The Steel Dutchman

Auckland Star, Volume LXV, Issue 144, 20 June 1934, Page 17

The Steel Dutchman

(Author of "Paradise Orchid," "The Green Hat," etc.)

CHAPTER XXX. I

• GREAT 8 T OR Y OF ADVENTURE ON LAND AND SEA

Sir Gerald is Confident. Merlincoto had met Sir Gerald Homer within an hour of ! their escape from the heart of the cliff. The fat Secret Service man had been advised !by 'phone of Cleonc's first signals from Hunter End. As fast as a police car could carry him, he dashed straight away for Hartness Slem. He was in fine feather. The police driver, making the dull red car do all of 70 along the arteriai road which gave on to the Slem's landward boundary, heard the baronet singing away in a tinny voice: " Yip-Hi-Addy-Hi-Hay-Hi-Hay" which monstrous resurrection from his earliest youth, seemed admirably to fit in with the rolling wheel-speed and a mood. For there was no doubt about Sir ' Gerald's contented state of mind. No sooner had he heard that Cleone and her lover had actually appeared on Hunter End as though they had walked clean out of the substance of the cliff, when he told himself the major mystery of Mynheer Ryjer van Klaus was solved. As yet he had not thought it policy to advise Cleone that her father had regained consciousness, and with it, a remembrance of all that had happened during Van Klaus' first attack oil Hartness Slem. But such was the case. Hardly had Cleone and Merlincoto paid their morning visit to the nursing —learning that the position was unchanged—and had thereafter set out on that walk which led to the discovery of the washed up torpedo and their capture by the Sloughstowe men . . . when old Hector Bainbridge stirred and awoke and quite strongly demanded that he be allowed to get up. Sir Gerald had long had an understanding- with the doctors that on Bainbridge's return to his senses, he should immediately be advised. He got the message and went to the nursing home at once, arriving there not half an hour after Cleone's visit with Guy Merlincote. And to old Hector, gently and soberly, Sir Gerald Homer, of the Secret Service, told the story of Van Klaus' derelictions. He suppressed the strong news_ of the piracies and only made out to Bainbridge that it was necessary for the common good that the rogue was laid by the heels at the earliest opportunity ... He inquired if, in any way, old Hector could answer one question; where was Van Klaus getting his secret power from — that power which was irradiated _ to direct and supply the marvellous engines of the Eliegende Schaum. Hector Bainbridge's reply was so fantastic that Homer almost got up in disgust. He said: "Van Klaus was establishing a secret transmitter in the cliffs off the Slems when last I remember anything about the business. I.knew he was doing that—you see it was to be the greatest phase of our experiments. The Fliegende Schaum had already been fitted up in Germany with a large scale model of my new valve-receptor plant, and we intended to transmit from the cliff in an attempt to direct the yacht." The doctors had warned Sir Gerald then that he must not stay any longer. So, disgruntled and dismayed, he left the nursing home with the idea in mind that the old scientist had merely rambled after all—"in the cliffs" indeed! How on earth could a transmitting station be set out —in a cliff? Then came the police messages; that Merlincote and Cleone Bainbridge • had been found—having escaped from the Sloughstowe men—having been through vast caverns and a positive labyrinth ot passages . . . inside the cliffs! No wonder Sir Gerald sat back in the car and sang that ancient di.tty._He saw success in eight at^last.y.-i

_____ 'By Vincent Cornier

CHAPTER XXXI.

A Fateful Conference. When Sir Gerald Homer reached the deserted village of Sloughstowe he did not waste much time in preliminaries. He invested the inn, the Broken Falcon, rather than occupied it. More than fifteen police oflicers were on duty round about its olden walls and inside the place their number was even more. And, in the snug parlour where Asar Lattiman had almost caused their deaths by pumping the gas over them— Guy Merlineote and Cleone Bainbridge sat and talked with the Secret Service chief. As yet he had not told Cleone of her father's recovery of his wits. He thought it was not an opportune time. Tell her that, and, with all a loving woman's impatience, she would not settle. And Guy Merlineote would naturally want to accompany his Cleone on her visit . . .

Instead of the news that meant so much to both of them, Sir Gerald imparted that which concerned the sinking of the Rykneld and the mighty Heraclon. Merlincote found it not at all difficult to accept the sinking of the tiny fisheries' protection gunboat as being truth . . . but his mind simply refused credence to Homer's second report. "An eighteen thousand ton cruiser— never in this world, Sir Gerald!" lie gasped. Homer lighted his second cigar and looked the sardonic fellow he was at heart. "Well, you'll live a few days yet, Merlincote, to learn a little more. Then, I think, an apology'll be due. I'm not in. the the Jong bow.

However, leave that aside—about this cavern escapade of yours: tell me all you can." Merlineote told all ho had to toll. Still Sir Gerald was not satisfied. ii appeared ho sought something of far more moment than a cool tale of adventuring in the honeycombed heart of a mass of red sandstone and felspar. What, exactly, the Secret Service man was probing for, Merlineote was at a loss to determine . . . but, disgruntled, he soon stopped his narrative and, drily enough turned to Cleone: "Perhaps you could add to what I've already said, Cleone," lie smiled. "I think our experiences were about equal —but a woman's point of view, I'm sure, will interest Sir Gerald." Cleone gurgled in purest amusement. Poor old sore-headed Guy—she divined how his citadel of sclf-importanco was being attacked to its ruin by this thinly railing ollicor of tlio Political Intelligence. Gifted and successful barrister as her lover was, he could only appear to the lightning like intelligence ol Homer as a blundering second rater. ... A hard judgment, she knew, but one that was eminently just. Guy had told his story like a precis. She realised that Homer wanted something entirely different —and greater. So she began to talk in a soft and crooning way, working the identical, material Merlineote had employed into a romantically turned story . . . with the result that, at last, the officer touched the fundamentals of the situation: tapped, tlie secret spring he was trying so very hard to find. i Cleone, in her mounting-up of "atmosphere," had come to the part of her tale which dealt with her lonely flight through the cavern which held the black and terrible underground lake. She spoke of the never-ceasing wind . . . "It blew like an icily cold hurricane all the time I was in that great place," she said dreamily. To her quiet satisfaction she noticed that the ash suddenly broke from Homer's cigar and that he sat up a little in his chair. "Where it came from I had no idea— probably from some crevice in the fabric of the cliff. But it was important enough for me to notice it . . . especially as I thought of it in relation to — to something,". filie shot a quick glance at the agate eyed fat man, "which might —well, interest." "And what is that, Miss Bainbridge?" Instead of sardonic intolerance and almost rude abruptness, Homer was addressing the girl with a suave and winning guile. The difference of attitude was so marked as to bring Merlineote to its definition in one adjective: "sickening." "I'm sure you needn't hold back from—er —any theory you might have formed. In relation with what?" Cleone looked at Guy Merlineote an<t at Sir Gerald Homer. Then she drew a swift breath and plunged: "There was a peculiar vibration as well as the wind," she went on. "Had it not been that yon seem to want every phase of the—experience, I'm sure I wouldn't have cared to —to mention it -jjbut I noticed that a quivering, a pulsi'ug note was in the wind. It made me think of the steady running of machinery." There was no doubt about Homer's captured interest. His cigar was flung to the lire. IT his bald jiead and his eyes snapped yellow light. "Machinery—eh '! And what kind of machinery ?" "Gently running dynamos," said Cleone Bainbridge. She was sure of herself now. "I thought I discerned a throbbing as of—dynamos! Then," she leaned forward and her eager young face took on something of that hawklike compulsion of expression Merlineote had often seen on the handsome countenance of old Hector, "I thought a little beyond the mere fact of dynamos being hidden away in that hollow cliff. Might I—l' tell you what?" "You most certainly might!" Homer rubbed his hands together with a silken sound and looked triumphantly at Merlineote. "It seems to me you've got hold of the identical stuff I want — carry on Miss Bainbridge; carry on! I'm absolutely all cars!" "Thank you." Cleone for the first time evaded her lover's eyes, "I thouglit.of-this . . - If Van -Klaus was-

utilising my father's invention to obtain unlimited supplies of power for the Fliegcndc Scliaum, .always remembering that power is transmitted on ultra short wireless waves, he'd also need a transmitting station." "lie would," said Homer emphatically. "-And such a transmitting station wouldn't havo to be worked as any half-and-half affair," Clcone smiled. "To make sure, of all the terrible force lie needs, he'd require a station capable of sending out energy in the region of tons of pressure—not merely pounds. Of course, a vast sender like Daventry or the Rugby short-wave station could do that. But, I asked myself, how on earth was a private individual going to obtain that mighty power? "I answered my own question from my experiences ... In that cavern was a secret lake. Water falling from a tremendous height fed the lake; water spells motive force. Granted Van Klaus had set. up machinery capable of delivering him a first source of power somewhere round ab6ut five or six hundred kilowats—granted also that he had a cooling and aerating system perfect enough never to let him down . . . then the secondary affairs of oscillating crystals and controlled transmitters hardly enter into the question at all. He'd be in possession of all that was really neccssary. "Any fool who had the money to spend could got all the rest of the tackle tlmt would bo wanted—the first essentials simply" remain; power to be developed and rectified to provide transmitted power . . . and a cooling system so perfected and so incessantly violent, that it would make a wind-tunnel in a laboratory look silly." Sir Gorald Homer got to his feet and held out his hand. "Like father, like daughter," he robustly laughed. "By Jove, Miss Bainbridgc, you've made a mighty swipe in all that. That's exactly what I was getting at. Our theory is that van Klaus' transmitter is hidden in the Hartness cliffs and that he has all the power there he needs, and more. Your tale about the secrct lake and the never diminishing gale of wind and the throbbing machinery clinches the last nail in his coffin." He looked exultantly at Merlincote. "Like to bo in at the death?" he bluffly asked. Merlincote came down to earth. He had been airily travelling away from the Broken Falcon to the mist enshrouded seas whereon the I'liegende Schaum was running her piratical course. He was trying to imagine what would happen to the Steel Dutchman once this Secret Service man got to the vitals of his hidden transmitting station. But it was not for van Klaus that he felt concerned; he was wondering what would come of the poor deluded people of Sloughstowe. He remembered the Fliegende Schaum's huge crew was wholly composed of the villagers, and he had known them for so many years that he ached to think of their imminent doom. He remembered the wives and the children and the old gnarled folk who still lived in the deserted place. "What death?" Ho was curt and cold. "Why, the 'kill' of the Steel Dutchman," came the rolling and luscious answer from Sir Gerald Homer, "Surely you'd not say 'no'?" Merlincote gently told Sir Gerald of what he had been thinking. He might have talked like a law book formerly, but now he absolutely fed passion and pleading into his every word. Cleone felt tears starting up behind her eyes, and she clasped her hands together and quivered. "Think of them, Homer —can't anything be done. Eighty-five poor deluded souls. God above knows they've stuck their hands deeply into soil as it is, but, eighty-five fathers, husbands, young and easily guided, or misguided, lads. Surely, Homer, there's some avenue of mercy open to them." "The Rykneld was a little boat going innocently enough about her daily job," came the Secret Servi.ce chief's deadly answer. "The pirate crew of . the Fliegende Schaum leaned, over the rails c and.

cheered as she was split and wont down with the loss of every man on board. Then the Hcraclon—there are the women of five households to-night mourning their dead in that disaster. There was poor old Jock McKay, of the Betsy Dunsholme, the crews of the other vessels Klaus has caused to be attacked and sunk or disabled." Homer's voice was low, but not unkindly. "No, Merlincote, I'm afraid the job's too terrible for any single individual to stay his hand or force it out in any attempt to sue for pardon. The evil is, and has been long enough—the doom that these men have brought to others shall havo to come home to them." Then, abruptly, as though to banish the very consideration of that tragic side of the case from his mind, Sir Gerald told Clcone about her father. The girl was wild with delight. Just as Homer had thought, she was all agog to bo oil to Hartborough to pay him a visit. "Well, I've held you up," Homer said, "so I'll do the best I can for you. My car's outside, and a jolly good driver in it, too. Off you both go. But, don't forget, be back here promptly at four o'clock. By then I'll have had time to marshal together what men I'll need, and we'll clear the innards of Hartness cliff, as a prelude to clearing the waters of the Steel Dutchman." (To bo continued daily.)