Chapter VII: The Return of the Airship

IT was no time for explanation. Dacres could just discern the outlines of two men in the act of springing upon him. At this uncalled-for outrage is blood was up. He would resist first and explain afterwards.

Stepping agilely aside Dacres thrust out his foot and sent one of his assailants sprawling on his hands and knees. His comrade, within an ace of tripping over the other's prostrate body, thought discretion the better part of valour, and slipped back until he could obtain assistance.

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Dacres angrily. "I'm not a poacher. I've lost my way."

"A likely story," exclaimed the man who had given the order for the attack. "All the same, you've got to come with us."

"Got to?" repeated Dacres, standing on his guard. "There are two sides to that question."

A minute before he would have gone anywhere with anyone, and with the utmost willingness. Now, the aggressive nature of the reception completely destroyed any such desire.

As he stood with his arms in a professional boxing attitude he heard other footsteps, crunching on the dry pine-needles.

"Look here," continued the speaker. "It's no use resisting. We are five to one. You've jolly well got to be brought before the governor. It may be all right for you or it may not. We've got our orders and we mean to carry them out. Now, then, are you coming quietly?"

"Evidently they take me for a poacher," thought Dacres. "Perhaps I am on the pater's preserves. It will be rather a joke if I am, and they run me in before my own governor."

"Very well, then," he said aloud, "I'll come quietly; only keep your hands off me."

"We will if you promise to give no trouble," replied the leader of the party in a mollified tone, "but orders are orders, you know."

"And this is an illegal arrest," added Dacres.

"Maybe," retorted the man coolly. "Anyway, it isn't our pigeon. You can argue that out with the governor. Quick march, you men."

Two of Dacres' captors faced about with military precision; two more formed up behind him, while the spokesman kept in the rear. In this order, and like an escort marching a deserter through the streets, the men set off through the wood.

Presently they emerged into a circular clearing, measuring roughly two hundred yards in diameter. The ground was covered with grass mown as short and as evenly as a cricket pitch, while at equal distances were five lofty wooden sheds, their fronts level with the surrounding forest and extending backwards into the dense masses of trees. In front of each of these buildings a red lamp was burning brightly.

"Can we get him across to the house before----?" whispered one of Dacres' captors.

"Yes, if we hurry. No, we can't, by Jupiter! There she is."

Overhead, its extremities hidden by the lofty tree tops, was a huge cylindrical object. In a moment the truth flashed across Dacres' mind. The mysterious airship was returning to its place of concealment, and he was the first outsider to stumble upon its secret hiding-place.

"Remember your promise," hissed the leader of the men. "This is a mess. I'll have something to answer for. Come on, you chaps."

Followed by three of his companions the man bounded across the open space. Dacres' remaining captor touched him on the shoulder.

"Get back," he ordered.

"I think not," replied Dacres coolly, although inwardly consumed with excitement. "I mean to stay where I am."

"You jolly well must," said the man threateningly.

"Thank you, but I'm not used to being ordered about," rejoined Dacres with a sternness that commanded respect. "I will take the risk. I am perfectly aware that this is the secret hiding-place of the airship that has been causing such a stir, and I mean to see my part of the business through."

"You'll be sorry for it, then," muttered the man. "We guessed as much. I won't give much for your chances when----"

"My friend, you were not asked to," retorted Dacres. "Remember, I'm giving no trouble, as I promised. Any trouble which arises depends solely upon yourself."

The man, powerful though he was, realized that single-handed he was no match for his athletic prisoner. The rest of his companions had to hasten to assist in the berthing of the airship. To appeal to them would be useless. Fortunately, however, the detained intruder made no attempt to escape.

Fascinated, Dacres watched the strange scene. The airship was almost touching the tree-tops. It was too dark to distinguish any details of her construction. She showed no lights, nor was there a suspended platform visible. He could hear men's voices conversing in subdued tones, although he was unable to distinguish what was being said.

Presently coils of ropes were thrown down and secured by the men who had recently been Dacres' assailants. There came a faint hissing sound like that of escaping air, and, as he watched, Dacres saw the midship section of the huge envelope drop slowly out of line. Held by the ropes it sank gently to the ground, and from it emerged two of the crew, who, assisted by one of the men in waiting guided it into one of the sheds that Dacres had previously noticed.

Another section followed, and then a third, both of which were placed under cover. Only the bow and stern portion now remained, till, smoothly as if they were gliding on a pair of rails, they came together without the faintest suspicion of a jar.

Even with the removal of the major portion of its bulk, the remaining sections of the airship were of considerable dimensions. The extremities almost touched the surrounding trees as the massive fabric was brought to earth.

Dacres could distinguish no signs of any propellers. The remaining remaining sections were very much like those already housed, except for the pointed bow and a long cylindrical projection on either side and parallel to the major axis of the main body.

Nor were there any elevating planes or rudders to be seen. The whole fabric seemed to be remarkably simple and business-like in design.

By this time the fore and aft sections of the airship had shed their crew, and nearly thirty men were holding on to the guide ropes. Again came the faint hissing sound and once more the giant envelope swung apart.

Within ten minutes from the lowering of the first rope the huge leviathan of the air was securely housed in the sheds erected for its reception. The red lights were switched off and darkness brooded over the open space.

"Now for it," thought Dacres, as several of the men crossed the green and approached the spot where he was standing.

"Here is the man, sir," announced the fellow who had directed the capture.

Without saying a word the person addressed flashed an electric torch full in the captive's face. It struck Dacres that this was taking rather a mean advantage, for no man can be at ease with a powerful glare temporarily blinding him.

"You have made a mistake, Callaghan," said the stranger at length, as he switched off the light. "This gentleman is not one of our undesirable friends. You ought to have exercised more discretion."

"I thought, sir----" began Callaghan.

"Never mind what you thought," interrupted the stranger peremptorily. "What is done is, unfortunately, hardly remediable at present. Excuse me," he continued addressing himself to Dacres, "but the zeal of my man rather outran his discretion. I think I am right in assuming that I am speaking to an Englishman and a gentleman?"

Dacres bowed stiffly. He was still unable to see what his questioner was like, but judging by his voice he was a comparatively young man.

"I think I can claim to be both," he replied. He was now in no hurry to furnish explanations. The situation appealed to him, and the more he could prolong his stay on the forbidden ground the better, he decided. Cranbury House was for the time being far remote from his mind.

"Allow me to show you the way to my modest dwelling," continued the unknown. "There is no need for you to hurry away."

Whether there was any significance in the latter sentence Dacres could not quite determine. He cared still less, for here, apparently, was a chance of learning more about the owner of this mysterious airship.

After giving various directions to his men, the stranger took hold of Dacres' arm in an easy yet dignified manner.

"Now," he said, "this way. It is rather a rough path."

"It couldn't be rougher than the path I traversed this evening," said Dacres, but the remark drew no response from his self-constituted companion.

The track seemed a perfect labyrinth. It wound in sharp curves between the thickly-clustered trees; sometimes ascending and sometimes dipping steeply into hollows crowded with dense undergrowth. The darkness under the foliage was intense, and without his companions guiding arm Dacres must have collided with the tree trunks more than once; but the stranger seemed to possess the instincts of a cat, for unhaltingly he pursued his way with the certainty of a man familiar with his haunts.

Presently the two men came upon a road that cut its way boldly through the wood. This the stranger followed for about a hundred yards, till he stopped in front of a gateway in a tall brick wall.

Had Dacres wished to escape there seemed no reason why he should not take to his heels, for the roadway was evidently a carriage-drive, and must lead somewhere. But without hesitation he complied with the unknown's unspoken request as, with a wave of the hand, he indicated that his guest should enter.

"Here we are," said the stranger apologetically as they reached the door of a long rambling house. "We have not the convenience of electric light here, so I must strike a match and light the lamp."

These words were spoken in such a matter-of-fact way that Dacres could hardly realize that the speaker was one and the same as the daring airman who had stirred not only the United Kingdom but the whole of the civilized world.

Unhesitatingly Dacres followed his host into a plain but substantially furnished room, and when the lamp was turned up the former was able to discern the features of his companion.

The owner of the aircraft was the shorter by two inches. He was sparely built, yet his breadth and depth of chest betokened more than average strength. His limbs were long in comparison to his body, while the long, tapering fingers indicated an artistic temperament. His face was oval, and of a deep tanned colour, his eyes were grey and evenly set beneath a pair of heavy brows. His hair was brown in hue and neatly parted in the centre, giving him at first sight a slightly effeminate appearance. Dacres guessed his age to be about twenty-five.

His dress consisted of a brown Norfolk suit and riding breeches, box gaiters and brown boots. Round his neck was a dark green muffler. His golf-cap and doeskin gloves he tossed upon the table.

"Now we can discuss this little matter, Mr.----?" He raised his eyebrows interrogatively.

"Dacres is my name--Basil Dacres."

"Ah! Any relation of Colonel Dacres, my nearest neighbour?" he asked. "His son? That's quite a coincidence. I owe the Colonel a duty call, but I have been so excessively busy of late that I really haven't had time. By the by, my name's Whittinghame--Vaughan Whittinghame. I don't suppose for one moment that you've heard of me before."

"I have reason to dispute that," said Dacres.

"Well, then, as an individual you might, but as far as the name is concerned----"

"I happened to meet a Gerald Whittinghame in town about five years ago," said Dacres.

"Oh--how?"

"During the College summer vacation. I met him at General Shaldon's house, when I was staying with my friend Dick Shaldon. Whittinghame was then a man of about twenty-two. He had just come home from somewhere in South America. He was a rattling good left-hand bowler, I remember."

"That's my brother," said Vaughan Whittinghame quietly. "By the by, are you a 'Varsity man?"

Dacres shook his head. He did not at present feel inclined to lay his cards upon the table.

"To get straight to the point," continued Whittinghame, looking his guest full in the face, "how came you in my grounds this evening?"

"That's easily explained," replied Dacres. "I was on my way to Cranbury House--I've never been there yet--and I lost my way. Nearly got stuck in a bog more than once. Eventually I saw a light, and crawling through a fence"--here he looked regretfully at his torn clothing "--I found myself confronted by some of your men."

"It is as well you thought better of resisting," said Whittinghame quietly. "They are tough customers and they know their orders. I may as well tell you, Mr. Dacres, that I am compelled to detain you here for a few days."

"Very well," replied Dacres with perfect sangfroid.

It was Whittinghame's turn to look astonished.

"There's nothing like making the best of a bad job," he remarked as soon as he had mastered his feelings. "'Pon my soul you are a cool customer. I fully expected that you would have made a dash for it, when we reached the drive."

"There was nothing to prevent me from so doing," rejoined Dacres.

His host smiled.

"There you're wrong You gave your word you'd come quietly, and I wanted to test you. If you had attempted to escape you would have been laid by the heels in a brace of shakes. You honestly assert that you had no idea that my little airship had her head-quarters here when you broke through the fence?"

"No, I did not; but honestly I'm glad I found out."

"I am afraid your knowledge will be of no service to anyone save yourself until there is no further need for concealment, Mr. Dacres. I trust that your enforced detention will in no wise inconvenience you?"

"Not in the least," declared Dacres fervently. "I have no immediate plans."

"But Colonel Dacres?"

"Does not expect me."

"Excuse me, but would you mind telling me what you are?" asked Whittinghame. "If you do not feel inclined I will not press the point; but I am interested to know."

"What I am and what I was a few weeks ago are two very different conditions," said Dacres without hesitation. "I was once a British naval officer. Now I am a--well, one of the unemployed, I suppose."

"Sorry, 'pon my word," said the other sympathetically. "Let's hear your story--but wait: you must be famished. I'll get something to eat and drink."

With that Whittinghame left the room, ostensibly to order refreshment. He also took the opportunity of consulting the latest quarterly copy of the official Navy List.

"By Jove! I'm in luck," soliloquized Dacres. "Whittinghame's quite a decent sort. I may even be able to get him to let me have a trip with him. Anyway, it's something to occupy my mind, and since the governor doesn't know I'm in England our somewhat delicate interview can wait."

He looked round the room. There was nothing to denote the aerial propensities of his host. Over the mantelpiece was a pair of huge horns covered with a metallic substance resembling silver. On the walls were oil-paintings of country scenes which looked suspiciously like Constable's work. In one corner was a gun rack containing several twelve bores and rook-rifles; a few fishing-rods and a pair of waders occupied another. A smoker's cabinet stood on the massive oak table. The room might well be the den of an ordinary country gentleman.

Presently Whittinghame returned followed by a serving-man bearing a loaded tray.

"That will be all to-night, Williamson," said his master. "You can lock up and go to bed."

"Very good, sir."

"H'm!" thought Dacres, looking at the black-garbed man. "You're a bit of a quick-change artist, I know." For he recognized the fellow by his voice: he was the one who had been left to keep an eye on the captive when the airship returned.

"Now, set to," continued Whittinghame genially. "Then, if you're not too tired, we can yarn over a pipe."

Until Dacres commenced eating he had no idea how hungry he really was. The food was plain but appetizing, the cold ham especially, and he did hearty justice to the repast.

"Fill your pipe--or do you prefer a cigar?" asked his host pointing to the cabinet. "Try that chair; you'll find it fairly comfortable. By Jove! your boots are wet. Let me offer you some slippers."

"Yes, I feel sorry for your carpet," said Dacres apologetically as he stooped to unfasten his bootlaces.

For a few moments both men smoked in silence. Dacres felt that his host was watching him narrowly, yet he imperturbably puffed at his pipe.

"Look here, Dacres, old man," Whittinghame suddenly exclaimed, "what do you say? Will you ship along with me?"