So Disdained (11 page)

Arner nodded wearily. "You'd better carry on straight ahead. Moran is completely in my confidence. You can speak plainly to him."

I shifted uneasily in my chair.

Arner reached out slowly for a cigar, and lit it. Dermott turned to me. "I understand that you were a pilot in the war, Mr. Moran," he said.

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"Of a sort," I replied. "I was never anything to write home about."

He smiled. "Still, with that experience you'll probably be able to give me a lot of help. First of all, I think I'd better give you the outlines of this—this espionage. You'll see better then what we want to know."

He paused. "There's something going on at Portsmouth," he said at last, and seemed to consider for a minute. "A certain operation. At the Ministry—the Air Ministry—we do not consider this operation to be our concern at all. We regard it as purely an Admiralty matter. You'll appreciate the position. There's very little to be gained by discussing this—operation."

I nodded. "I can take that for granted."

"Right. Now, a part of the work necessary in the carrying out of this scheme is maritime, and is so placed as to be in full view of the shore. Generally speaking, all operations that concern harbour defences and matters of that sort are regarded as secret, but usually that secrecy is only relative. You see what I mean. If a fort is to be built, the Admiralty can go on saying it's secret till they're blue in the face—but there it is, and any passer-by can see the muzzles of the guns sticking out."

He blew a long cloud of smoke. "In this instance—which is in no way connected with the defences of the port—secrecy really is most urgent. It's vital. For that reason, since a part of the operation can be seen from the shore, it was arranged to carry out the necessary maritime work at night."

He paused, and eyed me steadily. "Twice in the last week this work has been overlooked, and possibly photographed. Each time an aeroplane, the nature of which we don't yet know, has flown over and dropped a large magnesium flare."

I nodded slowly, without taking my eyes from his face.

"The first time it happened was on Monday night. The flare appeared suddenly at a height of about two thousand feet, and burnt for perhaps a minute. It came as a complete surprise. There was a tendency at first to put it down to a natural phenomenon—a meteor of some sort. That's all nonsense, of course."

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I wrinkled my brows. "If it was an aeroplane, surely you'd have heard it," I remarked. "They make the devil of a noise."

"Unless they are silenced. There's been a lot of progress made in that direction—in this country."

"I hadn't heard of that," I said. "I've been away from flying for so long."

He knocked the ash from the end of his cigar on to a plate. "The same thing happened last Thursday night," he said. "This time the machine was seen. It got too close to the light, and was seen clearly for a few seconds in the light of its own flare. We were fully alive to the situation then, and certain anti-aircraft measures had been put in hand. Well, they didn't come off. The machine got away without being identified."

I blew a long cloud of smoke. "I imagine you'll make it pretty hot for him if he comes again," I remarked.

"If he comes again," repeated Dermott. "He may not. We're by no means sure that he got away on Thursday. In fact, we think he landed. Here."

I paused for a moment before replying. "I see," I said at last. "What makes you think that?"

"Two bits of evidence. The lighthouse-keepers at the Nab Tower report that they heard the engine of an aeroplane come on suddenly, not so very far away. They've got an acoustic apparatus there that tells them roughly the direction of any sound. It's a simple thing; they use it for ships in fog. They turned it on to this aeroplane."

He smiled. "Now, their evidence is rather interesting. They say that the sound was steady for half a minute or so—just the normal noise of an aeroplane. It seemed to be coming straight towards them. Then they heard the engine shut off, and opened out again. That happened three times. Then the machine seemed to stop coming towards them and apparently turned towards the coast, travelling in a northerly direction till they lost it. None of our own aircraft were in the vicinity at the time.

"Apart from that," he said, "we have definite evidence that the machine turned inland."

I raised my eyebrows.

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"We had a bit of real good luck. A sergeant fitter from the Gosport squadron was on leave that night, and was cycling with his girl between Chichester and Arundel. He's a Chichester man. He heard this aeroplane come over him, and he saw it. There was a moon behind some clouds—thin clouds, so that there was a light patch in the sky. He got off his bicycle when he heard the machine, and as he was looking round he saw it cross this patch of light."

I moistened my lips. "That's a bit of luck," I said.

He nodded. "Just one chance in a hundred—but he saw it. The machine was flying due north, and by his account it was climbing to gain height rapidly. He says it was a large single-engined biplane, possibly with extensions to the upper wing. As an Air Force sergeant, he could tell a good deal from the noise of the machine. He was of the opinion that the engine was a twelve-cylinder, water-cooled, broad-arrow type—three banks of four—of about four or five hundred horse-power, fitted with a large, slow-running propeller, driven through an epicyclic gear with a reduction of at least two to one, and with a double exhaust-manifold that carried the gases well down the fuselage."

Lord Arner laid down his cigar and drew one hand across his eyes. "Now that, to me," he said, "is one of the most curious features of Commander Dermott's story. I find it most remarkable that this man should be able to give full details of the engine in an aeroplane merely from the sound as it flew over him. Most remarkable, and most extraordinary."

He relapsed into silence.

Dermott paused for a minute, and then continued: "He only saw the machine for a few seconds, but he continued to hear it for several minutes. When it crossed the moon from him, he judged it to be at a height of about three thousand feet, and climbing rapidly. He heard its engine for two or three minutes longer, by which time it was a considerable distance to the north of him. The engine was then shut off, and he heard nothing more."

I nodded slowly. "The machine landed?"

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"Apparently."

"Did the sergeant make any effort to find the machine?"

"No. When he heard the engine shut off he judged the machine to be four or five miles to the north of him. It was a quiet night, you see. To look for the machine in those circumstances was hopeless for one man—and besides, he was on leave and he'd got a girl with him. He thought he'd seen a forced landing by one of our own night-flying aircraft on a practice flight. So he cycled on to Chichester and parked his girl, and rang up his commanding officer at Gosport to give him the information."

He was silent.

"That is all the evidence?" I asked.

"That's all."

I laid down my cigar and leaned forward on the table. "And from a study of the map you think he put down in the area Lord Arner mentioned? Pithurst, Leventer, Courton Down, and Under?"

"We think so."

I thought about it for a minute. "There are a great number of places in that area where an aeroplane could land, even at night," I said. "But surely, it's a bit premature to assume that she landed at all. She may only have started to fly silently. If she could do that once she could do it again."

He shook his head. "That has been suggested. But against that we've got what happened at the Nab. You know what happens when a pilot finds his engine flagging—a stoppage in the petrol supply, perhaps. He throttles his engine down, and then opens out again to try and clear it. You do it on a car, just the same. And if he can't get it right, he turns towards the best country for a forced landing and climbs to gain height before it peters out altogether, so that he can have time to look about for a safe landing-ground while he's gliding down."

There was a long silence. At last:

"That all fits in," I said. "I must say, it looks as if something of the sort had happened. Still, that's two days ago. I
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can hardly believe that the aeroplane can still be here. I must have heard of it before this."

I paused for a moment. "You see," I said quietly, "I hear everything that goes on here."

He inclined his head. "Quite so. Frankly, I don't expect to find the aeroplane. That would be too much to hope for. Too good to be true. I think it most likely that the pilot landed, contrived to rectify the trouble, and got away again. Very likely I've come down here on a wild-goose chase. But the least evidence about this thing will be of value to us now."

"You've named a mighty big area of country," I muttered.

The candles were flickering in some draught about the table, throwing great dancing shadows in the corners of the room, and glinting on the silver. I dropped my head into my hands, and sat staring at my plate for a minute or two. I was thinking of Lenden. I'm not a strong man myself, nor a clever one. I had to make my decision in that moment; I'm damned if I know now whether I did right or not.

I raised my head. "The funny thing is that I was out that night myself," I said. "I was driving back from Winchester with a friend. We didn't get in till about two in the morning. But I saw nothing of all this."

Now that, to me, sums up the whole essence of that evening—the earlier part of it, at any rate. Looking back upon it now, after all these months, I don't know that I regret it.

"A further point," said Dermott. "Do you know of anyone disaffected in the neighbourhood? Anyone who might be expected to give assistance in such a case?"

"You mean, anyone with Russian sympathies?"

He nodded.

I shook my head slowly. "We're an agricultural county, you see. I don't know of any red-hot Bolsheviks here. We've got a few cranks, of course. There's a chap here in Under, a hairdresser, who talks Communism in the market on Saturdays. He doesn't count. No, there's nobody that I know of."

Lord Arner nodded gravely. "That is also my opinion."

"You don't see much chance of a conspiracy?"

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"No," I replied, "I don't. Quite frankly, from what you've said, I think that if that machine had trouble that forced her to land she must have put it right and got away again without anyone being any the wiser. Otherwise, I think I must have heard of it."

There was a long silence, and then:

"It doesn't look very promising," said Dermott ruefully. "It was an off-chance from the first, of course."

I began to describe to him the various possible landing-grounds in that part of the country. They were innumerable on the downs, and very many in the farming land. For the better part of an hour I led him in a random, detailed discussion of the neighbourhood. I told him everything that I could think of about the area that he was interested in, and I told him nothing that was of any value to him at all.

We gave it up at last, and went through into the drawing-room. It must have been about ten o'clock by then. We had settled that in the morning I should take Dermot for a run over the area in a car, and point out to him what I considered to be the most favourable landing-grounds. But I had done my work pretty well. By the time we left the dining-room I could see that he regarded the whole matter as a useless quest, and that he was already wondering whether it would not be better for him to get back to London straight away. Lord Arner said roundly that he thought we should find nothing at all.

I didn't think that I should have much difficulty in concealing the Breguet from an investigation conducted in that spirit.

In the drawing-room we all had to brace ourselves a little to be entertaining for an hour before bed. As the easiest way out of a difficult position—for we were all preoccupied that night—Arner picked on me. I wasn't sorry to sit down and play to them; it saved the necessity for talking. Lady Arner has a great attachment to light opera. I remember playing Saint-Saëns for her that evening, with a considerable effort to take the treacle out of
Mon cœur se lève à ta voix
, and a little Verdi. Then I went wandering for a bit, and I remember playing
One Fine Day
. Now that was a funny thing. She liked that best of all, but
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would never ask for it. She used to ask for
Mon cœur
and for bits of
La Traviata
, and she liked Schubert; but I cannot remember that she has ever asked for
Butterfly
, although she likes it best of all.

The evening came to an end at last—that part of it, at any rate. Lady Arner gathered her things together presently and went up to bed, taking Sheila with her; I think our acting must have been pretty poor. Arner rang the bell and we had a whisky and soda together, rather a silent one, and then I said good night and went back to my house across the still, moonlit stable-yard.

Lenden was up when I got back, and sitting in a chair before the fire in my pyjamas and dressing-gown. He told me that he was much better, and had got up while they made his bed. And had stayed up. I could see that he was better; he had shaved and looked altogether more himself.

I mooned uncertainly about the room for a bit, and then lit a cigarette and sat down. "This fellow Dermott," I said.

Lenden looked up quickly. "What about him?"

"He's after you, all right. They've got quite a good idea of what you did and where you came from. They know you landed somewhere near here." I paused. "Dermott came to get me to help try and find you."

"Oh." He stared at me darkly. "Did you?"

I chucked the match into the fire. "No," I said after a minute. "As a matter of fact, I didn't."

"Why not?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know."

"What did he want you to do?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Just to help him get any information there was to be had. They know the machine landed in this part and they came to me—as a sort of private detective, I suppose. Because I hear all the gossip. Because if anyone knew anything, it would be me. That's why they came. We had a long talk about it. They don't know you by name, and they're not sure where the machine came from. They know you had engine trouble and had to land. That's all. They think now
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that you must have put it right and got away again."