere is heavier on the surface of our planet, and there, if no gas was in the lower portion of our balloon none could pass out to risk an explosion, so that down below arms of precision could be discharged in safety.”

“There’s more to learn in ballooning, Mr Goodall, than a lot of people think of, and I can see now that your plans for guiding might prove, in actual conflict, more reliable than one-half of these pretended inventions for flying and dodging about an enemy and destroying London by dynamite.”

“Yes, it won’t do in aeronautics, Warner, to have much to do with flight, unless you can do it quickly and safely, if I may pun a bit among ourselves up here, for unless you can make a masterly retreat, or an unseen approach in a balloon, it becomes, as you said just now, a sightly target, and is more likely to be brought down by marksmen from below, than for roving riflemen to hit while aloft, or to do harm when they are flicking about hither and thither, and having it sharp themselves, perhaps, between wind and gas.”

“Ay, under the flank, sir, you mean, in a tender and vital part; but how, then, shall we fare, sir, if we have to chastise the crew of the lugger if they don’t surrender Croft?”

“If we attempt that we shall be at a low elevation and almost stationary. Even then I should not think of wasting an ounce of powder or shot, unless we were first attacked and driven to act on the defensive.”

“You haven’t told Warner, Mr Goodall,” said Tom Trigger, who had been thoroughly enjoying the rehearsal, “that besides all sorts of firearms, we are provided with an air-gun.”

“A most suitable weapon, I should say,” replied the detective, “for with that you might wing or disable them without making a noise, which might be a further vital point, sir; but as to myself, Mr Goodall, I beg to say that I am provided with my own bull-dog.”

“Revolver, you mean, I suppose?”

“I sit corrected, sir, and need not produce my pistol in evidence.”

“No, don’t do that if it is charged, Simon.”

“It is as empty, sir, as my poor stomach, which, to tell you the truth, Mr Goodall, has had nothing solid in it for fifteen hours at least, and what with looking for Croft last evening and for the balloon this morning, I have entirely neglected myself.”

“No doubt Warner is as hungry as a hunter, sir,” said Trigger, as if he were saying one word for the detective and two for himself.

“Warner is a hunter, Tom, and will do honour to the chase; but pipe to breakfast—I had forgotten what we had in store—and give Warner a dash of cognac with a bottle of aerated water to begin with.”

“Never mind the water, Mr Goodall, I am pretty well aerated already; but what with the sea air and the bright prospects before us, I can do some of that tempting-looking tongue and the corned beef that Trigger has produced.”

“They were thoughtfully provided by Squire Dove,” said the aeronaut.

“Then here’s good luck to him and to us all, and may we collar Croft and recover the squire’s stolen property.”

“We will gladly join in that sentiment,” said Mr Goodall, “and I will either keep Warner company by feeding, or abstain like Tom Trigger.”

“Don’t talk about my abstaining, sir, for it is as much as ever I can do to keep my hands off these good things, that is, until I’m told to start.”

“Let us all hands go ahead then, steward, for I have often read that Englishmen can fight and work quite as well on a full as an empty stomach, and I hope that the raised pie and the tongue will not dim our sight, even if they diminish our hunger.”

“I can see further now, sir, than I could half an hour back,” cried Warner, as he looked towards Tom to have his glass replenished.

“I know you can see into your tumbler,” said Trigger, “and that it is empty.”

“Cease firing your jokes, you two, and lend me your glass, Warner,” cried Harry Goodall, as he shaded his eyes with one hand. “Be serious now, my lads, for I can see the French coast, and a mist is rising behind it.”

“The wind over the land seems very variable,” said Trigger. “Look at the smoke from those steamers, Mr Goodall.”

“Any doubt about our popping across, sir?” asked the detective.

“Not unless the upper current in which we are bowling along changes,” said Harry Goodall. “In that case we may not fetch the land where we expected to do.”

“If I can only cast my eyes on Croft, and place the handcuffs round his wrists, I don’t mind a ducking, sir,” said Warner.

“Don’t forget that he is as slippery as an eel, Warner,” cried the aeronaut, whose telescope was directed on some small vessel in the distance.

“It grows darker over the land, sir!” said Trigger.

“It does, Tom, and that is why we shall have all our work to do in sighting the lugger before the sea fog envelopes her, that is, if she is, as we suppose, between us and the French coast.”

CHAPTER XX
THE FIGHT IN THE FOG

To be exposed to the risk of disappointment when the intrepid voyagers were two-thirds of their way across the Channel was terribly annoying. Their failure or success, seemed to depend on the fickle wind, but Harry Goodall did not lose heart, being confident in his own prowess and resources, and being buoyed up with reminiscences of his own good luck on previous occasions, especially under the circumstances attending his arrival in Wedwell Park.

Harry Goodall assured his companions, therefore, that all the time the wind was blowing from a northerly direction, they could pass on into France, even if they had to allow the fishing-lugger to slip out of their grasp, as she might do, if Croft saw the balloon advancing in pursuit of him. The great point they had to study was this, could they get sight of the French craft before the thick mist that was gathering over the coast, covered the interval of sea that was before them?

“We are now, I should guess,” said Harry Goodall, “about twelve miles from Dieppe, and we are inclining to the southward of that port. We must therefore strain every nerve to ‘spot’ the lugger.”

“Hold on, sir!” cried Trigger. “What do you make of that vessel further down to our right?”

“By Jove, Tom! Here hand me over Mr Strive’s sketch while Warner looks at her with his glass. He knows more about her than we do.”

“That’s she right enough,” exclaimed the detective, “and I can actually make out her number—365.”

“Well, then, that’s the vessel to a certainty, Warner. And, I say, just look at that steamer, miles away, coming from the north; you see that her smoke is drifting towards us, which clearly shows that the wind has changed below. Still, we are holding our own up here, and we are moving towards France.”

“Do you notice, sir,” said Trigger, “how fast the fog is bearing down on the lugger?”

“Yes, you’re right; I have been observing that, Tom, for some minutes past, and I noticed, too, that they have somewhat altered their course. Depend upon it, Croft has seen the balloon, and is trying to make for Havre, but we are moving that way too, which will favour the scheme I now intend to adopt.”

“The lugger,” said Warner, “Will be hidden by the fog in a few minutes, Mr Goodall.”

“So much the better,” replied the aeronaut, “and my mind is now fully made up what to do before the fog lifts, and if we drop quickly, but fail to grapple with her, we can re-ascend into the higher current and pass into France. I have well calculated our distance, and intend to descend on the other side of her, in fact, between her and the coast, because then the easterly breeze below will carry us towards her, exactly on the side they won’t expect to see us, and should we not be running absolutely straight on to her, we can make the necessary divergence by means of the drag and deflector. Do you follow me, Warner?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Right. Well, now, I will let out gas and make a swoop through the fog, so be ready, Tom, with the drag, and you, Warner, must stand by and be prepared to unship sand at a moment’s notice.”

A rather rapid drop was then made, Harry Goodall having calculated that he would break through the mist at about a mile, more or less, to the east of the lugger, when the breeze off the French coast would facilitate his project.

“Smothereens!” cried Warner, “but we’re in the fog now, and no mistake.”

“Silence, there,” enjoined Harry Goodall, in hushed but decisive tones. “Be ready with the sand.”

A few moments of perfect quiet ensued, then came the word of command.

“Let go your drag, Tom.”

“Out it is, sir, and has struck the water. Ah! she’s checked now.”

“Yes, that’s all right,” whispered the aeronaut, “but we want just a little more ballast overboard, or we may touch the waves. You see we have to get a proper equilibrium, Warner, between our ascensional power and the drag of our water anchor. And now,” said Harry Goodall, with bated breath, “it is a case of hit or miss. Keep perfectly still, for we must listen for their voices.”

For some time the party careered along at about a hundred feet above the waves, which had become less rough, so that the balloon was comparatively steady, though their motion could be felt as the drag rose and dipped in the water.

“We can’t see far ahead,” said Warner, in an undertone.

“No, we shall have to be guided by sound, and the less we say, Simon, the more we may hear,” replied Goodall to the detective, whose conversational powers were difficult to restrain.

For the next half hour they were in a state of suspense and uncertainty, not knowing whether they had overshot their mark, or were going too far north or south to be within measurable distance of the lugger.

Trigger busied himself with a coil of rope, which he first fastened to the hoop, and, after doing so, he divested himself of his coat and boots; he then attached the other end of the rope round his waist, which amused Mr Goodall and Warner, especially the latter, who wanted to know what he was preparing for.

“A miss would be as bad as a mile,” whispered Tom. “We might give her a close shave and yet pass by her. In that case I would go down the rope and try to hook on to the lugger where I could, being a pretty good swimmer.”

“A good idea, Tom,” said Harry Goodall; “but you forget that when we lost your weight the balloon would suddenly spring up, and we might leave you below. Still, I credit you with being ready for any kind of service in order to grapple with the lugger. The great point now,” added the aeronaut, “is to lower the lee-board in the event of being compelled to deflect one way or other, so we may as well do so at once and see how it acts. You can pay away that fore rope, my lad, as we can still draw ahead, and check her if necessary when we like.”

“They wouldn’t hear us do it, would they, sir?” asked Warner.

“Oh, no, or else we should be equally able to hear them. That board, you see, will cause us to sway to starboard or to port.”

“Hush, sir!” said the detective, in a whisper, “I fancied I heard a voice not far off.”

“Yes, you’re right, Warner—softly,” added Trigger, “I distinctly heard someone speaking.”

“And so do I,” said Harry Goodall, under his breath. “They are straight ahead, and are doubtless all unconscious of our proximity. We are gaining on them,” said Goodall, after a lapse of a few seconds. “Slack that lee-board line, Tom. Can’t you see her sails. We must bear more south, for the fog lifts a trifle, and it won’t do to be seen. And put your boots and coat on, Tom; you will not have to wet yourself after all. The great point now is whether she is the right craft or not? Heave on this line both of you—steady, Warner.”

“That gleam of sunshine will help us,” whispered Trigger.

“I heard a voice just now,” said Warner, “very much like Croft’s.”

“Hush!” muttered Harry Goodall. “Don’t you see the number on her sails faintly looming in the distance?”

“We’re getting pretty near them,” whispered Warner. “Listen to what is said.”

“I will pay you extra, skipper, if you land me at Havre.”

“That’s Croft, the Pocket Hercules, speaking, I’ll be sworn, sir,” said the detective.

“Not a word more! We’re within an ace of running into them, but they are looking the other way.”

“Are you steering for Havre, skipper?” asked a voice very like Croft’s on board the lugger.

“I comprend vat you say, monsieur,” said the skipper, “but ve must vait ontil de mist rise; ve are long vay from Dieppe, and vy you go to Havre?”

“That’s no business of your’s, skipper; you take me there!” cried Croft.

“Oui, oui, mais mon Dieu! vat is that? A round ship or de sun?”

“By jingo!” cried Croft, “that’s that cussed balloon! Look here,” exclaimed the fugitive, “I’ll give anyone on board a fiver for a loaded rifle.”

“My crew no fight or ve may get into trouble,” cried the skipper. “Pere-haps dat is a varbalon from my contree, it come dat vay from the east.”

“I know where it comes from, skipper,” cried Croft. “If I only had a gun—”

“Here you are, monsieur,” said a fierce-looking fellow, who did not look like one of the crew. “It is fully loaded. And I say,” he added in an undertone, “I am taking explosives to Paris for the glorious Anarchist cause. Will one of our little dynamite bons-bons suit you?”

“Yes, brother of my heart,” said Croft, “and if you can chuck it up high enough, your fortune is made, but don’t blow yourself up in a vain attempt that will fail. After all, it would be safer to trust to ordinary firearms rather than these new-fangled concerns.”

On hearing this conversation, Trigger at once loaded the guns, handing the air-gun to Mr Goodall, who was intent on thinking out a plan to check the skipper from putting his helm up and so avoiding the balloon.

Harry Goodall’s idea was to lower their grapnel a few feet and give it a pendulum-like swing so that it should stand a better chance, by describing a larger area, of coming in contact with the spars and rigging.

“I’m afraid, sir,” said Trigger, “there will be bloodshed.”

“Well, we must avoid it if possible, Tom,” replied his master.

“Don’t kill Croft,” said the detective; “I want particularly to take him alive.”

A moment afterwards Croft and the French Anarchist were seen to raise their guns to the shoulder. A flash followed, and Warner was grazed by something on the forehead, while Tom had been hit in the leg. And the rattle on the wicker basket-work of the car indicated that they had been fired at with slugs.

“I say this is getting a little too hot, Mr Goodall,” cried Trigger. “Look, sir, at that French villain climbing up to cut away our grapnel.”

“Shall I fetch him down with my bull-dog?” asked Warner.

“I thought you wanted to take him alive?”

“That’s true, sir, but another fellow wants to cut us adrift, and I shall lose them altogether.”

But Trigger’s blood was up, and before his master could restrain him he had fired, and immediately a man was seen to slip down the rattlings.

“I’ve dusted him in the stern sheets, anyway.”

“Yes, you’ve marked him, Trigger, but I hope not seriously.”

Then an excited conversation took place between the skipper and the wounded man, but the aeronauts could not hear the actual words. But whatever they were, their effect was that the little Anarchist dropped some package overboard, and then, picking himself up, he retreated with Croft behind an improvised barricade of cases which were on the fore-deck of the lugger, while the skipper and his crew grouped themselves astern, evidently as non-belligerents.

Then Harry Goodall called on the skipper to surrender Croft, but, to the aeronaut’s surprise, the skipper made no reply. Thereupon Warner prepared for further action, while Trigger popped into Bennet’s double-barrelled breach-loader two more cartridges of No. 8 shot.

Taking his cue from Croft and the Anarchist, Goodall proceeded to hoist the lee-board over the edge of the car, so as to be even with their opponents when they renewed their attack, for it appeared as though they intended to do so, as their duck guns had been reloaded, and Croft had placed his leather bag, which was supposed to contain the squire’s property, in a snug place by his side; but his companion was writhing with pain, owing to the peppering his legs and back had received from Trigger. Possibly he was not seriously hurt, but his vows of vengeance on Tom Trigger and his companions, were truly horrible to listen to. Evidently it had not been believed that the aeronauts were able to make such a stout retaliation.

Presently the loud shriek of a fog horn was heard, as though a steamer were approaching through the mist.

Croft, as if startled at the sound, decided upon immediate action, believing probably in the badness of his own cause, and fearing the approach of those who might lend assistance to the aeronauts.

“Now or never!” he said to his fierce associate, “let them have it,” and another volley was discharged at the balloonists, but they had kept their bodies well behind the board; and as Harry Goodall could just discern a steam vessel looming through the fog, he at once ordered Trigger and Warner not to return the fire, especially as someone could be distinctly heard hailing them in English.

“Ship ahoy! What’s amiss?” asked someone. “What’s all this firing about? Is there mutiny on board?”

“Blowed if there ain’t a balloon hitched on to the lugger,” exclaimed another voice before Goodall could reply.

“If you will send a boat, I’ll explain matters,” said Goodall. “What ship are you?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll have a boat manned. Hold on. I am Link, the captain. This is the Retriever from London.”

“What! my dear old friend Link, by all that’s wonderful. I’m Harry Goodall. Well, this is a bit of luck and no mistake.”

The situation now became still more exciting, for Croft, who heard what had been said, rushed out of ambush, bag in hand, and looked as if he were either going to jump overboard or throw his bag into the sea. Hereupon, Harry Goodall immediately levelled his air-gun and sent a pellet through Croft’s left arm, which was extended with a swinging motion, causing him at once to drop the bag. Then Goodall made a dash for the deck of the lugger by slipping down a rope, he scarcely knew how, being followed by Warner, while Trigger compensated for their loss of weight by discharging gas very freely. The detective at once confronted Croft, produced his warrant and slipped on the handcuffs, while Goodall held a revolver menacingly; as he did so, Captain Link and his crew, who had steamed up nearer to them, witnessed this proceeding, and a ringing cheer was given when Harry Goodall held up for their inspection the black bag which held the stolen cash, the deeds and other securities.

The Retriever’s life-boat had by this time brought Captain Link alongside the lugger, and he quickly sprang on deck. The meeting there was naturally one of great cordiality.

During their hasty consultation, the balloon had risen clear of all surrounding obstacles to the full length of the grapnel rope, and was swaying over towards the steamer’s stern. But the crew gradually hauled in the rope, in accordance with Trigger’s instructions, while he opened the top valve.

“So I have just arrived in time to give you a lift into Cherbourg, my dear Goodall,” said Link, “but we must take this fellow Croft on board at once. Here, Warner, you had better take off these handcuffs; the fellow’s arms seem injured, though not fractured, I think. He can’t escape, you know. How about this other man?” added Captain Link, who did not like the look of the Anarchist, and thought that as he had been warmly peppered in the legs and back by Trigger’s dust shot, he might be left behind.

“He stay wid me,” cried the skipper. “You no punish him more.”

“I have a second warrant,” said Warner, who now had Croft in the boat.

“Oui, oui,” said the skipper, “but not for my contreeman.”

“I only wish I could meet with Croft’s master; I’ve a word or two to say to him,” said the detective.

“Eh, vat you mean—Croft’s master? Is it Maester Fallcone you mean?” asked the skipper.

“You shut up, skipper,” cried Croft, with a murderous expression of face. “You have too long a tongue.”

“Hadn’t the skipper better come along with us on board the Retriever and explain matters?” said Captain Link.

“Yes, I go vit you,” observed the skipper. “I no fear dat fellow,” pointing to Croft, already in the boat, “nor his grand maitre.”

“Well, come and talk things over,” said Harry Goodall. “But how about this Anarchist? Are you hurt, my man?”

“Sacré! Mort au bourgeoisie!” was his sole reply.

“He no run avay; pere-haps I vant him soon,” said the skipper. “He is a good sailor, but a fool to do vit dy-nam-mite and bomb-shell.”

“I may have to run you into Cherbourg,” said Captain Link. “We must talk it over on board.”

“See you here, monsieur capitaine,” replied the skipper, as Croft was put below hatches on board the Retriever, “you vant to meet the little man’s maister, don’t you? Den de first ting is to let me and the luggare go.”

“I don’t quite see that,” said Harry Goodall.

“Come on board, skipper, and have a glass of Burgundy,” urged Captain Link, diplomatically.

“Oh, certamong monsieur capitaine, aprèz vous. I vant to go avay in my luggare, and you vant, I tink, Maître Fallcone to com to you; vary vell. Vat is so, is it not?”

Warner, who had locked up his prisoner safely, then joined the party in the cabin, where the skipper was gesticulating over his wine and slapping his forehead, as if he had conceived a bright idea.

Warner’s quick brain at once realised the situation, and, taking up a slate and pencil near him, he wrote down these words, handing them to Mr Goodall and the captain,—

“Cut short the palaver by making him a liberal offer in cash.”

Captain Link, however, did not wholly approve of this short off-hand way of proceeding, and said to the Frenchman,—

“If we take you into Cherbourg, skipper, we could—”

But Goodall cut in with,—

“We could there come to terms about arranging an interview with Mr Falcon, but, since time is pressing, can’t you see your way clear to agree at once, skipper, to accept one hundred pounds—ten on account to-day—in consideration of fulfilling our wishes?”

“Oui, oui; I do dat dis moment for I know where Fallcone is located, and can do—vat you call it?”

“Lead him,” suggested Goodall.

“Ah, grand, monsieur. Lead him or pilot him to exchange complements wid you—say if you tink it vel—about tree mile from Cherbourg Harbour.”

“In your lugger, skipper?”

“No, no, in quite annudder sheep.”

“That will do capitally, skipper,” said Captain Link, “but you must let us know the day and the hour as near as possible.”

“I do all dat, nevare fear. I vire you or write by poste. Au revoir,” said the Frenchman, as he pocketed the ten pounds.

“Your name, I think, skipper, is Captain Ami?”

“Oui; Poste Restant, Dieppe.”

“All right,” said Harry Goodall. “Well, remember the ninety pounds shall be forthcoming on your carrying out our bargain.”

“Vill dis veek suit you?”

“Certainly; the sooner the better. You had better address to Captain Link, the Retriever, Cherbourg Harbour. Adieu!”

CHAPTER XXI
RECONCILIATION AND RETROSPECTION

Although the letter from Mr William Goodall to Squire Dove, in which the merchant promised to visit them, proved consoling at Wedwell Hall, still the fate of the aeronauts was the great engrossing topic that grew in intensity hour after hour, so that reports of the vaguest kind were eagerly caught at by the gamekeeper and Lucy, who knew how deeply Miss Dove especially was concerned about Harry Goodall; nor was Lucy herself much less anxious as to Trigger, so that she took every opportunity of acquiring each scrap of information that she could gather, both as to where the balloon had descended and whether Croft had been arrested or any information had been obtained as to his whereabouts.

One of the earliest, if not reliable, sources of intelligence was generally to be met with in the person of Doctor Peters, who was an inveterate newspaper reader, subscribing to many of the metropolitan and local papers. Knowing this, Bennet, who was very eager for news, determined to waylay the doctor. Meeting him on the confines of the park with a newspaper in his hand, he at once accosted him after touching his hat,—

“Any stirring news this morning, sir?” asked the gamekeeper.

“Yes, there’s something fresh,” replied the doctor, “though I daresay that you and others have heard it.”

“It will be news to me at all events,” replied Bennet.

“Well, then, I’ll read you the paragraph which the Daily Post gives:—

“‘A Fishing-Lugger’s Strange Adventure.—A remarkable report reached Dieppe yesterday that the French lugger, No. 365, was attacked off the coast by a party of English aeronauts, who, representing themselves as emissaries of justice, arrested a passenger named Croft in the name of the law. It may be remembered that the prisoner is wanted, together with his confederate Falcon, on various criminal charges. Our report is furnished by the captain of the Retriever, who stood by and gave assistance. Further details will be at hand shortly!’”

“Well, to be sure!” cried Bennet, “that is news indeed.”

“I should just think it is, Bennet. Well, you can take the newspaper and show it to them at the Hall. I sha’n’t go up myself, as the squire is so strangely incensed against me. He seems to think I still support those miscreants; however, he would change his mind if he would listen to a few important details I could tell him. Just look, there goes the postman. Follow him up, Bennet; I daresay he may bring some startling intelligence.”

Notwithstanding the gamekeeper’s agreeable surprise at the doctor’s change of mind, which he was at some loss to understand, he did not waste time in speculation, but hurried up to the Hall and found that the newspaper paragraph had been seen and discussed, and that its effect on the squire was the reverse of agreeable, especially as a letter from Newhaven was of a less sensational character. His informant advised him not to pay much attention to what the reporters had written as a great deal of fiction had been mixed up with a modicum of fact.

“There can be little doubt,” said the correspondent, “that the balloon and a French lugger, which was believed to contain Croft, were engaged, but there was another fugitive on board, though not Falcon, I regret to say. It is impossible at present to say whether your property was saved or not, though I am disposed to think that it was, after a sharp contest, in which two of the three balloonists were slightly wounded, although they came off the victors in the end.”

Edith Dove and Miss Chain, as well as Lucy, were naturally much depressed by the news, but the squire, on the other hand, stoutly maintained that there was nothing in what they had heard to cause anxiety. In this state of affairs, the receipt of several telegrams was joyfully welcomed.

Miss Dove’s was from Harry Goodall. It said,—

“Have reached Cherbourg and captured C. en route. Hope soon to arrest F. before returning. Excuse more at present.”

“Well, that’s short and sweet enough!” exclaimed the squire. “Edith, no doubt Harry does not think it safe to say more, fearing that the French authorities might detain him.”

“Or worse, papa, he may be badly wounded and too ill to write, and, out of consideration for my feelings, tries to disguise the fact.”

“Not he, Edith. How could he continue the chase for Falcon if he—”

“Well, well, let’s hope for the best. Now, dear Miss Chain, let us hear yours.”

“Mine is from Captain Link, dear. There, read it yourself.”

“Just witnessed spirited, glorious engagement between the balloon party and a French lugger. Have caught Croft. On the track of the other. Returning shortly.”

“Hurray! God bless them!” exclaimed the squire. “But who’s that snivelling?”

“Lucy in the next room, papa.”

“Come in here, Lucy,” cried the squire. “What’s amiss with you?”

“Please, sir, my telegram says that Trigger’s wounded.”

“Nonsense, girl, let me read it.”

“Croft taken with the swag. Am wounded but nothing serious.”

“There’s nothing to cry about in that, Lucy, my good girl. I daresay his wound is a mere scratch.”

“And no doubt, squire,” said Miss Chain, who was much reassured since the receipt of her telegram, “that they had good reasons for being brief and cautious, as they have taken their prisoners and prize into Cherbourg.”

“Quite so, Miss Chain,” cried the squire. “I daresay they have, and, of course, they have to be cautious that they don’t give themselves away in the matter. The fact is, they have engaged in a deucedly delicate matter.”

“Oh, please, sir, do you think Tom will come back on crutches?” asked Lucy.

“More likely, girl, with flying colours and lots of prize money,” said the squire, laughingly.

The ladies then took a stroll in the park, taking much comfort in each other’s society. But they were again considerably upset by noticing on their return, that the squire was rather agitated. Directly he saw his daughter, he asked her, excitedly, if Lucy could take a letter of importance to Newhaven as Bennet could not be spared? He added that Doctor Peters was ill and wished to see him in order to make a communication that permitted no delay.

“Very well, papa, if you really must send Lucy; and pray see the poor old doctor at once. I wonder what he has to say?”

We must now turn to Hawksworth and his actions. He had heard just enough, both at Haywards Heath and elsewhere, about the fugitive financier and his supposed whereabouts to induce him to have another attempt to capture Falcon, as the detective had been told that he was evading the police, and that Warner had been on a wild-goose chase after him, and had failed. So Hawksworth set out for the south coast with the idea of redeeming his waning reputation, and he resolved that he would leave no stone unturned to effect his capture, especially as he held warrants for the arrest of the financier and for Croft, respecting some Australian doings and other charges relating to crimes on the high seas.

Hawksworth left London with his usual jaunty air of confidence, which was one of his weak points, and another was his susceptibility to the charms of the fair sex. It was in endeavouring to make himself agreeable to Miss Chain, and to ingratiate himself with that young lady, that he made that fatal mistake at the Crystal Palace, in fancying that Captain Link was Filcher Falcon, merely because he personally resembled him to some extent. However, had he known the particulars of Warner’s pursuit of the fugitives, he would probably have felt less confident in his mission, which subsequent events—but we must not anticipate.

CHAPTER XXII
TIGHTENING THE NET

On the squire’s making up his mind to visit Doctor Peters, he elected to do so privately from the park by way of the lane. On his arrival, he found his medical adviser reclining on an old-fashioned couch and looking a most dejected object.

“I am truly sorry to see you down again with gout,” said the squire. “Don’t move, Peters; you must shake off this attack as soon as you can, for I am not feeling at all well myself,” said he, selfishly. “This robbery has greatly upset me. Of course you heard of it?”

“I did, squire, and wish to speak to you of a loss I have myself had.”

“I hope that you have not also fallen a victim to those rascals, doctor?”

“I have, though, and it occurred on the same night that we were all in the park, soon after Falcon and Croft entered your library, when, so far as I can make out by Maria’s evidence, the scoundrels finished up here. At last, squire, I have been convinced that my girl’s statement was only too true.”

“What led to the discovery, Peters?”

“The fact of not having been able to find the key of my skeleton case, though I searched high and low.”

“The same in which Falcon hid himself when Warner paid you a visit?”

“Yes, the identical one, and, worse luck, my cash box was inside. I never gave it a thought when I put the rascal there. Well, the villain’s sharp eyes must have ‘spotted’ it, for it has disappeared. What a plausible devil the fellow is to be sure—so fair spoken, and, egad! even liberal at times. I don’t wonder that he entertained some ideas about aerial flight.”

“You must excuse my laughing, doctor.”

“You may well do so, squire, though to me it is no laughing matter, I can assure you, for I had drawn out of the bank some years’ savings to entrust him with, as you had done with your capital, but I hung fire in letting him have mine for a while; in fact, I had only handed it over a day before the balloonists arrived.”

“What made you do so, Peters?”

“Why, your own great faith in him before the real and unexpected aerial visitors came.”

“But afterwards you believed in him, doctor?”

“I defended Falcon in his absence, but, while doing so, I never supposed that he had robbed you and me too. But, alas, when I could not find the key of my skeleton case, I broke it open and found that I had been plundered, and, without doubt, by those rascals after they had shot at Mr Goodall and entered your library.”

“Well, believe me, you have my sincerest sympathy; but loss it shall never be to you if I can help it. And though we were opposed for a time in our views about this rascal, we are at length of one mind as to making haste to discover Falcon’s hiding-place. I am told that you have given notice yourself to the police of his treachery, so that you are entirely exonerated from the slightest suspicion of collusion in any way with him.”

“Beyond that silly telegram I sent to Sydenham, when I vainly fancied that it would bring him back to you, squire.”

“You clearly mistook your man, doctor, and so did I, and if you had heard all that the aeronauts said in disfavour of Falcon, you would not have been so—”

“Pig-headed—that’s the word, squire. I can see it now, but feel that it is never too late to mend.”

“God bless you, Peters, and speedily restore you; but rouse yourself, old friend, for who knows but what your property and mine may not yet be brought back to us through the brave exertions of Harry Goodall and his friends.”

“I trust they will, and now allow me, squire, to thank you sincerely for this visit; it has eased my mind and will make me better able to bear this attack of gout, if not to cure it.”

“One word at parting, doctor, I have not long heard that Falcon has been seen on board a boulder boat, and a later addition is that he was taken up afterwards by a smack with a view of working round to Folkestone or Boulogne. Lucy has gone off to Newhaven with a letter, and to gather further intelligence.”

“Well, well, I hope he will be caught before long, squire. Good-bye, good-bye.”

Meanwhile, Lucy had reached Lewes in a light trap. Directly she alighted, she made her way to the platform from which the Newhaven train started, and, while descending the steps, she was asked by a gentlemanly-looking person, evidently in a great state of excitement, “If he was in time for the tidal train?”

“Oh, yes, plenty, sir, and to spare,” said Lucy. “It won’t leave for twenty minutes, though I don’t really know if it is the boat train.”

“I am so glad,” said the gentleman, “for I am rather in a dilemma.”

“You are not the only traveller in that state, sir,” replied Lucy.

“No, I expect not. The fact is, I want to be in Newhaven as soon as I can, and I wanted, before doing so, to visit a park near here where a balloon descended some short time since.”

“Do you mean Wedwell Park, sir?”

“Yes, that’s it. How far is it from here?”

“Some distance, sir; you would have to take a conveyance.”

“Then I will go on to Newhaven, but, if I am not taking too great a liberty, might I ask if there is any definite news of a man named Falcon?”

“Oh, yes, sir, I can give you the latest information.”

“You can!” repeated her interrogator, with pleasurable astonishment expressed in every feature in his face. “What a bit of luck my meeting you!”

“Perhaps you are a detective?” said Lucy.

“Well, yes, I am. I will be fair and frank with you. My name is Hawksworth.”

“But, sir, possibly my latest information may be of little use to you.”

“Let me judge of that; the smallest clue sometimes leads to a capture.”

“Well, sir, I have been told that Mr Falcon has been seen on board a boulder boat, and that he was then transferred to a smack bound for Folkestone or Boulogne.”

“Really, your information is of the greatest importance, but you are not ‘kidding’ me, I hope? But no! you look too straightforward to do that. You won’t be offended if I ask your name and address, I hope?”

“Oh, dear, sir, I come from Wedwell Park, and my name is Lucy.”

“It is a pleasure to have made your acquaintance,” replied Hawksworth, gallantly. “Here! I say guard, what time does the train for Hastings go?”

“In about ten minutes, sir.”

“Then I must say good-bye,” said Hawksworth, taking off his hat. “I hope to meet you soon again.”

“Willingly, sir.”

When Lucy had ensconced herself in a railway carriage for Newhaven, she was glad to be alone, for her face was flushed, and she began to have misgivings as to whether she had done the correct thing to tell a stranger what she had heard. At the same time, if the man was a detective—and she had heard Warner speak of such a name as Hawksworth—she had done the right thing at the right time, for she was eager that Falcon should be in custody. Just as Lucy was consoling herself with these thoughts, the guard’s whistle was blown and the train began to move. At the same moment, two men rushed into the carriage at some risk, though they apologised to Lucy, as the sole occupant, for causing her the least alarm. Seeing that the younger limped a little, she replied politely that she was not frightened at all, and trusted he had not hurt himself in getting in; but he assured her his lameness was not due to any such cause, but to a wound he had got when at sea. The stouter man seemed displeased at his companion’s effusiveness and checked him with a frown, while he addressed some observations to him in indifferent English, but Lucy understood him to say,—

“Nevare moind, mate, ve no fight on board de new ship Panthere, vhich is no luggare, I can tell you dat.”

The last spokesman looked like a seafaring man, who might be a captain. Presently his companion drew nearer to Lucy, but not offensively, and asked her if she had not been speaking to a gentleman at Lewes.

“I had seen the gentleman for the first time,” said Lucy.

“He go to Hastings, I tink,” said the skipper-looking person.

Lucy at once became very uncommunicative, but the younger man hazarded the remark that he thought the gentleman was in their train.

“Oh, vel, ve vil carry good news now on board,” said the stouter mariner, who took a good pull at his cognac flask and handed the bottle to his mate, who finished what was left.

At the Newhaven town station, these passengers got out, but Lucy went on to the further station, as she had to see the harbour-master, but she noticed that when the men got out, they seemed to speak to a middle-aged female and an elderly old lady, who seemed rather bewildered, and Lucy concluded that they were all going on board the Panther, which the sailors had alluded to. Lucy had a good stare at the old lady, as she was so uncommonly like Miss Chain’s mother, but she could not settle that doubtful point by speaking to her, as the train began to move on, so that the girl came to the conclusion that she had been mistaken.

At the harbour-master’s office, Lucy delivered her letter and stated that the squire and Miss Dove were very anxious as to the safety of the aerial voyagers. She was informed that they had not left Cherbourg, as some hitch had delayed them for a day or two. At the same time, said the harbour master, they might return unexpectedly. Lucy was then asked if the Doves were acquainted with a French captain, who was in the habit of visiting Newhaven, and who was supposed to be known to Mr Falcon. Lucy replied that she did not think so.

“I can tell you positively,” said the harbour master, “that the balloonists are safe, but I cannot tell you more at present beyond this, that Falcon is still baffling us all. There was a rumour, as I told the squire, that he had gone to Folkestone or Boulogne, but I now believe that he is secreted somewhere near here. Do you think that the squire or his daughter could come over in case of necessity?”

“I daresay, sir, that Miss Dove and her friend, Miss Chain, might be able to see you, but the squire is not very well, having been much upset by the robbery.”

“In that case you had better not repeat all I have told you, but rather leave my letter to speak for itself. And you will do well to hasten back.”

As Lucy was leaving the office she caught sight, for the second time that day, of a face which seemed familiar to her. But recognition was made difficult by reason of the individual wearing a blue blouse, like a working man from Normandy. However, he apparently had no doubts, for he sprang towards Lucy and held out his hand.

“Don’t you know me, Lucy?” said the foreign-looking man.

“Why, as I live, it is Simon Warner. Well, I am glad to see you, and how are Tom and Mr Goodall? Are they with you?”

“No; I am only over for an hour on most important business. Trigger is all right now, and so is Mr Goodall, but I have not long to stay here, for I am going back to Cherbourg by the next boat.”

“And how are Tom’s wounds? And hasn’t your face been injured, Mr Warner?” asked Lucy.

“Oh, never mind that; and as to Tom, he’s getting on all right.”

At this moment, Warner was summoned into the presence of the station-master, but before he left, he begged Lucy to give his duty to the squire and Miss Edith, while he confided a special message to the cook.

Lucy’s trip had been not an altogether uneventful one. She was particularly mystified by Warner’s being at Newhaven in disguise, yet she presumed there was more going on than was dreamt of in her humble philosophy.

CHAPTER XXIII
DECOYED

The latest news delivered by Lucy to Squire Dove, though designed to allay his distress of mind, was futile as to its effect, but Edith and Miss Chain were rejoiced to hear that the doctor and the squire were now reconciled. A missive of much stranger nature, however, arrived the next morning, and purported to emanate from the harbour-master’s office at Newhaven.

“Will Squire Dove kindly send his carriage over at one o’clock to-morrow to meet the Company’s agent at the new bridge, when Miss Dove and her companion will be in time to meet their friends from Cherbourg. No reply is expected, but the arrival of the ladies at the time specified, will be relied upon, when they will be met and conducted on board a steamer. In haste, to save the post.”

The squire was himself anxious to go, but his daughter prevailed upon him not to do so, owing to his health.

On the ladies arriving at the new bridge, they were met by a fashionably-dressed gentleman whom they supposed was the Company’s agent. He escorted the ladies with much politeness on board a fine-looking vessel lying close to the wharf, but higher up than the place where the steamers generally start from. They were then invited to the saloon, where luncheon was ready prepared for them. Then excusing himself on the ground that he had business to transact with their new captain and mate, he left them to their luncheon, stating that he would return as soon as he possibly could.

The steward was very attentive as he waited at table, and chatted with the ladies in an affable though perfectly respectful manner.

“Yes, ladies, we shall be slowly moving down the river to meet the vessel which, I understand, has your party of friends on board.”

“But we are surely passing out of the harbour,” remarked Miss Chain, in accents of astonishment.

“Just so, ladies,” said the steward; “the vessel has to be turned, and we may run out a short way to be able to swing her safely.”

“Isn’t that most unusual?” exclaimed Miss Dove.

“Not with a vessel of this class,” explained the steward.

“Oh, dear,” cried Miss Chain, “but we are passing into rough water.”

“There is a slight swell, ladies. It is caused by the tide. She will be steadier directly. Perhaps you would prefer to lie down?”

“Oh, no, no, we would sooner go on deck,” cried Edith Dove, not clearly understanding their position.

“If you ladies just keep quiet for one minute,” said the steward, “I will step up and ask the captain how far they are going to run out to meet the Dieppe boat before turning.”

“But isn’t this a passenger boat?” asked Miss Chain.

“Well, no, not exactly,” said the steward, with a smile which he seemed trying to suppress.

Then a strange thing happened, for a groan and a kind of hysterical scream were heard, and seemed to issue from a cabin not far away, as though some lady passenger was ill on board. And at the same moment a stewardess came into the saloon and tried to persuade Miss Dove and Miss Chain to lie down, and invited them to take some decoction, which she extolled as a certain specific against sea-sickness.

“Thank you, nothing of that sort. I really don’t understand where we are going, or what they are doing with the ship.”

“I am a stranger myself to the ship,” said the stewardess; “in fact, most of us are.”

“Do pray explain yourself more clearly, it will be better for you. There is, we think,” cried Miss Dove, in a state of alarm, “some mistake or mystery about our being here.”

Then another groan was heard.

“Poor, dear lady, she is bad; I must go to her,” said the stewardess, as she left the saloon.

Then Edith Dove and Miss Chain made a rush for the deck to ascertain what was going on, but the steward, however, who was descending the companion ladder, begged the ladies to keep below for a short while, stating that the captain was himself coming down. Shortly afterwards he appeared, accompanied by the mate. Both seemed to be Frenchmen, and the mate the only one who could speak English intelligibly.

“We are running out a longer distance than we thought of doing before we turn, as we wish to sight the Dieppe steamer before doing so.”

This statement did not at all satisfy the ladies, particularly as the man had a repulsive appearance, whilst he limped as though he was not quite sober. However, he soon moved off in search of more drink. Then the captain, touching his hat most respectfully, handed a folded paper, on which was written in English,—“I am Captain Ami, and if you have faith in me no harm will befall you.” Then, saluting the ladies, he left them without another word.

But this announcement was so strange and unaccountable that Edith Dove and Miss Chain, though to some extent relieved, were still in an alarming state of fright lest this Captain Ami might be an agent, not of the Harbour Company, but of the man they most dreaded, namely Falcon.

“Couldn’t we further test this man and insist on going on deck?” said Miss Chain.

“Certainly, dear, we will go.”

And no hindrance was made to their doing this. When they stood on deck, they looked round them, and discovered that they were already some distance from the shore. Scanning the people on board, they were at once attracted by the presence of a slouching figure, who kept entirely in the fore part of the vessel, while the captain and the mate chatted together near the wheel.

“Edith, dear, I can’t take my eyes off that horrid-looking man in the fore part of the vessel, who seems trying to avoid our inspection. Although he looks as dark as a mulatto, I believe it is none other than that arch-fiend Falcon.”

“Oh, Miss Chain, if that is so, we are undone, and you may depend that we have been kidnapped. That letter must have been a forgery, and not from the harbour-master’s agent at all.”

“Well, these men will not surely dare to offer us any insult. Perhaps they are holding us to ransom, trying to make terms so as to escape prosecution for the robbery of the securities. One thing is certain, we must not show the slightest sign of fear.”

“This vessel,” said Miss Dove, “is evidently a hired yacht.”

“And going,” added Miss Chain, “goodness knows where. Ah! there is that cry again from that poor woman! By the way, who can she be? Is she also in their power? Do you know, dear, that her voice seems oddly familiar to me. If it were not quite impossible, I would say it was my mother’s.”

“I told you, dear,” said Miss Dove, “that we had more trouble before us. What will my poor, dear father do, when we fail to return?”

“I am sure that God will help us, Miss Dove. Oh, listen to that poor sea-sick creature below.”

“Couldn’t you slip down in the saloon and speak to the stewardess about her, my dear Miss Chain?”

“We ought not to separate,” said her companion. “By the way, how are we off for money?”

“I have very little,” said Miss Dove.

“Suppose we try and get down in the saloon, then. I don’t suppose they will keep us below, or exercise restraint if we do not seem to be aware that we are entrapped.”

“Perhaps not; let us venture, Miss Chain.”

When they descended, they found that the stewardess was fully expecting their arrival, and had been in and out of the ladies’ cabin preparing for them, for there was a lumpy sea on and a nasty look outside the south coast in the direction they were going. They had not been down below many minutes before the groans of the poor sufferer were again heard. Then Miss Chain came close to Miss Dove and whispered to her,—

“Make some excuse to get the stewardess on deck with you; say that you want her arm to steady you as you can’t stop below. Say anything you like, but get the woman out of the way, for I intend to solve the mystery of those distressful cries myself, and learn the poor creature’s story.”

It was some little time before Miss Dove could carry out this stratagem, but at length she succeeded. They had no sooner disappeared, than Miss Chain approached the cabin where the sick woman lay. She had been locked in, but the key had been carelessly left in the door. No words can express Miss Chain’s horror and astonishment on beholding her dear mother, who, putting her finger to her lips, begged her to speak low.

“I have been trying for some time to draw your attention, dear,” said Mrs Chain, “as I heard you in the saloon, and thank God for this chance of telling you that I am sure we are kidnapped, no doubt by that wretch Falcon, who would not hesitate to carry us out to sea and even take our lives. Be quick, dear, and take this leather bag, for it contains money which you may want. It is part of the proceeds of the fifty-pound cheque Miss Dove most kindly sent me a while ago, when she heard the story of our losses through Falcon. My idea is that you should bribe the stewardess, and also terrify her by informing her that Miss Dove is the daughter of the squire, who is a magistrate.”

“My dear mother, how providential is this meeting, and how singularly opportune is Miss Dove’s present to you at a time when it may assist us and her too. But how came you here, mother?”

“I was told in a letter that I was to meet you and Miss Dove on board a yacht. But when I got on board yesterday, I discovered that I had been entrapped. Then, in my hearing, Falcon told the stewardess that if I attempted to communicate with anyone who might come on board I should be put down in the fore hold. Fearing that he would carry out his threat, I had recourse to pretending to be desperately sea-sick, so as to give him the impression that I was too ill to notice anything around me.”

“But have they hired this yacht for a cruise, or for what purpose?”

“Oh, I don’t know, dear child; but from what the mate told me after I was entrapped yesterday, they are going over to Havre first of all to meet a friend who had preceded them.”

“I dare not stay longer now, dear mother, as the stewardess will be coming down. But keep up heart, for I have some idea that we may have a friend on board after all. Hush! I can’t say more, someone is coming.”

It was quite excusable of Miss Chain after such an exciting episode to throw herself on a lounge, and she thought it might allay suspicion if she affected indisposition.

When Miss Dove entered the cabin, she was looking very pale and anxious, but Miss Chain made her a sign not to address her at present. Thinking the ladies were both ill, the stewardess again strongly recommended her marine cordial, as she called it.

“You need not be suspicious of it. I will prepare it in your presence, ladies. It will do neither of us any harm, I assure you, and I will drink some of it myself first, if you like.”

“You must not suppose that we mistrust you, stewardess,” said Miss Chain, who had aroused herself. “We are intending to make you a liberal present if you are kind and true to us, and it may pay you better to study our comfort and safety, than to oblige others on board of this ship. Perhaps you don’t know that this young lady is a magistrate’s daughter, and that, when she is found to be missing, this vessel will be pursued, and all confederates in these criminal proceedings of kidnapping will be brought to justice.”

“Oh, lor’, miss, I’m no confederate, but only a hired servant. There, come into this other cabin, where we shall not be overheard.”

“Certainly,” said Miss Chain, “if you will not mind if we have a few words there alone first.”

“By all means, ladies. That cabin is entirely at your disposal. No one will interrupt you there, and in the meantime, I will see after my other charge. But I hope you won’t think badly of me,” went on the garrulous woman, “for I’m not mixed up with these parties as have hired the yacht. I was told it was simply an elopement, and that I should be well paid for my services.”

“But can’t you see,” said Miss Chain, “that it is a vile kidnapping affair?”

“Oh, good Lord! And me a respectable Sussex woman. What a fool I was not to have made inquiries before I ventured on board the old Panther.”

“Is that her name?” asked Miss Dove.

“Yes, miss, but please to have your private talk at once, so that I can see you before the bad weather comes on. I’m told the glass is falling very fast, and that they are preparing for a rough night of it.”

It did not take Miss Chain very long to reveal the discovery she had made to Edith Dove, who was much shocked to find that Miss Chain’s mother was imprisoned on board in a separate cabin. She was much affected when her companion offered to return to her the bag of gold and notes, part of the cheque her kindness of heart had prompted her to send to Mrs Chain.

“You said, dear, it would be turned to a good and useful account. How wonderful are the ways of Providence. This proof of it inspires me with hope, but you must be cashier. Now tell me, Miss Chain, don’t you think it would be good policy to give the stewardess, say, five pounds, i.e., unless you see some other way of turning this godsend to better account, as your tact and judgment are superior to mine. And do, if we can manage it, let me see your mother, for we may meet for the first and last time, if this bloodthirsty monster is bent on our destruction.”

“We must work together to prevent such an awful catastrophe as you and my poor mother picture, Miss Dove. But, dear me, how rough it is getting.”

The stewardess, on reappearing, said she was not sorry that a storm was brewing, as Mr Filcher, the party who had engaged the yacht, would remain probably on deck longer than he might have done if it had been calm, as he expected it to be.

“But you know him, ladies, I have no doubt. Please to lie down, for I hear him on the companion; he is coming down to have a drink, and perhaps to see where you are. If he thinks you are sleeping, it will be better for all of us.”

After Falcon, with an unsteady gait, had partaken of a glass of brandy and water, he spoke in a subdued voice to the steward, and said that it was not fit weather for ladies to be on deck, and he was not over well pleased with the skipper’s seamanship, so that he would like to be near him, as it looked very stormy outside.

“Very well, sir. Please to mind our companion steps, Mr Filcher, as they are awfully steep. You will excuse me calling your attention to it, as I knew a man on board the Neptune, a full-rigged ship in which I once sailed, who, I was given to understand, was pitched down the companion in a gale of wind and broke his neck.”

“There was an end of him, then,” cried Falcon, with a sneer. “He can tell no tales. However, you can finish about him next call, for I don’t feel very well in this atmosphere.”

“Too close for you, sir, perhaps.”

“Almost too hot down here.”

“I don’t feel it so myself, sir.”

“Don’t suppose you do. Why, it blows stiffer than ever.”

Having had recourse several times to her “marine cordial,” the stewardess found no difficulty in getting off to sleep; indeed, her stertorous breathing in the adjoining cabin soon assured Miss Chain and Miss Dove that they might venture to visit Mrs Chain in her cabin unobserved once more; but for a time the dread of falling down, and the bare idea of the stewardess being awake, kept them from active exertion. Still, if that frightful snore they were assailed by was real and no sham, they could both creep along the carpeted floor and say a word or two to the poor old lady. And this they did, and were much encouraged by each other’s society. One thing they determined upon, and that was not to venture on deck, believing that Falcon entertained designs on their lives. They argued that he could easily pitch them overboard during the darkness of the night and the fury of the gale and no one be wiser, their disappearance being easily accounted for on the supposition that they had been washed overboard.

Another hour at least passed, when nought was heard save the noise of the storm and the snores of the stewardess. They listened with constant dread lest anyone should approach their cabin. Indeed, they began to indulge in the hope that they might safely get some sleep, when they were aroused by a tremendous noise as of something falling heavily. The steward, bewildered, rushed from his berth and called for help. Several sailors, with the captain, descended to find their employer nearly unconscious. Evidently he had disregarded the steward’s advice of being careful, and had pitched down the companion in his half-muddled condition. Falcon was lifted up and placed on a lounge.

“Is there no doctor on board?” asked Miss Dove, imploringly.

“No, miss,” replied the steward.

“Would a restorative be of any use?” asked Miss Chain.

“No, no, he too much cognac had,” said the captain, who was feeling Falcon’s pulse; and after doing so for some time, he said, “I tink he not live long. Ve must take him somevere; he no speak.”

“Couldn’t that old lady be moved,” asked Miss Chain.

“Sans doubt,” said the captain.

“Very well, then,” said the stewardess, “I’ll put the old lady into the large cabin with these ladies, i.e., if they don’t object.”

“Why, certainly not, we should be glad to have her company.”

The question then arose as to what they were going to do. Captain Ami said,—

“Ve must go ahead stead-dy till daylight come—den pere-haps ve see some ship or get doctere from Cherbourg if he live. Aftere dat ve go back to Eengland.”

Naturally it was with unspeakable delight that the ladies heard the captain say, “Ve must go back to Eengland.” Then they recollected his own words to them, which were, “To have faith in him.” Yet the thought would obtrude itself on their minds that Falcon’s fall down the ladder might not have been quite such an accident as they had at first judged it to be.

CHAPTER XXIV
A DISAPPEARANCE AND A REAPPEARANCE

Directly Edith and Miss Chain were on board the Panther, the Doves’ carriage put up at the Bridge Hotel in Newhaven, in compliance with an order from the mate of the yacht Panther, who further instructed the coachman where to wait with the carriage after the horses had been baited.

When two full hours had elapsed, the coachman felt so anxious about his ladies that he returned to the wharf to look after them, and was, of course, astonished to notice that the vessel had vanished, but, observing a wharfinger, he asked if he knew where the steamer had gone.

“Gone,” he said, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, “very likely to Normandy; it’s a runaway match, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” replied the coachman, whose temper was rising. “Don’t poke fun at me, or you’ll find yourself in the wrong box.”

“Well, if that isn’t an elopement or a case of kidnapping, I’m much deceived. The fact is, that blooming Panther was thought to be a bit suspicious like, and if I were you, I’d just look up the harbour master,” said Blucher Gray.

“Why, man,” cried the coachman, “you’re all at sea; my ladies came expressly to see some gentleman coming from Cherbourg or Dieppe.”

“Do you mean the parties who went up in a balloon? Lor’ bless you, I know ’em well, and helped to start them from Bishopstone when a detective joined ’em. But don’t you know, coachman,” said Blucher Gray, for it was none other than he, “that there’s no boat due yet?”

“My good man,” replied the coachman, “you will drive me mad if you say much more.”

“Well, it’s my opinion that you have been hoaxed, and I believe I’ve been served out myself. You see that man coming in a fly, he’s Dick Trimmons. I’ll speak to him; we shall hear something more perhaps. Hi! Trimmons,” cried Blucher Gray; “hold on a minute with your trap, and tell us what you know about that queer craft the Panther, and where she has gone to.”

“Didn’t know she was gone,” said Dick Trimmons. “I brought over this morning your lodger, that black devil of a man with his big black spectacles, from Seaford.”

“And where is he now, Dick, eh? I suppose you know the coachman here? He has lost his ladies; they come from Wedwell Park.”

“Lost his ladies! You don’t mean that?”

“I do, indeed,” cried the Doves’ coachman. “The fact is, I’m mighty anxious about them.”

“Hold on,” cried Blucher Gray, “here comes the harbour master and one or two others; they have heard something’s up, I’ll lay a wager.”

“Beg your pardon, sir, but didn’t you ask my ladies to come over and meet the balloon gentlemen on their way back from Cherbourg, sir?” said the coachman, addressing the harbour master.

“No, indeed, coachman,” replied he, quite astounded. “But why do you ask?”

“Well, sir, because Miss Dove and her friend went on board the steam yacht Panther, thinking, I believe, to meet you and their friends.”

“Then I’m afraid there’s been foul play. However, I will immediately wire across and send out a tug, though I fear it is too late to stop them. By the way, Trimmons, who was that queer-looking man you have been driving over from Seaford lately? He’s stone blind, they say.”

“My wife’s lodger, sir,” answered Gray.

“But where has he gone now?”

“That’s exactly the very point we’re discussing,” said Trimmons.

“I can see it all,” cried the harbour master; “we’re all completely done. The fellow was that rascal Falcon in disguise, and he has carried off Miss Dove and her friend, God knows where. Well, it’s no use your stopping here, coachman, you had better make the best of your way home to Wedwell Park. I wish I could go with you to break the matter to the squire. However, I’ll send my confidential clerk.”

“This scoundrel Falcon owes my wife for his lodgings,” remarked Gray, as the three walked towards the stables.

“And me,” cried Trimmons, “for a lot of journeys to and from Seaford, which he has not paid yet. I thought he was a millionaire, and had lost his sight by pulling in so much cash.”

“By golly,” said Blucher Gray, “it looks as if he could see far enough. It’s us who were blind. I was never taken in so in all my life. Hullo! here comes Mr Strive, who, like us, saw the balloonists off from Bishopstone. How are you, Mr Strive? There’s bad news stirring, I regret to say, but we will tell you about it at the hotel.”

“Nothing happened to the aeronauts, I hope?” asked the ex-chief officer.

“No, they’re all right, but Squire Dove’s daughter and her companion are carried off by that swindler Falcon, in the Panther steam yacht, as we believe, and the wretch has made off owing money right and left, too.”

“You don’t say so?” cried Mr Strive.

“What has happened?” asked the squire, as the carriage entered Wedwell Park, for the grave faces of the coachman and of the harbour-master’s clerk, at once suggested some mishap, while the absence of the ladies added to his anxiety.

“Let me introduce myself,” replied the occupant of the carriage. “I am the harbour-master’s representative, and wish to state that a steam yacht went out unexpectedly at high water, and we fear that Miss Dove and her companion must have been, by some strange mistake, on board her at the time. We have sent out a tug, and wired to the French coast, as the Panther people with your ladies, squire, may have gone out to meet the Dieppe passenger boat.”

“What in the name of fortune,” cried the squire, “had my daughter to do with a steam yacht? And do have the goodness to tell me whether your people invited the ladies over to Newhaven Bridge at twelve o’clock?”

“Yes, these,” remarked Doctor Peters, who had joined the squire, “are most important questions.”

“I really don’t know,” replied the puzzled clerk.

“Is it possible,” exclaimed the squire, “that this monster has outwitted us all, and robbed us besides? I can see now the meaning of Warner’s telegram to Edith, which arrived two hours after the carriage left. Here, read it, doctor, for I am feeling faint.”

“Yes, squire, I’ll do so while you rest. It says,—‘I warn the ladies and the squire not to go near Newhaven.’”

“What a pity that telegram came so late,” exclaimed the squire, so feebly that it was evident he was seriously ill.

In another minute he would have fallen down in a fainting fit, if Doctor Peters’s quick eye had not noticed the change, and, running to the squire’s assistance, he placed him on a lounge, while the requisite remedies were forthwith administered under Doctor Peters’s personal superintendence. It was fortunate that he was sufficiently well to diagnose and treat the attack, but he immediately called in from Lewes medical help, because, after a partial revival, the heart’s action of the squire continued very weak.

Mr Penfold and many other friends who had ascertained the actual position of affairs had afforded the squire all the consolation that they possibly could in his distress, when a letter arrived from Mr William Goodall, to say that he was coming next day with some good news. This had quite a magic effect on the squire, as he construed the letter to imply that Goodall had seen, or heard some cheering tidings of Miss Dove and Miss Chain. So Doctor Peters and the rest of the household kept up this delusive idea.

However, the hope and faith this belief inspired in the mind of the squire was excusably encouraged, and to foster it, preparations were set on foot to give a warm reception to Mr William Goodall, including an impromptu day of rejoicing. Bennet was therefore told to provide what amount of sport and diversion he could. The village band and one from Lewes were ordered, and tents were erected in preparation.

On the following morning, when the squire, who was nearly himself again, and his friends had been amusing themselves in the punts on the fish-pond, a shriek was heard, coming from the direction of the gamekeeper’s cottage, and Mrs Bennet was seen standing outside, looking as pale as death, while she pointed towards a quiet, gentlemanly-looking man, who was approaching the Hall. Squire Dove, whose eyes were steadfastly fixed on this figure, exclaimed,—

“If I were a believer in ghosts, doctor, I should say that, for the first time in my life, I had seen one.”

“Ay, how extremely like Henry Goodall who was drowned that stranger is!”

While the squire and Doctor Peters were agreed on this point, Mrs Bennet drew near to explain that the gentleman who had so alarmed her, and who looked the very image of William Goodall’s brother who died at sea, frightened her by suddenly alighting from a carriage in the lower road, and said that his brother William, the other occupant of the carriage, was going round to the Hall, but that he had come in by the cottage gate so as not to frighten the squire until his brother William had gone in advance to announce that he, Henry, was not drowned as had been reported. It was this unexpected news from a supposed defunct man that had made Mrs Bennet scream.

“Don’t be alarmed!” said the squire, “there comes William Goodall from his carriage, and now the two brothers are standing shoulder to shoulder as if they were debating what they should do. This is a very remarkable incident,” added the squire, “for yonder we get another proof of how we have been swindled by Falcon.”

“I wouldn’t allude to his name, squire, unless the Goodalls do so first. See, they are coming down to meet us,” cried the doctor. “Let us pause a moment and meet them half way, squire.”

CHAPTER XXV
REUNION AND HAPPINESS

As the squire and Doctor Peters drew nearer, Henry Goodall advanced with extended hand towards them. Seeing this, his brother and the doctor held back for a moment, to notice what effect the unexpected appearance of Henry Goodall would have on their host, and then the party all shook hands heartily.

“Welcome back in the flesh,” said the squire. “Welcome to Wedwell Park. You bring us tidings of my daughter and her companion as well as of the aeronauts. No? I had hoped you might have met them, for you must know that they are missing. My daughter will sadly regret not being here to receive you.”

“That I am sure of,” replied Henry Goodall. “And your kind words are doubly gratifying after the adventures I have had, but that is too long a story to tell you now, especially if you are concerned as to the safety of your child.”

“Yes, excuse me,” cried the squire. “I’m perhaps too anxious to know all, and forget my dear old friend. How bewildered you must feel on this occasion. But do let us move towards the tents on the lawn and sit down.”

At this moment Lucy was seen approaching with a telegram.

“Excuse my reading it,” said the squire, politely, to his guests; “perhaps it is about the aeronauts. Yes, I was right. It is from Newhaven, and says,—‘Your daughter, Miss Chain and the aeronauts all on their way to Wedwell Park.’ Ay, thank God for that,” cried the squire. “Here, Lucy, give this to Bennet, and let everyone know the good news. You will soon see your son, Mr Goodall, and I shall once more behold my daughter!”

This short but touching announcement was somewhat enigmatical, so far as the brothers Goodall were concerned, so the squire hurriedly gave them an account of the startling events which had been happening during the last few days.

The news of the return of the aeronauts had evidently rapidly circulated, for considerable excitement was apparent among the household servants and the tenantry.

“Hark!” exclaimed the doctor, “don’t you hear the band playing ‘The Conquering Hero comes?’”

“Who is the hero?” asked the Sydney merchant.

“Why, your son, Harry Goodall, of course,” replied the squire, “though no doubt your own heroic deeds equally deserve this ovation.”

“Nonsense, squire, you flatter me too greatly.”

The meeting which took place in front of the Hall can be better imagined than described, for when Edith Dove and the squire embraced, as did Goodall, senior, with his son Harry, there arose such cheering that the village bells could scarcely be heard pealing, nor the Babel of congratulations which filled the air, so glad were folk to welcome them all back to Wedwell Park. Presently a move was made to the tents, where a cold collation had been provided. After the viands had been done justice to, and numerous toasts had been drunk, everyone seemed as anxious to give information of their various adventures as the rest were desirous of hearing them.

Henry Goodall was the first called on to narrate the episodes of his voyage, during which he was supposed to have been drowned.

“Really, Squire Dove,” said the Sydney merchant, “I am so rejoiced to see you once more, together with your daughter and my son, that as I wish to hear about their more thrilling adventures, I will make short work of my own miraculous escape from a watery grave. So I will briefly mention that, instead of being washed over the side of the Neptune by a heavy sea off the Cape of Good Hope, as my brother and even Captain Link believed, I was, in point of fact, cast overboard by Falcon and Croft, who were passengers in the ship, and who expected to get hold of my will, which I had made greatly in favour of Falcon. And I may tell you that these wretches were foiled in rather a curious way, for the steward of the ship, who was an ingenious man, had invented and made a cork cap and belt, which he kindly supplied me with, as I was a great deal on deck owing to an asthmatic affection, but had no idea, though the steward had, that my life would be attempted while on board of my own vessel by a man I had befriended. However, I had been warned by the steward not to place much confidence in those two men, so that I had taken my will and some bank-notes and placed them inside the steward’s waterproof life-belt, which I wore then, when I was carried, or, in fact, hurled overboard at night on our shipping a very heavy sea, I was providentially not drowned. Floating, unseen by those on deck, I drifted in the direction of a vessel, and, being taken on board, was able to reach Cape Town. Here I was immensely astonished to find the steward in hospital, and he told me that, instead of being washed down the companion ladder by the same wave that carried me over the ship’s side, he was deliberately wounded by blows struck by Falcon and Croft. Little did they think that he would recover after they had gone on to London in the Neptune, and that I should soon tread on their heels and bring back with me a witness against them in the person of the steward himself. I had also left a second legacy to Falcon—believing him at that time to be a true friend—provided he induced my son Harry to relinquish ballooning and to seek the hand of a young lady who at the present moment shall be nameless, though she is not at this moment a hundred miles away.”

After these incidents had been more fully discussed, Harry Goodall and the ladies respectively related the astonishing devices to which Falcon and Croft had for so long past employed against them all, as are already known to us.

Captain Ami seems to have fully carried out his contract made with Harry Goodall and Captain Link on board the Retriever, and at the same time was the means of bringing Miss Dove and her companion under the protective escort of their respective lovers.

Before the party broke up, the squire announced, amidst general congratulations, that, ere many weeks would be over their heads, two weddings would be solemnised in the village church of Wedwell, namely that of Mr Harry Goodall with Miss Dove, and of Captain Link with Miss Chain, and with full consent of the parties’ respective parents. And he added that he believed that it was an open secret that wedding bells would ring in congratulations of others known to them, whose loyalty and bravery entitled them to win hearts true as their own. All reference to the fates, sad, though richly deserved, of Falcon and Croft was carefully avoided, so that no discordant note might tend to mar the harmony of the gathering.

However, the reader may be interested to know that Falcon’s fall resulted in incurable paralysis, while Croft took his own life by deliberately jumping overboard during a gale of wind, and previous to the Retriever falling in with the Panther; though the ship was brought to, and the most careful search was made, no trace of him was discovered, so there can be little doubt as to his fate.

THE END

London: Digby, Long & Co., Publishers,
18 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C.

OCTOBER 1895

SUPPLEMENTARY LIST

DIGBY, LONG & CO.’S
NEW NOVELS, STORIES, Etc.

GRANT ALLEN’S NEW BOOK.

The Desire of the Eyes and other Stories. By Grant Allen, Author of “The Woman Who Did,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

IN ONE VOLUME, Price 6s.

NEW NOVEL BY FERGUS HUME.

The Masquerade Mystery. By the Author of “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Just out.

NEW NOVEL BY ANNIE THOMAS (Mrs Pender Cudlip).

A Lover of the Day. By the Author of “False Pretences,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Shortly.

NEW NOVEL BY JEAN MIDDLEMASS.

Hush Money. By the Author of “The Mystery of Clement Dunraven,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Shortly.

NEW NOVEL BY DORA RUSSELL.

A Man’s Privilege. By the Author of “A Hidden Chain,” “The Other Bond,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth.

[In November.

DR ARABELLA KENEALY’S LATEST NOVEL.

The Honourable Mrs Spoor. By the Author of “Some Men are such Gentlemen,” “Dr Janet of Harley Street,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Fourth Edition.

“Her latest novel has advanced her to the front rank of lady novelists.”—BLACK AND WHITE.

“A clever story. The most powerful piece of work that Miss Kenealy has done.”—DAILY CHRONICLE.

“This powerful story ... brilliantly achieved. Her style is, as always, graceful and easy, and her character sketches are excellent and humorous.”—PALL MALL GAZETTE.

BY DR ARABELLA KENEALY.

Some Men are such Gentlemen. By the Author of “Dr Janet of Harley Street,” “Molly and Her Man-o’-War,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. With a Frontispiece.

[Fifth Edition.

“We take up a book by Miss Arabella Kenealy confidently expecting to be amused and in her latest work we are not disappointed. The story is so brightly written that our interest is never allowed to flag. The heroine, Lois Clinton, is sweet and womanly.... The tale is told with spirit and vivacity, and shows no little skill in its descriptive passages.”—ACADEMY.

“A book to be read breathlessly from beginning to end. It is decidedly original ... its vivid interest. The picture of the girl is admirably drawn. The style is bright and easy.”—PALL MALL GAZETTE.

“Its heroine is at once original and charming.”—TRUTH.

When the Heart is Young. By Alice Maud Meadows. Author of “The Romance of a Mad-house,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Fourth Edition.

“A brightly-written, gossipy novel of real interest and attraction. The story is one for which we would predict a very large measure of popularity. In recent fiction the novel will assuredly take a prominent place.”—DUNDEE ADVERTISER.

NEW NOVEL BY GILBERTA M. F. LYON.

One Hour of Madness. By the Author of “Absent, Yet Present,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Just out.

Recognition. A Mystery of the Coming Colony. By Sydney H. Wright. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Second Edition.

“One of the literary sensations of the season. The first edition was entirely bought up by the trade on the day of publication. The book is one of absorbing interest, and has scarcely a dull page from start to finish.”—ABERDEEN JOURNAL.

Sir Geoffrey de Skeffington. A Historical Novel. By B. W. Ward, M.A. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[In November.

The Vengeance of Medea. By Edith Gray Wheelwright, Author of “Anthony Graeme.” Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

“Miss Wheelwright has introduced several delightful characters, and produced a work which will add to her reputation. The dialogue is especially well written.”—WESTERN DAILY MERCURY.

With the Bankshire Hounds. A Hunting Story. By F. H. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Just out.

What we are Coming to. A Powerful Up-to-Date Novel. By Henry Maurice Hardinge. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Second Edition.

A Ruler of Ind. By F. Thorold Dickson and Mary L. Pechell. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Just out.

The Court Adjourns. By W. F. Alexander. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[In November.

Castle Lacy. By Mrs Mary A. Houchen. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[Just out.

And the World Saith. An Original and Powerful Novel by Leda Law. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[In November.

Ronald Kyan. By Walter Sweetman, B.A., Author of “Libertas,” “Schoolfellows’ Stories,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

[In November.

IN ONE VOLUME, Price 3s. 6d.

“A Book everybody is reading.”

His Egyptian Wife. By Hilton Hill. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. With Frontispiece.

[Seventh Thousand.

“It is her (Nelly Shy’s) determination at all costs to see the inside of a harem that produces the most racy and adventurous chapters in a thoroughly readable volume.”—DAILY TELEGRAPH.

“An American journalist of the softer sex is depicted with considerable skill and a fund of genuine humour.”—LITERARY WORLD.

“There is no one but will fall in love with the indomitable Nelly Shy, of the Chicago ‘Ladies’ Journal.’”—ABERDEEN PRESS.

“This is one of the brightest written romances we have read this season.”—SHEFFIELD INDEPENDENT.

NEW BOOK BY THE AUTHOR OF “A PLUNGE INTO SPACE.”

The Crack of Doom. By Robert Cromie, Author of “For England’s Sake,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Third Edition.

Mr Gladstone writes:—“I am reading the book with interest.”

“It has a capital plot, which is admirably developed. The author has not only struck a vein of fiction rich and rare, but he has demonstrated his ability to work it.”—BLACK AND WHITE.

Her Loving Slave. By Hume Nisbet, Author of “The Jolly Roger,” “Bail Up,” etc., etc. In Handsome Pictorial Binding, with Illustrations by the Author. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.; also in Digby’s Popular Novel Series, cloth, 2s. 6d.

[Third Edition.

“Has abundance of go in it.”—THE TIMES.

“It is a good story well told.”—STANDARD.

“The whole story is capitally written, the characters are life-like, and the whole is in Mr Nisbet’s best style.”—ST JAMES’S BUDGET.

A Knight of the Air. By Henry Coxwell. Author of “My Life and Balloon Experiences,” etc. Crown 8vo, pictorial cloth, with Frontispiece, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

Indolent Impressions. By Frederick William Waithman. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

“One of the most entertaining books of the season. Should find thousands of appreciative readers.”—IRISH TIMES.

The Leadin’ Road to Donegal. By “Mac.” Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

The Weird Ring of Aviemoor. By Marcus Orde. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

Timothy’s Legacy. By Emily M. H. Clennell. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

My Doubles, and other Stories. By J. Tempest Blanch, Author of “Our Hands Have Met,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Second Edition.

Over-Reached. By Matthew Vallance. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

A Son of Noah. By Mary Anderson. Author of “Othello’s Occupation.” Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Fifth Edition.

Spunyarn. By N. J. Preston. Crown 8vo, pictorial cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Second Edition.

“Very readable stories of the sea.”—DUNDEE ADVERTISER.

“It has the genuine flavour of the tarry hand.”—SCOTSMAN.

“The book is thoroughly enjoyable.”—WHITEHALL REVIEW.

Perfect Womanhood. By Frederick J. Gant, F.R.C.S. (Dedicated by permission to H.R.H. Princess Christian.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

DIGBY’S POPULAR NOVEL SERIES

Crown 8vo, price 2s. 6d. per Vol. Each book contains about 320 pp., and is printed on superior paper, from new type, and bound in handsome cloth, gilt lettered.

Those marked * may be had in picture boards at 2s.

By FLORENCE MARRYAT

THE BEAUTIFUL SOUL.

[Ready.

BY DORA RUSSELL.

THE OTHER BOND.

[Ready.

* A HIDDEN CHAIN. (Third Edition.)

By L. T. MEADE.

A LIFE FOR A LOVE.

[Ready.

By ANNIE THOMAS

(Mrs Pender Cudlip).

FALSE PRETENCES.

[Ready.

By ARABELLA KENEALY

* DR JANET OF HARLEY STREET. (Seventh Edition.)

By JEAN MIDDLEMASS.

* THE MYSTERY OF CLEMENT DUNRAVEN. (Third Edition.)

By HUME NISBET.

* THE JOLLY ROGER. Illustrated by Author. (Fifth Edition.)

HER LOVING SLAVE.

Illustrated by Author.

[Ready.

*** Other Works in the same Series in due course.

MISCELLANEOUS

A History of the Great Western Railway from Its Inception to the Present Time. By G. A. Sekon. Revised by F. G. Saunders, Chairman of the Great Western Railway. Demy 8vo, 390 pages, cloth, 7s. 6d. With numerous Illustrations.

*** Illustrated Prospectus, post free.     [Second Edition.

“Mr Sekon’s volume is full of interest, and constitutes an important chapter in the history of railway development in England.”—THE TIMES, April 12th, 1895.

The Author’s Manual. By Percy Russell. With Prefatory Remarks by Mr Gladstone. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net. (Eighth and Cheaper Edition.) With portrait.

“... Mr Russell’s book is a very complete manual and guide for journalist and author. It is not a merely practical work—it is literary and appreciative of literature in its best sense: ... we have little else but praise for the volume.”—WESTMINSTER REVIEW.

A Guide to British and American Novels. From the Earliest Period to the end of 1894. By Percy Russell, Author of “The Author’s Manual,” etc. Crown 8vo, cloth. Price 3s. 6d. net. (Second Edition carefully revised.)

“Mr Russell’s familiarity with every form of novel is amazing, and his summaries of plots and comments thereon are as brief and lucid as they are various.”—SPECTATOR.

Nigh on Sixty Years at Sea. By Robert Woolward (“Old Woolward”). Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. With Portrait. (Second Edition.)

“Very entertaining reading. Captain Woolward writes sensibly and straightforwardly, and tells his story with the frankness of an old salt. He has a keen sense of humour, and his stories are endless and very entertaining.”—THE TIMES.

Borodin and Liszt. I.—Life and Works of a Russian Composer. II.—Liszt, as sketched in the Letters of Borodin. By Alfred Habets. Translated with a Preface by Rosa Newmarch. With Portraits and Fac-similes. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s.

“Well translated. It consists of two sections, the first a very interesting and sympathetic memoir of the exceedingly original Russian genius, and the second a vivid sketch of Liszt as he appeared to Borodin. The translator’s preface sums up the conditions of musical life in Russia very cleverly.”—THE TIMES.

POETRY AND THE DRAMA

Fragments from Victor Hugo’s Legends and Lyrics. By Cecilia Elizabeth Meetkerke. Crown 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6d.

“The most admirable rendering of French poetry into English that has come to our knowledge since Father Prout’s translation of ‘La Chant du Cosaque.’”—WORLD.

Our Queen and other Poems. By Lillian. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net.

[Just out.

The Palace of Delights and other Poems. By Henry Osborne, M.A. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net.

[Just out.

Random Rhymes and Christmas Chimes. By Lily Overington. Crown 8vo, cloth, 5s. net.

[Just out.

Songs of My Solitude. By Henry Newman. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

The Progress of Love. Crown 8vo, cloth 2s. 6d.

[Just out.

The Lilies and other Poems. By Sabrina. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

Chateaux en Espagne. By Percy Cross Standing. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

[Just out.

Flower Legends from Many Lands. By Lizzie Deas. Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. 6d.

[Just out.

The Janitor’s Daughter. A Drama of Bristol Castle. By George Amos. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net.

[Just out.

Life’s Golden Age; or, Juvenile Congress. By William Cullingworth. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d.

[Just out.

Sir Kenneth’s Wanderings. By Frederick E. Ellis. Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. net.

[Just out.

Fugitive Fancies. By William Joseph Yeoman. Author of “King William III.” Demy 16mo, cloth, 3s. 6d. net.

[Now Ready.

Pixy: A Fairy Drama in Four Acts. By Isaac Willcocks, M.R.C.S. Crown 8vo, paper cover, 1s.

[Just out.

*** A complete Catalogue of Novels, Travels, Biographies, Poems, etc., with a critical or descriptive notice of each, free by post on application.

London: DIGBY, LONG & CO. Publishers

18 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.

Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A KNIGHT OF THE AIR ***

Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed.

Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution.

START: FULL LICENSE

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license.

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg electronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg License when you share it without charge with others.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.

1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg electronic works provided that:

- • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”

- • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.

- • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem.

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg

Project Gutenberg is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws.

The Foundation’s business office is located at 41 Watchung Plaza #516, Montclair NJ 07042, USA, +1 (862) 621-9288. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate.

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate.

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg electronic works

Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org.

This website includes information about Project Gutenberg, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.

Table of Contents

- A KNIGHT OF THE AIR
- CONTENTS
- CHAPTER I SHADOWED!
- CHAPTER II AN ACCIDENT
- CHAPTER III MESSRS GOODALL BROTHERS
- CHAPTER IV AN APPEAL
- CHAPTER V SCHEMING!
- CHAPTER VI AERONAUTICS
- CHAPTER VII FINANCE AND FINESSE
- CHAPTER VIII MR FALCON ON FLIGHT
- CHAPTER IX A FLIGHTY FIASCO
- CHAPTER X CAPTAIN LINK’S APPEARANCE
- CHAPTER XI REMARKABLE EVENTS
- CHAPTER XII UNMASKED
- CHAPTER XIII THE MYSTERIOUS SHOT
- CHAPTER XIV SURPRISING DISCLOSURES
- CHAPTER XV WANTED BY WARNER
- CHAPTER XVI ON THE TRACK
- CHAPTER XVII ALARMING INCIDENTS
- CHAPTER XVIII WAITING FOR NEWS
- CHAPTER XIX UP ALOFT
- CHAPTER XX THE FIGHT IN THE FOG

- CHAPTER XXI RECONCILIATION AND RETROSPECTION

- CHAPTER XXII TIGHTENING THE NET

- CHAPTER XXIII DECOYED

- CHAPTER XXIV A DISAPPEARANCE AND A REAPPEARANCE

- CHAPTER XXV REUNION AND HAPPINESS

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE