The Dirigibles of Death (6 page)

"Sure," I told him. "Sit down and be comfortable."

"If I am not mistaken, you are an American, Mr. Nash," he began.

"Surest thing you know," I told him.

"And a photographer by profession?" he continued.

I told him he was right again.

"And may I take the liberty of inquiring who it was who, a few moments before I arrived, was conversing with you by telephone from New York?"

"You can take the liberty of asking," says I, getting a bit peeved at a stranger butting in and asking personal questions. "But whether or not I tell you is my business."

He grinned the sort of grin that Englishmen know how to grin. "I cannot blame you for resenting my seemingly impertinent questions," he said. "I should have introduced myself." He handed me a card. "Hubert Landon" was the name, but I hardly saw that, because what he said just about put me on the mat for the count.

"I come from Scotland Yard," he said, as calm as you please, "and I trust you will see fit to reply to my questions, Mr. Nash."

"You bet I will," I told him. "Though why the devil Scotland Yard or the police are interested in me or my pal over in New York is beyond me. I haven't been doing anything as far as I know. Well, you asked who he was. He's Bob Johnson."

"Hm, and may I ask what he referred to when he spoke of your 'shot' and how he happened to know that airplanes were cruising over London and that an explosion took place? And to what did he refer when he mentioned 'two blimps'?"

Well, what could I do, I ask you, but tell him the whole works after first getting him to promise that he wouldn't give away Bob's invention.

For a time he didn't seem to believe it, but I showed him the machine and explained the way I'd taken photos at night with the ray, and showed him some I'd taken at night about London.

"Mr. Nash," he exclaimed, "your statement is astounding, most astounding and most extraordinary. But, if what you say is true—and personally I am convinced it is—the entire British nation will be in your debt. Would you mind accompanying me to Scotland Yard? I would like to have you repeat your statements to those who are my superiors."

Well, to cut a long story short, I went along and took the machine with me and Mr. Landon took me to see the Chief, and after I'd told him my story and had shown him the photos, he took me over to a big place in Whitehall, where I met Sir Kenyon McDonald —Gosh, I wonder if these British chappies never sleep, but work all night—and told him the same story all over again. Well, Sir Kenyon was mighty nice and so was the Chief and they asked if I'd mind taking another shot after calling Bob by phono and telling him I was going to try it, and I did, and he phoned back it was okay, and everyone was as excited as Englishmen can be.

But all the time I was worrying over Bob's secret getting out and I told Sir Kenyon about that. But he told me that I could rest easy on that score. He would answer personally for the secret of Bob's being safeguarded, he said. In fact, he promised that in view of the great service Bob and I had rendered England (though I didn't get what at the time) he would secure a Letters Patent for Bob free of all expense, if Bob would send on a description and drawings of his invention.

Well, that's about all I can tell. Only it seemed that by using the ray Bob had discovered they could photograph the sky at night and spot the blimps. But there was something else they didn't get until I asked them what had caused the two blimps to blow up.

"By Jove!" exclaimed Sir Kenyon, and "By Jove!" cried the Chief, and "By Jove!" said Mr. Landon, all in one breath.

Then—"Mr. Nash," says Sir Kenyon, "I have always been a great admirer of Yankee ingenuity and brains, but I have never hitherto had such a convincing demonstration as at the present moment. The explosion! By Jove! Of course—it was the ray! Mr. Nash, you and your associate, Mr. Johnson have, I believe, saved England."

Major Leighton Resumes

I was still working day, and most of the night, on the mechanisms of the dirigibles, without having gotten much nearer a solution of their puzzles than ever, when—about eleven o'clock one night—I was ordered to report in London with all possible speed.

Within the hour I was in Whitehall, and entering the offices of Sir Kenyon McDonald—to whom I had been instructed to report—I found him in earnest conversation with General Sir Edward Brassington and a young red-headed, freckle-faced chappie who, I felt sure, was an American.

"Ah! Here you are!" exclaimed General Brassington, scarcely acknowledging my salute, and leaping to his feet. "Lost no time en route, I see. Good! Major Leighton, let me introduce Mr. Nash of New York, a young man to whom the British nation owes a debt it never can repay, and who—if I am not vastly mistaken—has saved England."

I stared at the fellow, Nash, in amazement. What, I wondered, was Sir Edward talking about? What was all this about this youngster saving England, et cetera? He was a jolly-looking chappie, but hardly more than a boy, and was blushing furiously as he shook hands and the general spoke. And I must say he did not appear in the least like a saviour of the country, a hero or a master-mind, you know. Still I knew there must be something back of it all, for General Brassington and Sir Kenyon would not be here at this ungodly hour and would not have summoned me from Aldershot and would not be talking with young Nash, unless something important was in the air.

“Now, Major," continued Sir Edward, "take a cigar and a chair and listen to the most amazing thing that's happened yet, eh, Sir Kenyon?"

Sir Kenyon nodded and the general cleared his throat

"As you know," he began, "we've been keeping a strict censorship on all outgoing and incoming mails, cables, radio and telephone messages. In doing so, we came upon several communications addressed to Mr. Nash which, to us, appeared a bit suspicious and puzzling. Among them a cable mentioning 'shots' and advising Nash to 'try a night shot.' Quite naturally we kept a pretty sharp eye on our young friend here. Detective Sergeant Landon being assigned to his case. No use in going into irrelevant details, but suffice to say that this evening—no, last evening—Nash was seen to place some sort of a mechanism in his window. It resembled a cinema camera, but Landon, who was watching from a distance, observed that it emitted a faint pinkish glow. The next instant there was a terrific detonation from the sky. As Landon had noted that one of our scouts was patrolling overhead, his first thought was that the airplane had blown up, but to his amazement the hum of the motor continued. Feeling certain that Nash and his machine had some connection with the explosion, Landon hurried to the nearest call-station to report, and then dashed off to Nash's place—a residential hotel in Earl's Court. He was informed that Nash had been called by telephone from New York, and at once cut-in on the wire and overheard a portion of the conversation that astounded him. The voice from America informed Nash that it had got the shot —Westminster Tower, Big Ben, trees, houses, et cetera, and up in the sky three big planes. Then it asked 'What the devil were those two black blimps that exploded?'

"As a result, Sergeant Landon interviewed Mr. Nash at once and learned that the mechanism was a newly-invented apparatus for transmitting radio television, that Nash had been testing it out, and that, owing to a newly discovered light or ray, the device could transmit night scenes as clearly as though they were in daylight. In proof of this he exhibited several photographs that he had taken—so he declared—at night by means of the ray. It was all most extraordinary and amazing, but Landon was convinced of the truth of the astonishing story, for he had heard the voice in New York stating that the scene had been received and mentioning three planes and the two explosions, which could not, by any possibility, have been known to him, if he had not received the transmitted view as Nash claimed. At all events, Nash brought the apparatus to Sir Kenyon here, and had explained the entire device to us both, and we are both fully convinced that not only does this seemingly magical ray have the power of rendering visible these objects that otherwise are invisible in the darkness, but that it also possesses some inexplicable, but nevertheless actual power to destroy the damnable enemy's airships at a distance. You can see, Major Leighton, what a tremendously important thing it is. Not only can we now detect all the ships arriving during the night, determine where they are about to land and thus be in readiness to give them a warm reception, but we can do more—we can annihilate them—destroy them utterly in the air. Do you not agree with me that the British nation owes Mr. Nash an inestimable debt of gratitude?"

"I can understand that the invention will prove of real value in revealing the whereabouts of the airships," I replied. "But I do not have any faith in the device exploding the ships. You see, Sir Edward, they are filled with helium gas which, as everyone knows, is non-explosive."

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "By Jove! But in that case. Major, how do you account for the explosion over London last night?"

"Probably merely a coincidence," I replied. "I don't believe this little device"—I indicated the apparatus standing near—"had anything to do with it. I cannot believe a tiny light—no brighter than a radio tube— could possibly have any effect upon an object thousands of feet distant."

General Brassington smiled and stroked his moustache, and his eyes twinkled with amusement. "H-mm, but my dearMajor Leighton, if helium gas is non-explosive, how could the blasted things explode even if they were not affected by Mr. Nash's device, but went off merely by coincidence?"

I flushed. The general had me in a bit of a corner, so to say. "Perhaps," I suggested, "those particular ships were not filled with helium gas. Possibly the makers are running short of helium and are resorting to hydrogen. And with such a mass of electrical devices liable to produce a spark or a short circuit, a hydrogen-filled ship would be exceedingly likely to go off."

"I cannot say that I agree with you," he stated. "But at all events we are simply wasting valuable time by discussing theories and suppositions. What I desire is a positive test—that is why I sent for you, Major. I want you to take Mr. Nash and his device to the vicinity of the nearest of the recently arrived ships— the one that came down two days ago near Chiselhurst is the most accessible I believe, and determine once and for all if it can be exploded by his ray. Have him set up the device at a safe distance—say a thousand yards —and start it going. If no result follows, we will know it had no connection with the explosion last night; but if, on the other hand—off with you, Major, for I shall remain here until you return and I'm getting damnably sleepy."

I must confess that I felt a bit excited as we stopped the car about eight hundred yards from the dirigible, whose dim bulk could be seen against the sky looming above the alder thicket in which it had landed. It was an excellent subject for our tests, for there were no houses in the vicinity and it was fully a half-mile from the main road with no chances of any human beings being in the vicinity. For that matter, no one ever went near one of the things—everyone gave them a wide berth, for the dread of disease and their gruesome character kept everyone off.

Young Nash seemed perfectly cocksure of himself and chattered on in his extraordinary slangy way as he set up the device upon which so much depended. I really liked the lad, he was so effervescent and friendly, and throughout our trip from town, he had kept me jolly well laughing all the time with his quaint observations and original comments on his experiences in England. Presently the apparatus was adjusted and ready. "Here she goes!" Nash exclaimed. "Gee, I wonder if Bob happens to be looking into the receiver just now. Gosh won't he get a kick out of it if he is? Hold your ears, Major, because there's going to be an all-fired big bang in about ten seconds. Are you ready? One, two, three—go!"

There was a faint pinkish glow in the front of the apparatus, a low hum like a badly tuned-in radio and then—a volcano seemed to burst into eruption, the entire earth seemed to shake, the whole country was lit up with a vivid glare, and I was deafened by the terrific detonation as the airship exploded with the report of a sixteen-inch gun. Then silence, darkness. Awed and astounded, I remained for a moment gazing transfixed with amazement at the spot where, a moment before, the ovoid form of the ship had loomed against the sky. Not a trace of it remained; the alder thicket had vanished. Nash's voice broke the spell.

"Some bust-up, I'll tell the cock-eyed world," he remarked. "Well, Major, what do you know about the little old ray now?"

I grasped his hand, patted him on the back, fairly waltzed him about in the delirium of my delight. Helium or not, whatever was in that huge metal container had been exploded by the invisible force emanating from the tiny pink glow in the machine. England was saved! I could visualize hundreds, thousands of the devices, each sending out its invisible, terrible rays, forming a barrage over the entire country, a screen of rays that would instantly destroy any of the airships that might approach.

I drove back to London at breakneck speed and burst into the room where General Brassington and Sir Kenyon were awaiting us.

Very evidently my face told the story, for the general grinned and rose.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "So helium gas is explosive after all, Major! I can see the test was most successful. Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to get an hour or two of sleep. I'm not as young as I was once, and I find late hours—no—" with a laugh—"early hours— tell on me. Good night—er, rather, good morning, Sir Kenyon and Major Leighton, and—er—Mr. Nash."

Tired as I was and late—or early—as was the hour, I slept little, for my mind was filled with what I had witnessed and was busy planning the campaign to follow. Of course, the most essential and all-important matter was to manufacture tens of thousands of the ray-producing devices. But here we were, literally up a tree, as the Americans say. Nash himself hadn't the most remote idea of how the ray was produced or the chemicals used in its production. It was in fact, a secret known only to his friend, Johnson, and Johnson was in New York. Ponderous machinery can, however, move with rapidity in an emergency, and before I had left Sir Kenyon, long messages in code had been sent to the British Ambassador in Washington; all ordinary communications had been ordered off in order to permit Nash to carry on an hour's telephone conversation with his partner in New York, and arrangements had been completed for Johnson to be rushed to England by our fastest cruiser in American waters.