The Man Without a Memory Part 61

"Certainly. What is it? Nothing gone wrong, I hope."

"That telephone call was from Lingen, from Captain Schiller; and I can't make head or tail of it. You will not be offended with me, I trust, if I tell you what he says--what I understood him to say, at least."

"My dear Mr. Harden, I hope I am not so foolish."

"Well, he appears to be under the impression that you are not here."

I burst out laughing. "Poor Schiller! He's always got a bee in his bonnet; keeps a regular hive always on tap. I wonder what the devil has put that rot into his head."

"From what I could gather--I trust you'll pardon my even mentioning it--he appears to think that you were too--well, that you had had more wine at the Halbermond for it to be quite safe for you to go."

I cursed Schiller, whoever he might be, volubly and sincerely, for an interfering jacka.s.s. "I think you can settle that for yourself, Harden."

"Oh yes, I told him so, but--but his reply was--was very singular. He said that you had had to be a.s.sisted into your car at Lingen, that it wasn't possible you could have thrown off the effects in the short time, and, in fact, that if you appeared to have done so, you could not be Lieutenant Vibach."

More cursing of Schiller from me. "He'll have to answer for this, I can a.s.sure you," I exclaimed fiercely. "What did you reply?"

"I explained the exceedingly awkward position in which it placed me; and he instructed me very peremptorily on no account to deliver No. 14 to you, even in face of the army order. Of course I was at a loss, so I asked him to speak to you on the telephone."

"I'd better do that," I replied readily. "There'll be the devil to pay if I don't turn up with it and the Colonel's told I was too drunk to go up. Schiller must be mad; stark, staring mad. He'll get me cashiered."

"He's holding the line, if you will come to my office."

It was the deuce of a crisis, and how to get over it worried me. But as we neared the office a thought struck me. "Look here, Harden, this must be met somehow. I'll get Schiller to run over here at once and we must be ready with proofs that I'm as sober as a judge and perfectly fit to take up No. 14. I understand your position entirely and don't mean you to be compromised in any way. I won't ask you to deliver No. 14; but I shall be personally obliged if you'll have the petrol tank of one of those planes out there filled, or any other you like, of course, and I'll show him whether I'm fit to take No. 14 up. Your evidence, too, may save me from absolute shipwreck."

"I'll do it with pleasure;" and he turned back to give the orders to the mechanics, while I went to the telephone in his office.

"Hullo!" I called.

"That you, Harden?" came the reply in an excited tone.

"Yes." I was likely to get more information as Harden, and tried to imitate his voice.

"I didn't recognize your voice for the moment. You haven't parted with No. 14, I hope?"

"No. Lieutenant Vibach's coming to speak to you."

"That's all right. This is a thousand times more serious than I knew just now. Vibach's here."

"What!" I cried.

"It's true. I've seen him. He's been half-killed, drugged, and stripped of his uniform. He was found locked in a wardrobe of one of the Halbermond's bedrooms."

"Good heavens!" I exclaimed, appropriately flabbergasted. "Then who's the man here?"

"The ruffian who did it, of course. Evidently a plot to get hold of one of our newest planes. The ruffian has stolen Vibach's uniform so as to personate him."

"Never heard such a thing in my life. What shall I do?"

"Keep him till we can get over."

"But he's armed, I expect."

"He'll have Vibach's revolver, of course. You'll have to be careful.

Perhaps the best thing will be to keep him in play. Let him think you're going to give him the bus, and let your men tinker with it for a quarter of an hour or so; I shall be with you by then; and when he speaks to me, I'll put him off the scent by saying I can't get over for an hour."

"I can manage that easily. He's coming now," I said, hearing Harden's voice in the outer room. I paused a moment or two, shuffled my feet, and then spoke in my own voice. "You there, Schiller?" I asked sharply.

"Yes. That you, Vibach?"

"I should think it is. Look here, what the d.i.c.kens is this tale you've been telling about me?"

He repeated the pith of what he had first told Harden, explaining that he was quite as anxious for my safety as for that of the plane. Harden entered as he was speaking, told me the bus was nearly ready and that he wished to say a word to Schiller when I'd finished. I nodded; and as he could only hear my half of the conversation, of course, I dovetailed it in to fit the position. The result was good enough to incline me to put a saint's halo round the head of the man who invented the 'phone.

"Of course that puts a different look on it, but you really ought to be more careful, Schiller. I'm as sober as a judge, man; Harden's standing by me now and he'll tell you the same in a minute."

"He told me so; but I was bound to take notice of what I heard. We can't risk the life of one of our best airmen and the loss of our newest type of bus----"

"Don't talk rot, man. I was never fitter in my life than I am at this moment. I've just arranged with Harden to prove that by taking up one of the old ones here."

This woke him up. "Eh? What's that?"

"Don't fool like that. Of course I'm not. Just a little spin round to show him that I can take charge of No. 14 all right."

"You'd better not do that, Vibach."

"Of course he does, man. Do you think he doesn't know enough to tell whether a man's drunk or sober. I can't make you out."

"Wait till I come over, Vibach. I can't get away directly; but I'll be with you in about an hour."

I laughed. "That shows which you're thinking of most, the bus or the pilot. But all the same I'm glad you approve the scheme. I don't want----"

"Let me speak to Harden a moment," he burst in very sharply. "I've forgotten something I want to tell him."

"Of course I'll be careful, you silly a.s.s."

"Did you hear what I said, Vibach?" he demanded in the tone of impatient authority. "Tell Harden to speak to me at once."

"Has that mechanic of mine turned up?"

Whoever Schiller might be, he was a hot-tempered fellow and curses began to be waved over the line. Intelligible enough, seeing that I had told him how I meant to escape.

"Not, eh? Well, clap him under arrest when he does. And look here, that woodenhead Fritz who drove me over chose to leave the car just when I wanted him to bring me here. That must be dealt with too. It might have been most serious. Any one could have run off with the car, you know."

Even this gratuitous piece of further information did not soothe him and more curses came along.

I laughed. "I thought you'd like to know that, Schiller."