THE CRIME OF THE CENTURY.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1715, 11 January 1905, Page 8

THE CRIME OF THE CENTURY.

(By Adalbert St. Jobn.) Mr Richard Fenton’s visit to London was partly with business intent, and also, as a loyal subject of His Majesty to participate in the public welcome to the King and Queen on their way to and from Westminster Abbey on Coronation was his first visit to the capital since the day, thirty five years ago, that he had shaken off the London dust, and made his way, penniless, to the rising port of the Clyde. JNoav, as senior partner m one 01 the leading shipbuilding yards, be patronised the lordly Cecil, as one of his wealth may do. .1 t* Penton was a patron of the useful Arts, and of the Arts likely to be useful. And it was the receipt of a letter cmcermng his favourite hobby, the science of aeronautics, that had finally decided him to come to town —his latent loyalty coining out with the opportunity. He had travelled overnight by an excursion train (for he could not altogether throw off the hab.ts of economy of his younger days), after making an appointment by wire for 10 a.m, at the Hotel Cecil, with the inventor of an alleged flying machine. A old bath and a hot breakfast had obliterated the effects of the tedious sleepless journey, and now, in a private room, he settled himself comfortably in the depths of a luxurious armchair, and proceeded to review hit plan for the day —man of method in play as in work. He took a wallet from his inner pocket, and opened it bookwise on his knee; from it he selected a letter, and unfolding it, reid it for perhaps the twentieth time. ’“Respected Sir,” it ran, in a thin angular, hesitating hand, “I am at your service at the hour and the place yon may choose. Should you desire to see me anc' my apparatus, please wne. Awaiting your honour’s appointment, 1 kiss jour hands,—Giovanni Pipippi.” “Giovanni Pip—Ah! let’s say Johnny boy, for short!” commented the millionaire. “You’re a refugee, you say. What can tha + mean in these tolerant days? Evidently a man of technical training, too. Your drawings? are the work of an engineer, and your calculations scientifically done. But—will your machine rise? And 11 so, will it keep its equilibrium, and descend without killing its inmates ?” lie drew the drawings from their envelope, regarding them intently; then leant back in thought, his right hand l< his chin, his eyes resting carelessly on the cluster of electric globes on the ceiling above him. It yet wanted five minutes to the appointed hour of ten. That time seemed barely to have elapsed when Richard Penton was roused from his contemplative ease by a knock the door swung open noiselessly, and someone was ushered in. “Mr Giovanni Pipippi!”

Richard Penton sat up. Before him, standing' on the thick Turkey mat was a short, dark man of typical Italian type, dressed without fault, bowing repeatedly and rapidly, each obeisance lower than tne one preceding, until it seemed to the Englishman that hi© short ©tiff hair must soon sweep the carpet between them. 'Take a seat, I beg you, Mr Pip—pp—. Yes, that one by the table,” said the shipbuilder. Then, with a wave of the hands “your servant” and "patron” reached hie ears out of an apologetic mumble-—“No ompliments, please. Bet us do our business as man to man." “A thousand thanks, sir,” replied Signor Pipippi, nervously and unnecessarily reointing one end of his black moustache as he sat down. “I perceive you have condescended to look at my plans. Would you like to come with me now, sir, and see my model ?” ' Naw? Well,” taking out his gold watch, as though he did not know the time well enough, “I think we had better wait unti the Coronation is over, for, of course, 1 wish to- see it —-or, rather the procession.”

c ‘Bah!' An ugly, though momentary, expression crossed the dark face. “There will bo time later for that. Or” —lowering his voice—“if you are daring we can view tin* sight from on board.” The rich man stared. “From aboard —your model! Then on what scale “It js full-sized; at least, it will carry us two.” “Have you tried it in free air?” “Yes. Twice have I ascended within the past week—at night, after moonset.”

‘‘Anti where is the thing?” “In my workshop, at Lambeth,” replied the man, his eyes now glistening eager ness v “We can cab it in twenty minutes/'

“Then —I’ll come with you.” * * * * The cab turned into a mean street; it stopped at a mean iiousb. But in broad daylight, the millionaire had little fear. He himself was of huge muscular frame, and an old friend named Colt reposed in his hip pocket. Pipippi opened the door with a latchkey, and entered; Bichard Penton followed close behind him. They passed along a dim passage in silence, through a small kitchen in which sat a feminine duplicate of Pipippi and on into a large workshop built on the yard. Another key was produced, and the two men entered. As they did so, admiring surprise suffused the face of the one — triumph was readable on the other. “Man alive!” exclaimed the shipbuilder. “Do you mean to tell me this is the work of a single pair of hands ? Full size, and each part as in the drawings, and properly finished off. Ah ! these are your aeroplanes—most ingeniously contriveu and placed; and the fans, w. their ability to work at an angle, are truly an inspiration. You are a marvel, sir!”

“I am an engineer, sir,” was his companion s simple reply. “Whether your wonderful batteries can make those ingenious contrivances to work remains to be seen. But, my friend, your position here seems like that created by the architect friend we all know, who builds us a house and leaves out the staircase; how can you use y>ur machine, bottled up as it is in this room with scarce an inch of space overhead ?”

It might have been pity or contempt, which shone on the dark visage for a moment before Pipippi sprang to a switch-board by the door. An almost imperceptible movement of the hand, and then he pointed with his finger to the roof.

FolloAving its direction, Penton looked up. A rapidly wdclening strip of sky shoAvect from end to end of the shed, and the sun shone in upon the polished metal of the air-ship, as the roof slid, in two halves, noiselessly back like tAvo opening jaAvs.

“N>av, sir, will you step aboard. You will get a better Ariew of things than anyone else? in the Avorld.” A look in tbo Italian's eyes seemed to challenge the Britisher.

Mechanically Penton stepped on the ship. There Avas just comfortable room for twm, Avith the control-board in the centre of the space, ana an open rail running round. Pipippi took his stand at the board, and made one or trwo movements of the switches thereon. The aeroplanes assumed their intended'angle, the elevating fans spun round Avith a rising note and before he could realise it, Richard Penton saw beloAv him, through a smoky film, the elated roofs of the houses around.

As the air-ship rose, the city below receded, and assumed the appearance of a worla-wide map, with the great gleaming sinuous Thames for the- main central feature; beneath a brilliant network of bunting, streams of ant-like figures poured along the streets and over the bridges, mingling at the squares and crossings. And as the music of the aero's fans reached the populace a million faces and more turned upwards to the skies, and a murmur, that may have been a cheer, arose to the daring travellers —now near a thousand feet above the town. Penton turned to his companion. “Your invention works well one way, at any rate. Now let's eret nearer mother earth. If vou don't mind.” A finger’s touch on the control-board before him and, with planes less inclined, but both elevating and horizontal fans working at their normal speed, Pipipoi brought the huge mechanical bird swooping down in a long sweep; then, half-way to earth, another touch gave it the level path again, ana Penton, looking over the rail, saw, barely five hundred feel beneath them, the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. “Ah!” he gave a deep sigh. “Let us stand by now—but not here—until they have left the Abbey. It is hardly the thing to float over the royal party!” He looked inquiringly over to- his companion who, in his turn, was staring below with a hard, steely gaze. “I have one other part to my programme,” he said calmly. “Oh! And that is P” “I am you must know, an Anarchist as well as ‘an engineer. My lodge- has decided that my invention shall be practically tested to-day. If it succeeds—and it must —the greatest blow ever struck for liberty will have come from my hands, and I ——” Dick's heart beat quick as he heard these words; the sweat of excitement o>zed from every pore; his right haoid crept beneath his coat tails towards his hip pocket. But a metallic tap on the top edge of tho control-board drew his eye. The Italian had forestalled him and a shining barrel pointed at his breast.

“But, man!” cried Penton, withdrawing his hand with assumed innocence, “vou are surely mad! What is the blow you have planned?” “Listen, comrade!” Penton shook his shaggy head at this. “For untold centimes we have suffered in silence, ground beneatn the heel ot tyrants. N'ow is the hour of revenge! In this dull square below is gathered together the greatest collection of tyrants ” ‘‘Nonsense, man! You’re in the freest country on God’s earth; and you are its guest—remember that! —however unworthy."

“IN ever tireless,” went on the madman imperturbably, “below at this moment we have kings and emperors, princes and dukes, lords and ladies, in one compact mass. And here a part ox my machine that I did not explain will come in4o use. It is the tube, by which one can drop despatches—or anything one likes—into a city!” He looked across at Penton, and saw that he understood. The Britisher looked doAvn to the netted floor but could make out nothing. “YV'hat do you intend to drop, then? For Heaven’s sake, don’t be a fool ! Cease this cruel joke—it has gone far enough.” But two glaring eyes told him it was no joke. It tvas pure madness —learnt, no doubt, in a vile political school —madnesg of a virulent anti-social type. “In the tube below is suspended fifty kilogrammes of dynamite!” The words came calmly enougn in all conscience'. “My finger is now on the button. When the signt; tells me that tne Abbey is directly below, then is the' time to press’, A minute later, and—ah ! that will be burning weeds in a mass!” and a long, low chuckle followed the fearful details of the plan. They were now’, at the end of a long sw r eep that had taken them as far as Hyde Park, approaching the Abbey cnce more. Fenton’s brain had been at work; but he saw* no complete way of escape. To let tne fiend Avork his plan were a terrible cowardice —treason—a crime not yet described in dictionaries. If he tried to frustrate the scheme, he would probably perish in the effort, and (the circumstances being unknown), be branded in the diabolical plot! He decided for honour. With a sharp side movement to escape the inevitable bullet, be grasped at his opponent’s throat. The shot Avent past his ear; the powder burnt him, but he felt it not. .ivow they wore at death’s grips. Wrh. his greater strength he tried to wrench the Italian aivay from his post, but in vain. It w r as evident the structure would collapse with the man before ho let go. Then, an inspiration. Whipping out his jack-knife, he dashed at the group of wares running down from the controlboarrd. But —horrors-! in cutting the wires together, the knife had made the fateful contact, ancl a violent jerk upward, and a triumphal yell in his ear told him the deed was done. Looking over the rail he saw a receding and diminishing ball, and, right underneath, was the roof of the venerable fane. Then came a blinding glare of light, and— —- * * ?:■ It is ahvays annoying to be disturbed in a nap, but when you happen to be reclining in an easy chair and a servant switches on an electric cluster above you, it is sometimes bad for the nerves. Tlie-clock Avas just striking ten, ancl tiie real incarnate Giovanni Pipippi was ushered in this time. But his air-ship after all proved a “frost,” so the subsequent proceedings have no interest for us.