The Great Airship: A Tale of Adventure.

His fat little face was deeply puckered and seamed for the next half-hour. In fact, Mr. Carl Reitberg was considering matters very deeply and seriously. Then he took a sudden resolution. He donned a magnificent fur-lined coat, jammed a glossy hat upon his head, then, with a fat cigar protruding from his mouth, and wearing the ideal appearance of a very rich and prosperous financier, he stepped into his motor car and drove off to the place where the great airship had been constructed. Sergeant Evans himself conveyed his somewhat large and obtrusive card to Andrew Provost.

"A gentleman to see you, sir," he said in his well-trained voice. "H-m!"

Andrew could tell almost without lifting his eyes to the Sergeant's face what his private opinion was of Mr. Reitberg; for the card bore that gentleman's name. Not that Sergeant Evans was apt to forget his position. He was too good and too old a servant for that. But he happened to have served in many parts, and, strangely enough, Mr. Reitberg was known to him.

"Ever seen the gentleman before?" asked Andrew curiously.

"South Africa, sir."

"Ah!"

"Him and a crew of the same sort as himself, begging pardon, sir."

"Humph! I've thought as much myself," Andrew muttered, though exactly what his thoughts were he did not divulge. Still, from the curious manner in which Sergeant Evans spoke, from a queer inflection of his voice, Andrew gathered that he had not only met this Carl Reitberg before, but had little good to report concerning him.

"Long ago?" he asked laconically.

"Twelve years come Christmas, sir; during the Boer War."

"Ah! And my acquaintance has lasted for ten years perhaps. He was rich when I met him, and very pleasant. Was he, er – the same, Sergeant Evans? Please speak out; don't hesitate to tell me what you know. You must understand that Mr. Carl Reitberg is the challenger who declared that the building of this ship was impossible, and that we could not construct and sail her round the world in nine months. Well, we've done the first part. We've got only to circle the world."

"And you'll have to watch him all the while, sir," whispered the Sergeant. "He's got to pay if he loses, sir?"

"One hundred thousand pounds."

The Sergeant let go a little whistle. "Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but when I knew this Carl Reitberg, same gentleman as is waiting outside, he was a slippery fellow. He was trading near Johannesburg, and he was in with foreigners, spies anxious to see the British troops beaten. I know that, for I was one of the police corps, and we'd our eyes on him. Show him up, sir?"

"Certainly."

It followed that the magnificent, if small and podgy frame of Mr. Carl Reitberg was introduced to the airship, and that within five minutes, puffing heavily with the astounding wonders he saw, that same gentleman was seated in the saloon, staring upward through the transparent ceiling with positive amazement written on his face. An hour later he was back in the heart of London, when, dismissing his motor, he walked some distance up the street, hailed a taxi, and drove rapidly away in an easterly direction. Half an hour later, perhaps, he was closeted in a back room of a grimy house adjacent to Whitechapel, with an individual who looked the very opposite of himself. He was untidy, down at heels, even ragged, while his face with its half-sunken cheeks showed obvious traces of excitement. It was equally obvious also that Carl Reitberg and this individual were not entire strangers. To be precise, they had at one time been bosom companions, at the very time, in fact, when Sergeant Evans had had knowledge of them. Then they had parted, and the queer tricks Dame Fortune plays with various individuals had resulted in Carl Reitberg gathering wealth about him, while Adolf Fruhmann had become almost a pauper. And it had chanced that the wealthy and lucky man had caught sight of his old-time friend but a week before as he drove in his lordly motor down Whitechapel. He had seen Adolf Fruhmann hovering at one of the many corners; and though he passed him then without so much as a nod – indeed, shrinking back out of sight – he now remembered the chance vision he had caught of the down-at-heels man, and with the view of obtaining help from him sought him out.

"But I must go carefully," he told himself, as he drove in his taxi. "I'll leave the cab very soon, and then walk along the pavement. It shall be Adolf who shall recognize me, not I him. Then it shall be he who shall ask for help; I will give it."

The crafty little fellow followed out this plan to its successful conclusion. Looking the plutocrat admirably, he stepped briskly down the pavement of Whitechapel, and when he saw his man in the distance, gave vent to a grunt of pleasure. And yet he contrived matters so that it was Adolf who, looking up as the fur-coated man passed, recognized an old partner.

"Hallo!" he called, while a sulky cloud gathered upon his sickly face. "Carl Reitberg of all people!"

Now at any other time Mr. Carl Reitberg would, as we have hinted, not have been anxious to renew an acquaintance with such a man. His wealth had brought with it position. Carl Reitberg chose to forget his earlier days, and the people with whom he had consorted. But now he had an object in view, and halting at once he allowed first a look of amazement to spread over his fat and jowly face; and then a welcoming smile set his lips apart, while he stretched out a hand to grip Adolf's.

"You!" he cried. "Who could have thought it? And here of all places. Why, we parted in South Africa."

"Johnny'sberg – yes; because the police – "

"H-hush! That's done with; I've forgotten," said Carl hastily. "But – but you're down on your luck. I haven't forgotten that we were friends then, at any rate. This place is too public for a meeting. Take me somewhere where we can be quiet."

And thus it happened that they were closeted in that back room in the grimy house adjacent to Whitechapel.

"And so you're down, penniless," said Carl, eyeing his one-time friend narrowly.

"Absolutely; hopelessly."

The opulent individual who had sought this interview so craftily lifted ten fat fingers to show his concern. Then he dipped with difficulty into a waistcoat pocket, pulled out a crinkling note of the value of five pounds, and handed it across the dirty table.

"That'll tide you over for a little," he said. "After that – "

"Ah! That's where the pinch comes. What am I to do?"

"You want work?" asked Carl.

"Well, yes. Not hard labour, mind you. The class of thing we did out in South Africa wouldn't come amiss."

Whatever that task may have been one was not to hear it, for Carl held up a fat hand instantly.

"S-s-sh!" he said, somewhat angrily. "Least said soonest mended. We forget South Africa. But – yes, I might find a task for you, a congenial task. You've heard of this new airship?"

Adolf Fruhmann looked puzzled. After all, when a man has fallen upon evil days and finds it hard to discover from where his next meal is to come, he is not apt to betray much interest in passing events, nor has he, often enough, spare halfpence with which to purchase journals. But it happened that Adolf had seen an account in a paper, and since the story had now leaked out, and it was known how Mr. Carl Reitberg had issued a challenge to Andrew Provost and his nephew Joseph Gresson, he recollected that he had even noted the name of his one-time friend and associate in connection with this wonderful airship.

"Yes," he ejaculated. "One hundred thousand pounds, eh, Carl? A lot to lose if they win, and it looks as if they might do so."

A crafty look came across his face. He leaned farther across the table and whispered something. "Why don't you?" he asked.

"What! Impossible! I couldn't. It would be scandalous," came the instant answer, though Carl Reitberg's tones rather belied his words. "You don't mean to suggest that I should take steps to – to destroy the ship?"

He endeavoured to cast a tone of indignation into his speech now; but it seemed that Adolf knew his man well. He scoffed at that tone.

"Why not?" he asked quickly. "If they win, you pay one hundred thousand pounds. Eh? One hundred thousand sovereigns."

"True – but – "

"There is no but. They must not succeed. There are others who would willingly pay for the secrets of this airship, and who long to hear that she has been wrecked. Give me the job. Keep in the background yourself. Go down to the ship and wish them the best of success. Place yourself in a good light before them and the world. Let them believe you to be what is known to these fools as a sportsman. Yes, that is the word. A sportsman, almost anxious to see yourself lose, and ready at any moment to pay that hundred thousand pounds. Then leave the rest to me."

Carl Reitberg sank back upon the hard-wood chair he occupied and pondered deeply. Even Adolf Fruhmann with all his knowledge of Carl's cunning – and in former days the two associates had carried out many a rascally piece of business together, demanding no little acumen and cunning – even he failed to see to the depths of Carl Reitberg. For the plutocrat had skilfully planned this meeting with one object in view, and had so arranged matters that this proposal, which he listened to with pretended indignation, and which had been hatched in his own brain, came actually from Adolf Fruhmann. To appear too ready to fall in with it would be to weaken his own position. Therefore he sat bunched up on his chair, one fat hand over his eyes, but those same orbs closely scrutinizing his companion's crafty features from between his own fat fingers. He remained in that position for a full five minutes, while Adolf fidgeted and fretted. For the man was eager to undertake this work, a task after his own rascally heart. He had not been engaged in South Africa, in delving for British secrets and in selling them to the enemy without something resulting. A born schemer, those experiences had whetted his appetite for more conspiracy. Besides, it was a game which promised wealth, while it had an element of danger that appealed to the rascal, for, to give him his due, he was a man of courage, a man who faced odds willingly, and who found in difficulties and danger the stimulus that whetted his efforts and gave a zest to an undertaking.

"Well," he demanded impatiently, "you know me by now. Have I failed before? There was that affair at Nicholson's Cloof. Did I fail there? Then why now? As for you, who is to learn that you are mixed up in the affair? Go down to these people. Pass yourself off as a sportsman, and – leave the rest to me."

Carl stirred. He took the fat hand from his face and looked at his companion. "How much?" he asked curtly. "What will you do this for?"

The remainder of their conversation was carried on in low tones and with the greatest earnestness. These two rascals, for both were that, bargained eagerly, and it was quite an hour later before they parted. Then Mr. Carl Reitberg passed out of the house, roughly pushed aside a poor woman who begged alms of him, hailed a taxi, and drove away to his gorgeous mansion. He left Adolf Fruhmann richer than he had been for many a day, with the promise of abundance in the future and sufficient money with which to carry on the plot so craftily hatched in that back room in the grimy house off Whitechapel. The following day found the magnate down at Joe Gresson's wonderful hangar again. He was geniality itself. He had come to wish the crew and the ship a safe voyage and a rapid one, and to hope that nothing might happen to arrest their progress or to damage the airship.

"To my old friend, Mr. Andrew Provost," he said, "and to his wonderful nephew, Mr. Joseph Gresson. May they return triumphant!"

Lifting the glass of wine he had been sipping and standing up he solemnly drank the health of the party. Then, with a cordial grip of the hand all round, he left the ship under the pilotage of Sergeant Evans. His tongue was in his cheek as he stepped on to the gangway which led to the floor of the hangar. He turned to wave his adieus to the people above, distinguishable through the framework of the vessel. And then he regarded the Sergeant with a puzzled expression.

"Strange," he said. "I seem to know your face, to have met you before."

"The other day, sir," came the respectful and guarded answer; "I took your card up to Mr. Andrew."

"Yes, that must be the explanation," Carl told himself, and departed satisfied. He was more than satisfied, in fact, and hugged himself in the depths of his motor car. For the interview had gone off wonderfully. A reporter who, thanks to his own skilful arrangement, had been present, proceeded at once to write up a glowing account of the meeting, and that evening the world learned that Mr. Carl Reitberg had been aboard the airship, where he had generously wished all the utmost success, had drank to their health, and had shown in every way that he was a sportsman. More than that, he had intimated his intention of at once depositing one hundred thousand pounds at his bankers', so that, in the likely event, as he hoped, of the successful termination of the venture, Mr. Andrew Provost might claim it instantly. What could be fairer or more magnanimous? What could be better calculated to throw dust in the eyes of the public, and, more important than all, in the eyes of the crew of the airship? Carl Reitberg not only hugged himself as he sank back amid the luxurious cushions of his landaulette. He chuckled loudly. He rubbed his fat hands unctuously together and positively grinned. Yes, he had been wonderfully canny and successful. It remained now for the crafty Adolf Fruhmann to carry on the conspiracy and see it to a successful ending.

"Bah! Thought he'd seen me before. Didn't let on that it was out in South Africa," Sergeant Evans was murmuring as he entered the vessel again. "Now if I know Mr. Reitberg he ain't up to any good. He's a foxy fellow at any time, the chap who sits at home and does the gentleman, while those friends of his carry out the scheme that he's after. Well, I for one will keep an eye open."

The three days which passed after Mr. Midshipman Hamshaw added his important presence to the airship were decidedly busy ones. He himself had his kit to obtain and friends to say farewell to. And then there was the victualling of the ship, a matter of great importance. All day and night carts arrived at the hangar, and the crew of the ship, composed almost entirely of soldiers and sailors, were engaged in piling cases upon the lift and hoisting them into the interior of the vessel. Sufficient tinned goods were taken to last the party for five months. There was fuel to be considered, and one had to remember that a journey of the description contemplated demanded various weights of clothing, weapons, ammunition, in fact a hundred and one items. But at length, thanks to Joe Gresson's foresight and Andrew Provost's energy, they were gathered and stored in the huge storage rooms of the vessel. The hangar swung round easily with her head away from the wind, while the motors began to rumble. Stationed with Joe in the engine-room Alec and Dick watched the young inventor gently handle a lever, and looking backward saw the gigantic propeller reverse. The ship moved. Those wide lateral keels running upon rollers inserted in the wide slots on either side, which were part and parcel of the hangar, began to slide gently away from their holding. The ship backed slowly and surely out of her hangar till she was entirely clear. A bell sounded in the engine-room, while a voice was heard through the loud-speaking telephone. It was from Hurst, now trained to new duties, and at that moment stationed on the upper deck, right on the prow of the vessel.

"All clear, sir," he called. "She backed forty feet from the hangar. All clear."

Another bell sounded. "All clear aft," came from Hawkins, stationed near the propeller.

"Then we ascend. What's the time?" asked Joe.

"Eight thirty, sir," answered Dick promptly. "Eight thirty p.m."

"Precisely; and the day is Wednesday?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then in one hundred and twenty-four days, less three hours and thirty minutes from this moment, we are due to return. If we are here then, and our foreign office passport has been properly initialled, then we shall have won the challenge. We can let her go. Stand by there! I'm going to take her up quickly. Then London shall have a glimpse of their ship, and afterwards – "

"Yes, afterwards?" asked Commander Jackson, who had now joined them.

Joe shrugged his shoulders. "Who can say? I myself have confidence in the vessel. But accidents may happen. We might be delayed by the smallest and most unexpected circumstance. We can but make the attempt."

"And win or lose I shall be satisfied," chimed in Andrew. "Let her go."

The motors roared. Those elevator fans within the ship whirled at a giddy rate, and at once the gigantic framework shot upward till she was two thousand feet above the hangar. Then Joe touched another lever. The propeller in rear began to sing its own strange note. The ship moved forward and that adventurous voyage had begun.

"Starting's easier than returning," Mr. Carl Reitberg told himself with a chuckle when he read of the departure of the ship on the following morning and of her appearance over London. "Let 'em wait a bit. Adolf Fruhmann has yet a word or so to say in the matter."

CHAPTER VII

En Route for Adrianople

"And now, gentlemen, to discuss our route," said Mr. Andrew Provost once London was left behind, with its gaping and wildly-cheering crowds, amid which Carl Reitberg had a place, and the rascally Adolf Fruhmann also. "We are hovering at this moment over the Straits of Dover, and since, if our tour of the world is to be complete, we must waste no time, it will be as well if we map out a course without further delay."

In his practical manner he had provided himself with a huge globe, which now stood in the centre of the saloon table, with those who were to tour the world on the giant airship seated about it.

"Gentlemen," he went on, "the earth – or, rather, I should have said, the air – the air is before you and around you. Choose your path. To me and to my nephew the course we take is immaterial, with just this one reservation. We wish to take a path which will give us facilities for picking up both water and fuel. Now!"

Looking round the brightly-illuminated saloon he invited first the Commander, then Alec, and then Dick to give an opinion. But all in turn shook their heads.

"No, no," said the former eagerly. "To me it matters not a jot which course we take. Choose yourself. Or, if you merely ask for a suggestion, let us take the all-red route. Let us fly so as to pass over and call in upon as many British possessions as possible. There! That is a pleasant scheme. Why not?"

"Why not, indeed? Excellent!" cried Andrew. "Now, let us trace the route. But wait; there is one other to be consulted. I refer to Major Harvey, who came aboard just before we started. Perhaps he has some special wishes; let us consult him."

Sergeant Evans was at once sent to summon the latest guest aboard, and within a few minutes there entered the saloon a tall, well-set-up man of perhaps forty years of age, well groomed, spruce, and of active appearance, with features which might be described as prepossessing, while there was a firmness about the chin and a steadiness of the eyes which showed that the newcomer was possessed of courage. In short and in fact he was the beau ideal of a soldier, while his manner was easy and distinctly friendly. Nodding to all, for he had been introduced some three hours before, he sat himself down and looked across at Andrew.

"You sent for me," he said crisply, in a matter-of-fact way, even more businesslike than that of his host. "What is the question? Can I be of service?"

"Certainly, Major. There is a globe; you know already that we have been, as it were, challenged to tour the world, to make a complete circle of the globe. Well, then, choose a route for us. Commander Jackson suggests an all-red route, which shall take us over British possessions. If that meets with your approval, well and good. If not, then where shall we go – what course shall we steer?"

For answer the Major slowly rose from his seat, and, crossing to the table, carefully and critically examined the globe. Then he drew a packet of papers from his pocket, and, selecting one, handed it to Andrew.

"For me all courses are the same," he said with a smile; "but since I take it that from here to the centre of Europe is but a step for this magnificent vessel, I should be glad of the opportunity of visiting one part comparatively but a stone's throw from here. I speak of the Balkans. Please read that letter."

Andrew slowly opened the envelope, drew out the contents, and then donned his glasses. Adjusting them at the correct angle upon his nose, he held the letter up and read aloud.

"Adrianople, Thursday evening, 16 January, 1913."

"Adrianople!" cried the Commander. "That's the city now besieged for so long by the Bulgarian armies."

"Quite so; closely besieged," admitted the Major. "Very closely."

"Ahem!" Andrew cleared his throat. "You wish me to read it aloud?" he asked, waving the letter at the Major.

"Certainly."

"Then here it is. 'Dear Harvey, I write to inform you that I am held here in Adrianople, and should the siege continue much longer, the value of the information I have gained will be lost. But I cannot dispatch it in this letter. This must pass the scrutiny of both friends and enemies. Therefore it but announces my presence here, where I live as best I can. Please explain my continued absence to our mutual friends. Yours, Charlie.'"

Andrew took his glasses from his nose slowly, glanced sideways at the letter, and then direct at the Major. There was a puzzled look upon his face, a polite enquiry as much as to say, "Well, my dear sir, I don't understand. What has your friend Charlie to do with us? He's in Adrianople; so are scores of others. There's a British consul there, no doubt. Why should we go to this besieged city?"

Commander Jackson coughed; similar thoughts were passing through his quick brain also, though he gave his soldier friend credit for astuteness and common sense. "Must be something behind this letter," he said aloud.

"Certainly; Charlie knew that many eyes would see it before I received his hurried lines," said the Major. "But let me explain what it is that I gather by the reading of that letter. First, that Charlie is hemmed in in this besieged city. Next, that he has information which he cannot send through the post, or by means of a runner escaping from or permitted to leave the city. In fact and in short he has information of value, value to our mutual friends, who, I may further explain, happen to be the Government."

"Ah, I suspected something of the sort! What next?" asked Andrew.

"I will be frank," came the answer. "For the past three years Charlie and I have been engaged in some extremely delicate and important investigations in and around the Balkans. Pardon me if I am not more explicit on this matter. I left for London some two months ago, having lost all trace of Charlie. Now I know him to have obtained the information which we sought, information which, owing to the sudden onset of war and the siege of Adrianople, he is unable to impart. Well, Mr. Provost, that information is wanted by the Government at once. Delay is positively dangerous. I ask you in the name of this country to risk a visit to Adrianople and there attempt to pick up my friend and fellow investigator."

There was silence for perhaps two minutes, while the various people present in the saloon glanced at one another curiously, to see if possible what their fellows thought. Then Andrew spoke briskly and with marked decision.

"There will be guns about Adrianople?" he asked; "guns capable of sending shells high into the air? Mortars, in fact?"

"Precisely; there will be siege batteries. The Bulgars are wonderfully equipped. The Turks also, hemmed in in Adrianople, have some marvellous pieces."

"Any one of which, by exploding a shell within distance of us, could wreck the ship?"

The Major nodded. "True enough," he said coldly. "The risk would be great. If you are seen, a thousand rifles will be pointed at you. A hundred guns will be manœuvred so as to aim into the sky. The risk will be very great; I do not deny it."