He led the way to a luxurious cabin which was fitted up as a dining-room. On the table were champagne and a variety of sandwiches.
“We will regard this as a holiday for you,” he remarked. “And if you behave yourself there is no reason why it shouldn’t prove a very pleasant one. After it is over you will have to refill the tank for us, but for the next three or four days let us merely enjoy ourselves.”
We were flying eastwards—I could tell that by the light; and I peered out of the window, trying to see if I could spot where we were.
“A beautiful sight, isn’t it?” said Wilmot. “And when the sun rises it is even more beautiful. Lord Grayling and the Earl of Dorset both agreed that to see the dawn from such a vantage-point was to see a very wonderful sight.”
“In God’s name,” I burst out, “what does it all mean?”
He smiled as he selected a sandwich.
“Just your scheme, my dear fellow,” he answered. “Your scheme in practice.”
“But there’s no war on,” I cried.
“No. There’s no war on,” he agreed.
“Then why have you filled the ballast tanks with poison?”
“You may remember that I once pointed out to you the weak point in your scheme,” he answered. “There was no money in it. In the course of the next few days you are going to see that defect remedied, I trust.
“Of course,” he went on after a while, “this is only going to be quite a small affair. It’s in the nature of a trial run: just to accustom everyone to what they have to do when the big thing comes along. And that’s why I’ve brought you along. You have had, I gather, a little lesson over not doing what you’re told, and I feel sure that you will give me no further trouble. But one never knows that some little hitch may not occur, and should it do so in your particular department, it will be up to you to rectify it.”
But I haven’t the time to give that devil’s conversation in full. I can see him now, suave and calm, seated at the table smoking a cigar whilst he played with me as a cat plays with a mouse. Utterly ignorant then as to what was going to happen, much of it was lost on me. Now I can see it all.
It conveyed nothing to me then that the British public was keenly interested in the airship: that tours at popular prices were given twice a week: that there was talk of floating a company in the City.
“Not that that is ever likely to come off, my dear Gaunt,” he remarked, “though if it did, of course, I should have no objection to taking the money. But it instils confidence in the public mind: makes them regard me as an institution. And an institution can do no wrong. You might as well suspect the Cornish Riviera express of robbing the Bank of England.”
There lies the diabolical ingenuity of it all. Did I not hear from the cabin where they kept me bound and gagged—guarded by two men—did I not hear him showing two members of the Royal Family over the vessel? That was while we were tied up to the mooring mast before we started.
Did we not go for a four-hour trip with thirty people on board, amongst them some of the highest in the land? He told me their names that night, with a vile mocking smile on his face.
“But why,” I shouted at him, “why?”
“All in good time,” he answered. “I am just showing you what an institution I am.”
That’s it: and will anyone believe what I am going to write down? I see it all now: the tin mine ostensibly being worked as a tin mine; in reality merely a cloak to disguise the making of the poison. As he said, it had to be in a deserted place by the sea, because the ship had to take supplies on board.
He’s told me everything: he knows I’m in his power. He seems to take a delight in tormenting me: in exposing for my benefit the workings of his vile brain. But he’s clever: diabolically clever.
It was two days ago that they let me out of my cabin. The airship was in flight, and looking out I saw that we were over the sea. They took me into the dining-cabin, and there I saw Wilmot and a woman. She was smoking a cigarette, and I saw she was very beautiful. She stared at me with a sort of languid interest: then she made some remark to Wilmot at which he laughed.
“Our friend Helias has a strong right arm,” he remarked. “Well, Gaunt—very soon now your curiosity is going to be satisfied. We have ceased to be commercial: we’re going to go and stop your war. But we still remain an institution. Have you ever heard of Mr. Cosmo Miller?”
“I have not,” I said.
“He is an American multimillionaire, and at the moment he is some forty miles ahead of us in his yacht. If you look through that telescope you will be able to see her.”
I glanced through the instrument, and saw away on the horizon the graceful outlines of a steam yacht.
“A charming boat—the Hermione,” he went on. “It goes against the grain to sink her.”
“To do what?” I gasped.
“Sink her, my dear Gaunt. She is, one might say, your war. She is also the trial run to give us practice for other and bigger game.”
I stared at him speechlessly: surely he must be jesting.
“Considerate of Mr. Miller to select this moment for his trip, wasn’t it? Otherwise we might have had to try our ’prentice hand on less paying game. At any rate he has sufficient jewellery on board to pay for our running expenses if nothing more.”
“But, good God!” I burst out, “you
