The Dirigibles of Death Read online

  As Doctor Grayson has described, Butler escaped, and I at once got into communication with the constables at East and West Clandon, Clandon Park, Merrow, Albury, Gomshall, Westcott, Dorking, Mickleham, Plesdon, and East Horsley, thus completely encircling the district with patrols and (so I thought) making certain that the murderous thugs would be apprehended within an hour or two. I had scarcely finished giving my instructions when word came of the attack on the motorists on the Hogback, and I at once communicated with the constabulary of all towns and villages in that vicinity. Feeling now confident that the net had been spread for the quarry, I interrogated Doctor Grayson at greater length, interviewed Moore the local constable, talked with Jared Dunne the mail-carrier, with the man Timothy Newbald, and had a word or two with Major Leighton who had just arrived with his chauffeur to examine the airship. While speaking with him, I was summoned to the telephone and received the astounding and horrifying news of the rapine and murder committed at Netley Heath. Here the murderers had appeared within a mile of East Clandon and in the midst of the cordon of police. I had ordered to search the entire district. And they had gotten away without leaving a trace. I immediately ordered additional men to the neighborhood and was preparing to take charge of the man-hunt in person, when I received the comforting news of the murderer at Compton having been killed, although I regretted exceedingly the injuries the police had received in their efforts to capture him alive. Obviously the beings were maniacs and could not be treated like ordinary mortals, and I hurriedly got in touch with the authorities, secured orders for revolvers and ammunition to be distributed among all the members of the police force in the neighborhood, and gave orders to all constables (as well as private citizens) to shoot the maniacs on sight.

  It was, I admit, a high-handed proceeding, but I considered that the conditions warranted it; but as usual certain meddlesome individuals with a mawkish sentiment for all criminals got me into very hot water, indeed. No sooner had news of my actions been spread, than extra papers blared the facts in glaring headlines, and within half an hour I was peremptorily summoned to London.

  It seemed that a tremendous uproar had been created in certain circles, and Scotland Yard had been swamped with protests, denunciations and appeals—all in no measured terms, voicing opinions of an Inspector of Police who would order irresponsible, helpless maniacs shot down in cold blood. In vain I protested that these men were red-handed, vicious, terrible murderers; that they were beyond all pale of the law or common humanity; that to attempt to capture them would result in the deaths of honest, innocent men, and that any citizen meeting them and not killing them on sight would (in all likelihood) be killed (or worse) himself. No, the law gave me no authority to order any man killed (except in self-defense). That was a matter for judge and jury. My duty was to capture them (even if by so doing lives were sacrificed). I was severely reprimanded and requested to resign from the force. Cut before I could reply, my chief answered a telephone call, and instantly his expression changed. "My God!" I heard him mutter, "It's terrible, horrible!"

  He replaced the instrument and turned to me. "From Hawley," he exclaimed, "three of the—the maniacs raided the village not fifteen minutes ago. They killed sixteen people and wounded a dozen more. And—God, Inspector, it's too horrible—the fiends were seen eating—actually devouring—the bodies! And they got clean away."

  "Sorry," I said tersely. "If my orders had not been countermanded, this could not have happened, but as the murderers—cannibals—are poor, deluded, helpless maniacs not responsible for their acts, I suppose we can afford to permit useful citizens to be destroyed in the name of humanity."

  The chief's fist struck the desk with a bang. "By the Lord, No!" he shouted. "Not by a long shot! Get back on your job, Maidstone, and use any means— any means, mind you, to stop this devilish business. Any means as long as you wipe these creatures from existence. And damn these sentimentalists!" "It's about time," I remarked, as I turned to go, "do you realize what, red tape has cost us already? Twenty-six deaths and two women driven insane by six maniacs within six hours! Nearly five an hour. I—"

  The telephone bell interrupted me. "Thank Heaven!" I heard the chief say, relief in his voice. Then, as he hung up, "It's over," he informed me. "The three brutes are dead—literally cut to ribbons. The villagers, aroused, infuriated, gave chase with any weapons they could grasp and chopped the things to pieces with bill-hooks, scythes and hay-knives. Thank God that accounts for all of them—if only six were at large."

  "We'll soon know," I replied. "If any of the beasts still live we'll soon have reports of more outrages."

  But as no further attacks were reported, we felt confident all the maniacs had been destroyed. Little did we know what was in store; and had we known I doubt if we could have done a great deal to have stopped the terrible calamity that was to fall upon England.

  Doctor Grayson Resumes His Story

  After my short conversation with Major Leighton, who was ripping open the portion of the dirigible that contained its machinery, I drove off towards Cobham and joined the coroner, who had just completed his inquest on the bodies of the murdered Gypsies and the dead albino negro. "If you have no objection," I said, "I would like permission to remove the body of the murderer. I feel that it is essential that we determine absolutely and beyond question the exact nature of the disease with which he was afflicted—that I conduct a thorough microscopic bacterial examination."

  "Nonsense!" he ejaculated. "You diagnosed it as the Yaws. You know far more of tropical diseases than I do and I'm willing to take your word for it."

  "Thank you for your appreciation of my knowledge," I smiled. "But in my tropical experience I learned that the one important fact—the one fact that impressed me the most—is that we know practically nothing of tropical diseases, especially of those of filarial origin. I have known of dozens of cases of malignant, advanced leprosy that were diagnosed as Yaws, and of as many, if not more, cases of Yaws that were classed as leprosy. And there are scores of diseases that—superficially—resemble either Yaws or leprosy, but are quite distinct; diseases of which we know little or nothing, but which are most malignant, virulent and contagious. Only by a bacterial study of the blood or pus is it possible to arrive at any definite diagnosis—and even then we are often at a loss. And if, as I fear, these creatures have spread disease throughout this district, it is most important that we have definite knowledge of its character, so that we may warn the public of the symptoms and prepare to combat it."

  "H-mm," observed the coroner. "So you really think there may be danger of an epidemic. I cannot say I agree with you. Whatever it is, it is a tropical malady and would not develop in our climate. Why, man, I've known of cases of tropical diseases that, here in England, vanished like magic. I—"

  "Quite true," I agreed, interrupting him. "But I think you will find that in such cases the patients arrived during the winter, or remained here over the winter. Our summers are warm enough to encourage tropical diseases, and, quite frequently, tropical diseases appear to become more virulent and to progress with far greater rapidity in the north than in the tropics. At all events I shall not rest easy nor feel that I have done my duty until I have assured myself of the identity of the disease with which this creature —and probably his fellows—is afflicted."

  "Have it your own way, Grayson!" he exclaimed. "It matters nothing to me. You have my permission to make any disposition you wish of the body."

  As I possessed no adequate facilities in my Ripley home for conducting the post-mortem and the exhaustive examinations I planned, I had the cadaver sent to London, and for some days devoted myself assiduously to the highly unpleasant task I had set myself.

  During this time most alarming and terrible events were taking place, but as Major Leighton has already given a very comprehensive résumé of these developments I need not repeat them, but will confine myself to my own personal activities and discoveries.

  As I had suspected, the deceased man ha
d been suffering from a most malignant form of Yaws, but in addition he had been afflicted with leprosy, Ryndal's disease and some disease that I could not identify. Cultures and inoculations tested on guinea-pigs, rabbits and monkeys proved that the latter was even more contagious and more rapid in its development than the terrible Ryndal's disease, which, as is well known, utterly destroys all sense of morality and humanity and results in producing a homicidal mania in its victims, and which, though not contagious by ordinary means or personal contact, and which as far as known, has no insect-carriers, may yet be transmitted readily through the slightest abrasion of the skin. Hence I felt certain that every person who had been wounded or scratched by the maniacal creatures would, almost inevitably, develop this most terrible of tropical maladies. Fortunately, however, I had, while working in the West Indies, discovered, or I may better say, had developed, in company with Doctor Sir Ian Maxwell, an antitoxin that, administered in time, prevented the dreaded disease from developing beyond its primary stages and eventually eliminated it from the system. But to produce the antidote in sufficient quantities to inoculate all the victims injured by the ever-increasing number of infected maniacs, who were dropping nightly from the skies, required time, and to be efficacious, it was essential that it should be used within forty-eight hours after the germs of Ryndal's disease had been transmitted.

  Needless to say, every resource of the Royal Laboratories was placed at my disposal, once my report had been made, and the antitoxin was being produced as rapidly as possible. As fast as it was made it was being distributed throughout the districts that had been cursed by the murderous beings arriving in the strange and still inexplicable airships. But there were certain discoveries that I made during my examinations of the cadaver that in some respects overshadowed my determination of the several diseases.

  To my amazement I found, upon dissecting the brain of the creatures, that the abnormality of that organ was not due to natural causes or to disease, but had been artificially produced. In other words, the creature had been operated upon during youth, or at least several years previous to my examination, and a portion of the cerebellum had been removed. There was no question of this. The incision (perfectly healed to be sure) in the skull was plain, and the scar in the brain itself was readily distinguishable.

  But to make assurance doubly sure, I secured the crania of several more of the maniacs, and in each case found precisely the same conditions. Moreover, I found that, beyond any question, the beings had been inoculated with the diseases from which they were suffering. Only one conclusion could result from these astounding discoveries. The murderous creatures—I cannot bring myself to call them men—had purposely been transformed to maniacs; they had been coldbloodedly inoculated with Ryndal's disease in order to insure their becoming potential murderers, and had been inoculated with the two most loathsome and little known of contagious diseases with the devilish idea of spreading these diseases. The whole thing was a plot, a deep-laid, unspeakably fiendish plot, that must have required years to consummate, and that was aimed at the inhabitants of England. Who, what nation, what devilish master-mind could have conceived such a monstrous thing, I could not even guess. But there was one thing certain. Some arch-enemy of our country had evolved this scheme to destroy us and, unless some means were devised to check it, it would succeed.

  I shuddered and felt sick at the mere thought of thousands of our citizens becoming raving, homicidal maniacs, of thousands—tens of thousands—suffering the awful living death of lepers, of hundreds of thousands covered with the loathsome ulcers of the Yaws. Far more fortunate were those who died at the hands and teeth of these brainless, horrible, death-dealing machines in human form. But now that I had in a small measure solved the mystery of the murderers and their purpose, my duty was clear. I must devote every energy, every effort to minimizing the spread of the diseases— I did not flatter myself that they could be completely checked—and must leave the rest to the government. I hurried to Whitehall and sought an immediate interview with Sir Kenyon McDonald. Thanks to the fact that my activities and suggestions had already accomplished results in several cases where Ryndal's disease had developed, Sir Kenyon received me at once. The chief of Great Britain's Secret Service listened with deep attention to my revelations, his keen, gray eyes under their bushy brows like pin-points, his hawk-like face set and stern.

  "The swine!" he commented. "The most damnable, utterly fiendish and amazing plot to destroy a nation that the world has ever known. No war ever held such horrible, dastardly means of destruction. Gas, submarines, bombs—all are humane, insignificant, merciful, compared with this. And why, why, why? England is not at war with any nation. We have no enemies that would resort to such atrocities. What—by Heaven, Doctor I— But never mind. You have rendered your nation a great, an immeasurable service by what you have told me. But for the present, at least until I give my approval—say nothing of what you know.”

  Jimmy Nash Takes Up the Tale

  Honestly I don't know just how to begin. After reading all that Doctor Grayson and Major Leighton and Inspector Maidstone have written, there doesn't seem much more for me to say. And there isn't anything that happened that they have told, that I knew as much about as they did, anyway.

  Everything was kept pretty secret, and about all anyone knew of what was going on was that the black airships were dropping down here, there and everywhere in England, and every time one came down a crowd of crazy, blood-thirsty negroes were let loose to murder anyone and everyone they met until they were killed off like rats. Nobody outside the government officials knew that Major Leighton was working like the devil to find out how the dirigibles worked. Nobody knew what the disease was that the negroes spread, or that it would turn peaceful people into murderers and, of course, no one knew that Doctor Grayson had discovered that the negroes had been made crazy and had been infected just to raise the devil with England. That's a great thing about England. Everything is done on the Q. T. until it's all over but the shouting. In the States everyone on the streets would know a darn sight more about what was going on than the ones who were doing it, and every paper would have three-inch headlines about it before it happened. But over here mum's the word about anything that the officials think the people shouldn't know until they're ready to tell them. Now take this business, for instance. If the papers had said the airships were being sent from some place by radio or something of the sort, and that all the army and navy couldn't stop them, and the best experts were all at sea about how they worked, and if the public had known every time one of the maniacs scratched a man or a woman, he or she'd be liable to become a crazy murderer, everyone would have been scared to death. And if they'd known some damnable enemy had been scheming for years to do this, and had been making maniacs loaded with diseases just to send them over here, and that no one knew who the enemy was or where they came from, everyone would have gone up in the air and raised Ned. So I guess it's just as well to keep things mum the way they do. And maybe it's because the lawbreakers don't know what the bobbies are doing that mighty few of them get clear. Well, I seem to be getting off the trolley a bit and not saying anything about the things that happened or where I came into the picture.

  In the first place I'm an American, and so I wouldn't have had the chance to know what was going on that an English chap would, anyway. And in the second place, the part I took in the thing was all by accident and no thanks to me or my brains. I was over here partly on business and partly on pleasure; my business being the bee in my bonnet over a new kind of light that a pal of mine had invented.

  You see he'd been associated with one of the big radio companies and had got interested in radio television and had been carrying on a lot of experiments. I don't know how far he got with that end of the business, but I used to go to his laboratory and watch him and now and then I'd ask some questions or make some suggestion and we'd have a lot of fun trying out my crazy ideas. Sometimes they'd work and sometimes they wouldn't, but being a prof
essional photographer and knowing something about that business, he used to depend a lot on me when it came to matters that had anything to do with lenses or sensitive plates and so on. You see, Bob was working along new lines. He didn't have much faith in the Baird method or any of the others that had been invented. He claimed that even when pictures were sent by radio by those methods they weren't in natural colors and that even when they did show color they had to be sent from a special place all fixed up with certain kinds of light and surroundings. What he was after was a scheme for broadcasting scenes and people just as they were naturally, here, there and the other place. That is, to say, with his device—that is, the way he imagined it—a man could set up a machine in the street or anywhere else and set the thing going and the receiver at the other end would get the picture, just as he saw it, with the sounds all there. It would be like a talky-movie without a film, only better, and Bob thought the only way to get it would be with a combination camera-radio outfit of some sort.