The Zeppelin's PassengerOppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
General
The Zeppelin's Passenger
Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips)
Historical fiction; World War, 1914-1918 -- Fiction
“It is,” Hayter repeated, with emphasis, “the precise truth. Sir Henry
Cranton's fishing excursions are myths. He is simply transferred from
his fishing boat on to one of a little fleet of so-called mine sweepers,
from which he conducts his operations. Nearly every one of the most
important towns on the east coast are protected by minefields of his
design.”
Lessingham was dumbfounded. His companion's manner was singularly
convincing.
“But how could Sir Henry or any one else keep this a secret?” he
protested. “Even his wife is scarcely on speaking terms with him because
she believes him to be an idler, and the whole neighbourhood gossips
over his slackness.”
“The whole neighbourhood is easily fooled,” Hayter retorted. “There are
one or two who know, however.”
“There are one or two,” Lessingham observed grimly, “who are beginning
to suspect me.”
“That is a pity,” Hayter admitted, “because it will be necessary for you
to return to Dreymarsh at once.”
“Return to Dreymarsh at once? But Cranston is away. There is nothing for
me to do there in his absence.”
“He will be back on Wednesday or Thursday night,” was the confident
reply. “He will bring with him the plan of his latest defenses of a town
on the east coast, which our cruiser squadron purpose to bombard. We
must have that chart.”
Lessingham listened in mute distress.
“Could you possibly get me relieved?” he begged. “The fact is--”
“We could not, and we will not,” Hayter interrupted fiercely. “Unless
you wish me to denounce you at home as a renegade and a coward, you will
go through with the work which has been allotted to you. Your earlier
mistakes will be forgiven if that chart is in my hands by Friday.”
“But how do you know that he will have it?” Lessingham protested.
“Supposing you are right and he is really responsible for the minefields
you speak of, I should think the last thing he would do would be to
bring the chart back to Dreymarsh.”
“As a matter of fact, that is precisely what he will do,” Hayter assured
his listener. “He is bringing it back for the inspection of one of the
commissioners for the east coast defense, who is to meet him at his
house. And I wish to warn you, too, Maderstrom, that you will have very
little time. For some reason or other, Cranston is dissatisfied with the
secrecy under which he has been compelled to work, and has applied
to the Admiralty for recognition of his position. Immediately this is
given, I gather that his house will be inaccessible to you.”
Lessingham sat, his arms folded, his eyes fixed upon the fire. His
thoughts were in a turmoil, yet one thing was hatefully clear. Cranston
was not the unworthy slacker he had believed him to be. Philippa's whole
point of view might well be changed by this discovery--especially now
that Cranston had made up his mind to assert himself for his wife's
sake. There was an icy fear in his heart.
“You understand,” Hayter persisted coldly, “what it is you have to do?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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