King of the Air Part 3

A tall loose-limbed young fellow had come into the drive from a side path, and was walking with great strides towards the gate. He was bareheaded; his black hair tumbled over a brow unusually high and broad.

No other feature was noticeable except his eyes, which were large, deep blue in colour, and shot with a strange glow. He was dressed in a loose suit of what appeared to be blue alpaca, which was plentifully bestained.

By this time Timothy had opened the gate and given admittance to the visitor. Tom Dorrell came up, held out his hand, and said in quick decisive tones-

"How d'you do, Mr.--?"

"Schwab, sir-Hildebrand Schwab, rebresentative of ze firma Schlagintwert, all orders punctually eggzecuted."

"Sorry to keep you waiting. Very busy, you know; if you had given me notice--"

"Ach! I come on ze hop, sir."

Tom smiled.

"Well, glad to see you, anyway. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Sir, zat is vat I ask you. You give orders, first cla.s.s, for our Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six; but my firma zink you do not know, perhaps, zat zey do many ozer zinks beside Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six. Vy, zere is nozink vat ve do not do, nozink at all. Ve can supply anyzink-soft goots, musical boxes, hair oil--"

"I know, I know," said Tom. "I have your price list."

"But not ze new vun-revise and correck carte," returned Schwab, pulling from his pocket a bulky volume in red paper cover. "Viz gompliments!"

"Thanks! Now, I am very busy--"

"Shust so! Business are business! Not for ze vorld vould I stand in ze light. Only bermit me shust vun vord. Ze orders you give for Photographic Sensitizer Preparation Number Six, vy, zey are immense, colossal; and you pay on ze nail. My firma get no such orders novere, and zey are surprise, because Number Six is new zink; it is not long zat it is on ze market. Vy zen come so large orders from so little place?

Zey zink zere are business to be done; zerefore am I here."

"Well, you can't expect the merits of the stuff to be known all at once."

"Shust so. Zerefore I come! Schlagintwert say: 'Mr. Dorrell use a great lot of P.S.P. No. 6; zerefore muss it be vair goot; go and see Mr.

Dorrell; perhaps he be so kind to give testimonial-zat vill be goot business.'"

"Afraid I can't do that. You see, I don't use it in photography, and that is what you advertise it for."

"But ve vill advertise it for anyzink you please!"

"My use of it is secret at present."

"Zen ve vill buy ze secret! Ve are vair rich firma."

"But it wouldn't be a secret then."

"Zat is true, but it vould be business. Zere vill be patent rights, perhaps; vell, ve buy zem; ve buy anyzink zat is goot business."

"No, I haven't taken out a patent. It is very good of you, Mr. Schwab, if at any time--"

"Ach! Vat you call any time!-zat is no time. Now, now is ze time. I am in zis country only few days. I go soon to Morocco for business. I suffer egstremely from sea-illness, but for business I go anyvere. Zink how it vould console me in ze Bay of Biscay to know zat I had done goot business for Schlagintwert-and for you, Mr. Dorrell."

"Sorry. Really I can't say any more, Mr. Schwab. I _must_ go; look me up again, if you like, when you get back from Morocco."

Recognizing that Tom was not to be drawn, the German swallowed his disappointment, took leave in most expansive terms, and was soon jogging back in the direction from which he had come. But finding, on arriving at the station, that he had an hour to wait for his train, he introduced himself to the station-master and tactfully led the conversation to Midfont House and its owner, Mr. Greatorex. What he learnt in the course of it was something to the following effect.

Some years before, Mr. Greatorex had discovered a taste for mechanics in the son of the village smith at Barton Abbas, twenty miles away. He had put the boy to a good school, often had him at Midfont House in the holidays, and paid his fees at the university in the neighbouring town, where the boy took honours in mechanics and engineering at a very early age. Then, about a year before this time, Mr. Greatorex had fenced in a large piece of waste ground on his estate, erected a workshop in the middle of it, and given it up entirely to young Dorrell, who was now apparently a permanent inmate of his house. What went on in the workshop the station-master did not know. The enclosure was kept strictly private; n.o.body outside the family was ever allowed to pa.s.s its borders.

The station-master believed that young Dorrell was inventing a motor-car; it was said that Mr. Greatorex's interest in him dated from the day when the boy had repaired some trifling mishap which had befallen his car on the road.

The effect of this information on Herr Schwab was greater than the station-master ever knew. When the train came in, the German got into it; but he alighted at the next station two miles off, and trudged back over the road until he once more stood at the gate of Midfont House. It was now dark. Schwab did not this time pull the bell. He walked on past the gate for a good quarter of a mile, then halted at a large heap of stones collected for mending the road.

There were no wayfarers at this late hour; n.o.body saw how this big figure in the frock-coat employed himself. He filled his glossy hat with flints from the heap, carried it to the foot of the fence, and emptied it there, returning for another hatful. After an hour's patient work a pile of stones stood some three feet high against the fence. Mopping his damp brow, dusting the inside of his hat, and replacing it on his head, Schwab mounted the pile, clambered over the fence, and dropped down somewhat heavily on the other side. Not till that moment had he given a thought to the means of getting back; and looking up at the fence, the top of which was quite beyond his reach, he uttered a low guttural exclamation of dismay. But the die was cast! Consumed by his curiosity to learn more about this mysterious workshop, in the way of business, he had come thus far, and as there was apparently no going back he decided to make his way forward.

He found himself in an extensive meadow, bordered by trees. No habitation was in sight. The moon threw a little light on the scene, and, after walking for some minutes over the gra.s.s, he perceived a long low oblong building which, as he drew nearer, he saw was built of wood, with no windows in the walls, but having fanlights in the sloping roof.

There was but one door.

"Ich hoffe da.s.s die Thur nicht verriegelt ist!" he muttered as, glancing apprehensively round, he approached to try the handle. He was not conscious of anything improper in this nocturnal enterprise: was it not all in the way of business?

He came to the door, and grasped the handle....

When he recovered consciousness he found himself on his back on the gra.s.s. In his right hand there was a feeling as if it had been burnt to the bone. With many sighs and groans he rose, sought for his hat, and, turning his back on the workshop, limped sadly towards the fence. His whole body tingled with the electric shock. Bitterly he lamented his unhappy zeal for business. What an abominable device for protecting the premises! And there was that terrible fence to be climbed, or he would have to remain all night in the field, a.s.suredly to be discovered in the morning and suspected of felonious intent. He remembered that Timothy Ball had spoken of his master as a magistrate, and saw himself already, frock-coat, silk hat and all, in a felon's cell.

Shaken to the core he came to the fence, and spent a weary hour in groping up and down, trying to find an outlet. At length, when he had almost given up hope, and was trying to steel his soul against the exposure of the morrow, he reached a tree whose branches overhung the fence. It was more than thirty years since, as a boy, he had climbed a tree in sport; who could have foreseen that now, a man of bulk, he would be forced to attempt the feat in the interests of business? And his right hand was so desperately painful! Luckily the trunk was gnarled and a branch hung low. He tried to heave himself up, and his hat fell off.

He picked it up and shied it impatiently over the fence. Then he tried again, and felt in the extremity of despair when he heard the _oosh_ of tearing silk. Alas! for his new frock-coat! But he was at least safely on the bough. He worked himself along it, dreading lest it should snap, and conscious of the inconvenience of fourteen stone. Happily he was now on the right side of the fence. He dropped, and alighted in a bed of nettles. He got up, found his hat, mechanically brushed it with his sleeve, and set it on his head.

"Ach! Ich unglucklicher!" he sighed as he set off up the road.

CHAPTER III-TOM MAKES EXPERIMENTS

The information given to Herr Schwab by the Midfont station-master was accurate up to a certain point. Mr. Greatorex had indeed const.i.tuted himself the beneficent patron of Tom Dorrell, educated him, entertained him at Midfont House, and built for him a workshop in the grounds. So far the station-master was right. But when he added that Tom was working at a new motor-car, he stated a hypothesis, not a fact.

About a year before this time, when Tom came to Midfont House to spend a month's holiday, he brought with him a small model of an aerial machine on which he had been quietly working in leisure moments. He showed it to Mr. Greatorex.

"Very pretty," said the worthy merchant, examining the toy; "but it won't _go_."

"Oh yes it will," said Tom. "See!"

They were in Mr. Greatorex's study at the time. Tom poised the model on his left hand, released a spring, and the little aeroplane, with a whizz and a hum, soared across the room, and, before it could be stopped, dashed against the gla.s.s door of a bookcase and shivered it to atoms.

"I'm awfully sorry," said Tom contritely, picking up the machine and silencing it.

"What _are_ you doing, John?" said Mrs. Greatorex, opening the door.

"What a terrible mess!" she added, surveying the litter on the floor.

"It shall be swept up, my dear," said Mr. Greatorex. "You can't make omelets without breaking _eggs_, my love."

Mrs. Greatorex looked a little puzzled.