THE FLYING COURIER

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 125, 30 May 1933, Page 15

THE FLYING COURIER

By BOYD CABLE. Author of "Aotlon Front!" "Between the Lines," ««e.

CHAPTER IX.—Continued.) "Thanks," said Glynn eagerly with a sudden hope that perhaps something had been found out about the miseing ease and film. He was disappointed in this, because in answer to his first question he was told that there was no news to report. ( "What I wanted to tell you," said the voice from the telephone, "may mean nothing to you, but just might mean something. Do you know anything of the Mr. Stefan who decided to stop off the liner here, and go oa to Haifa on some business?" "Xo, I don't know a thing about him, Sa ''Kno\v anything of the Mr. Max who stayed behind because he was not feelin£lWdon't actually know anything," admitted Glynn, "but for a very trivial reason I'm suspicious of him." "Then this may interest you, after all Max was down to breakfast and apparently well enough to eat a good one within minutes of the liner leaving' Stefan got a wire from London, and immediately went frantic about gettin" a 'plane that would catch you up. He" got it, and he' 3 flying to Rutbah E °"But I don't know anything about him," said Glynn. "I don't see that it affects me." "If you suspect Max you can suspect Stefan. It was clear to me they know each other well, and last thing Stefan shouted from the 'plane was to Max, tellinf him to send a wire off at once. Max evidently knew ae much about the business he was to wire as Stefan did." "That certainly does link the two," agreed Glynn. "I was hoping that with Max out of it there would only be one man with us to watch. I may be in for a tough time again if I have a couple of plotters to beat. Is this Stefan fellow able to catch us up? "He wouldn't normally," explained the airways official. "He had a head wind to fight and less speed than you have. But the hour you wait at Rutbah gives him a chance, and as he's a passenger by Airways, I couldn't refuse to do as he asked and send a message through to your pilot to wait as long as he" reasonably could to let Stefan arrive before the liner left." Glynn left the wireless room thoughtfully pondering, and sought the pilot. "I've been talking to Galilee, Joe," he said. "They've told me about this fellow chasing us up and that you've been instructed to delay here as long as you can to let him arrive in time." "That's right," said the pilot. "He should manage all right. I can safely hang on for an hour and.make Basra before it's too dark." "Course you can't dodge orders," eaid Glynn, "but if you can cut down the time you wait to the barest limit, I'd be niightly glad. I've a good reason for not wishing that passenger to rejoin us, but can't raise any objection on no more than a suspicion." "I see," said the pilot doubtfully. "But I don't know how I could explain not waiting an hour or so. But we'll see."

At the end of the regulation hour allowed for the meal, the passengers sauntered back to the liner. .They had been told about the machine trying to catch them up and that they might be delayed a little, so while eome got in and settled in their comfortable seats, others hung about watching the sky for any distanct speck that would give notice of the approaching machine. The minutes dragged slowly paet. Half an hour went, thirty-five, forty, minutes Glynn and the pilot stood waiting together with the Airways official fidgetting at their elbow. "Better get 'em all aboard," said the pilot. "If he's not on the floor here within ten minutes," said the official with another glance at his watch, "he misses it.". The word was given and the passengers filed up the steps and into the saloon. Glynn waited to the last with the other two. For some reason he could not understand, he was most desperately anxious that they should get off without Stefan rejoining them, and lie felt in some way that it was an omen of danger, and perhaps disaster to him, if he failed to get away without Stefan on board. The pilot turned briskly. "All aboard," he said. "No sight of him, so we'll push off." Gladly, Glynn turned to leap up the steps. But on the instant came a long cry from the look-out, posted on the highest point of the walls. They looked up and saw the man's figure silhouetted against the sky, one ai;m pointing straight out to the west. '"Curse!" growled Glynn, knowing well what the cry and signal meant. "There he is," cried the pilot pointing. "Flying high—good six thousand I'd say. Wise bird! Must know there's less force in the head wind up there." The tiny speck in the sky might have "been anything up to ten miles off in that clear air. But even ten miles is a matter of little more than five minutes' flying, and Glynn knew that with the machine in plain sight, the liner miiet wait its arrival.

Glumly he watched the speck grow for a moment, then turned and mounted the steps up into the liner's entrance.

CHAPTER X. Bagdad, ana More Trouble. t High and far off as was the coming plane, the rising and falling hum of its engine could be heard now. In a few minutes it would be roaring down to the drome beside them.

. Then, just as Glynn was about to step mto the liner, he heard a cry from the ground behind him, and at it he turned and jumped down. t "What's the fellow up to?" lie heard. Tie must see the fort plain enough from there. Why is he swinging off?" Glynn pulled out his glasses and focused them on the distant machine. ■It certainly was turning aside, and in a steep bank that showed its wings broad against the sky. It continued the turn, straightened out again, and, with its tail towards them now, was driving straight away from them in a long slanting glide. The sound of its engine n ° longer reached them. To those op the 'drome the movement was completely puzzling.

To Stefan, up ,'n that machine, it was more than puzzling, was utterly maddening, and he raved, yelling and shouting, at the pilot. The"pilot looked back over his shoulder at him. The engine was cut off now, and through the whine and hum of the wind in struts and stays, Stefan heard his answering ehout—"You can make all the complaints you like later on—if you're alive to make them.

But in the meantime you'd better save your breath for your prayers—that I can make the spot I'm aiming for." Hβ turned hie attention to his steering again, gave the engine full throttle for a minute, and shut off again. Stefan slumped back in hie seat, breathless but still muttering curses and abuse.

All he knew was that at intervals for the last half hour the pilot had been warning him that it was going to be touch and go, that although he was driving her full out, he was making a bare eighty an hour over the ground against the head wind, that the petrol was running desperately low.

But when the fort showed up far ahead, and the pilot had pointed to it and to the liner they could plainly see when the pilot told him where to look, Stefan had counted his troubles over and imagined himself safely down and running to board the liner in a few minutes. Hβ sighed with satisfaction at the thought. It had been a most uncomfortable flight. After the comparative eilence in the liner's saloon with engine noise so effectually shut out from them, the roar of the open machine's engine was disconcerting and deafening. And after the monotonously smooth and steady flight of the liner, the motion of the two-seater was unsettling and uncomfortable. The buffeting of the , wind, the terrifying flat drops into the nothingness of air pockets was simplv horrible. Stefan endured it with a constant eye on his watch.

And now, within plain sight of the liner he had suffered so much to reach, with the 'drome no,more than five to ten minutes away, with, the liner still waiting, although he knew it was nearly an hour after her allotted departure hour, they were turned away and coming down further away from her every minute.

They were dropping close to the ground now, and the pilot turned and yelled at him, "Take the release strap of your belt in your hand. But don't pull it until we're safe down. If we hit anything and crash, pull it free, and fling yourself out."

Hβ turned away again. The engine roared out, but almost at once spluttered and spat jerkily. The pilot throttled down to no more than ticking over, and as the ground rose swiftly to them, opened up again in broken roars, growls and erratic spattering. The wheels hit the ground and the' machine bounced in a long forward hop, bounced less heavily, ran on bumping and jolting, swerved violently and stopped. Stefan rose in hie seat, demanding angrily why they had rot gone on, why they had turned back instead. The pilot climbed out and dropped to the ground, and Stefan scrambled down after him. "You make me tired," said the pilot wearily. "I've been telling you this half hour past it was touch and go if the petrol etood out. It didn't, and against the head wind we were hitting into, a glide wouldn't have brought us within two or three miles of the 'drome." "But we were within sight," shouted Stefan. "If they'd seen us land, they'd lave sent a ear to bring me to the liner." "More likely to have sent an ambulance to bring in your remains," retorted the pilot. "There wasn't a spot further on towards the -drome I could put her down without bad risk of a crash. This was the best within reach of a glide, and you might be thanking whatever gods you own that we made it without even enough petrol to give her a last kick." Stefan looked at his watch again. "Will they send a car for me," he demanded. "Will the liner wait ?" "I don't own the Imperial Airways, so I can't say," answered the pilot, and lit a cigarette. "What are we to do?" demanded Stefan angrily. "We can't just eit down here." "You can walk on to Rutbah if you like exercise," said the pilot calmly. "Is there no house, no conveyance we can get?" said Stefan impatiently. "Is walking the only choice ?" "Oh no," said the pilot affably. "You've three ways to get there —you can walk, or run, or crawl." Faintly but unmistakably they heard the distant drone of engines booming down wind to them, and far off to the east saw the gleaming spot of white they knew would be the lmer. For a moment Stefan held hie breath, hoping the pilot, warned by wireless that he was following, would turn back to pick lim up. But the distant speck and the hum of the engines diminished steadily and died away to nothing. In the liner, Glynn dropped into Ms seat beside Norah with a sigh of relief. "This machine's lighter loaded by one passenger, but there's a whole lot more weight than that off my mind." "How is that?" she asked, but he turned it aside saying it was a bit of a long story he wanted to tell her later, but not now. It is under three hours' flight from Rutbah. to Bagdad, where they were due to stop for a late lunch. The wind had died away, or the pilot had found a level at which it did not blow, and with the engines driving full out, the liner was steadily cutting down some of the amount of time lost at the last stop. When they sighted the Euphrates River Glynn pointed it out to Norah and remarked, "That's about half an hour from Bagdad, but I fancy we're making good speed over the ground. Think I'll dodge up forward and ask the pilot how she s going." . The pilots sit right up m the nose ot the liner, the chief and second being in a little glass-windowed cabin of their own, shut off from the forward saloon by a little door. Through this door passengers may not pass, but Glynn, with his special authority as a spare pilot, was quite welcome there for a chat or to give one of the pilots half an hour's relief to go back and enjoy a quiet smoke. , When he entered their little cabin, the two pilots greeted him casually and Glynn said to the chief, "Joe, I want a word with you and,l don't want any •possible snooper at the door. D'you mind

if I take over from the second as lie stands by outside for five minutes to watch nobody comes near the door." Joe had no objection, and the second slipped from his seat and Glynn into it while the second passed out into the forward cabin and stood lounging carelessly by the door.

"Joe," began Glynn, "I'm carrying a little packet some people would like to get hold of."

"Some of us might have guessed that," said the pilot drily. "And they got it at Galilee."

"Not all of it," said Glynn. "And I fancy they've guessed so since, and are after me again. Look here —" He unstrapped his binocular case and slid out the cigarette tin. The pilot looked round at it for a moment, and then out ahead again with the brief comment, "Doesn't look ultra valuable."

"If Bagdad is like it used to be," went on Glynn, "there will be a seething mob to get through from the 'drome to the hotel where we grub. I find that pushing through mobs gives pick-pockets and thugs their best chance. And if I stick here in the machine until its time to start, you might have a bomb burst under it or eome other unpleasantness.

The pilot laughed. "Aren't you stretching it?" he asked. "The chance of anyone wrecking one of the regular liners is pretty thin." _ "joe, you've known me quite a while, said Glynn earnestly. "Did you ever know me panicky over nothing?" "No, nor oVer a lot," said Joe. "Then bet on it I'm not stretching anything," said Glynn. "But I want you to help me out. I'm scared to take this to the town with me. I'm just as scared to stick in the machine here with it. Have you anywhere you can stow it, while I draw the fire by going off with tho empty binocular case?" "As it happens," said the pilot evenly, "I want to have a look over one of the engines, so I won't be leaving the bus at Bagdad. You can leave yovir packet in my locker and forget it.'.' '"I won't forget that, Joe," said Glynn simply. "It. will ease my mind a lot." "There's Bagdad ahead," was all the pilot r.nswered.

(To be continued daily.)