The Secret Battleplane Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  A MYSTERIOUS BENEFACTOR

  "GET the luggage out, old man," said Dick. "We'll pad the hoof andsee if we can find a cottage. We might, with luck, get a fellow witha horse to pull the bike to the top of the hill."

  "I guess the job's beyond the powers of a gee-gee," remarked Athol,who, ankle-deep in snow, was unstrapping the luggage from thecarrier. "We'll have a shot at hiking the show into the drift. Itseems fairly firm snow on this side."

  By dint of strenuous efforts the two lads succeeded in lifting theheavy side-car to the fringe of the road, leaving a space of lessthan six feet between the wheel of the car and the snow-bank on theopposite face of the track. Then, shouldering their belongings, theweather-bound travellers trudged stolidly up the hilly road.

  "Here's a jamboree!" exclaimed Dick after a long silence. He wasregaining his breath and with it his exuberant spirits. "We'll havesomething to remember. By Jove, isn't this a ripping country?"

  "It's all very fine," said Athol guardedly, "but, remember, we may beheld up for a fortnight. This stuff takes a jolly lot of thawing,you know. Hulloa! There's someone hammering."

  "The child is correct," declared Dick with a laugh. "And hammeringmetal work. I believe our friend the horseman was a little out in hisstatements. There must be a human habitation of sorts, and, judgingby the direction of the sounds--unless the acoustic properties of asnowstorm are erratic--the fellow is tinkering away on that hill onour right. Yes, old man, here's a gap in the hedge. It looksremarkably like a carriage drive."

  For the last hundred yards the road was bounded by a raised banksurmounted by a thick laurel hedge. The gap that was just beginningto become visible resolved itself into a pathway barred by a tallgate tipped with a row of formidable spikes.

  "Wonder there isn't an array of notice-boards of the 'Trespasserswill be prosecuted' order," remarked Athol. "It seems to me that noone has used this path since it started snowing. However, it mustlead somewhere, so let's investigate."

  Lifting the rusty latch the two lads pushed hard against the gate.They had to force the bottom bars through eighteen inches of snowbefore they could open it.

  The hammering noise was still maintained with hardly a break. Theworkman, whoever he might be, was certainly industrious.

  For fifty yards the path ran straight up a steep ascent and then boreabruptly to the left. Here Athol and his chum were confronted byanother gate which, unlike the outer one, was secured by a stoutpadlock and chain. On either side ran a laurel hedge almost as tallas the one separating the grounds from the highway. To the right handgate-post was attached a socket supporting a large bell, the clapperbeing worked by means of a chain.

  "I say, looks a bit fishy, eh?" remarked Dick, regarding the barrierwith interest. "P'raps we've struck a private asylum."

  "Don't know. Suppose if the owner wants to keep tramps and strandedwayfarers out, he's quite at liberty to do so," replied Athol."However, necessity knows no law, so let's agitate the piece ofsounding brass."

  He jerked the chain. The bell rang out with startling loudness, thevibrations echoing and re-echoing between the pine clumps. Thehammering ceased abruptly.

  An old man, supporting himself by means of a stick, ambled throughthe snow, appearing from behind the hedge on the left of the gate. Hewas apparently about eighty years of age, wizened featured and whitehaired.

  "What do you want?" he asked in a quavery voice. "My master sees noone except by appointment. If you have one, well and good; if youhaven't, 'tisn't any use your stopping here."

  As he spoke he made a snapping sound with his fingers and, in answerto the signal, two enormous bull-terriers lolled sullenly to the oldman's side, and with the precision of a pair of music-hall twins,each bared his formidable teeth and growled menacingly.

  Athol stood his ground. The chilliness of his reception had "set hisback up."

  "Look here, my man," he said with asperity. "You've done your duty bywarning us, now go and tell your master that he is wanted--and looksharp about it."

  Then, seeing the old fellow hesitate, he added,

  "Sharp about it, I said. I'm not used to giving the same ordertwice."

  "And I am not used to having my servants ordered about by strangers,"exclaimed a deep, well-modulated voice. "Since your business seemsurgent perhaps you will kindly state it."

  The speaker was a tall, finely built man of about forty years of age.His features were clear cut, his brow lofty, and his jaw massive. Hewas clean shaven, revealing a pair of tightly pursed lips. Hiscomplexion was pale, his eyes of a deep blue colour and set ratherwide apart beneath a pair of bushy, overhanging brows. Across hisforehead was a horizontal scar of old standing, showing white even incontrast to his greyish complexion. His hair was dark brown tingedwith grey and growing high upon his temples.

  "We called to ask for assistance," began Athol. "Our motor-bike----"

  "Mechanical breakdown?" asked the occupier of the premises.

  "No; we're snowed up, and the side-car wheel has given out,"announced the lad.

  "H'm; well, I'm glad it isn't an engine fault," remarked thestranger. "Had it been you would have had no sympathy from me. Afellow who cannot tackle a refractory engine ought not to be allowedin charge of one on the road. Where's your bike?"

  "About a hundred yards down the hill and in a snow-drift," repliedAthol. "We did our level best but the snow was too much for us. Wethought, perhaps, that we might find someone who has a horse----"

  "Horse," repeated the man. "It will want something better than ahorse, I'm thinking. Open those gates, Harvey, and look sharp aboutit. Come in, both of you. I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

  He gave the lads an approving smile as they both walked past thebulldogs without the faintest hesitation. Then he disappeared up thepath, while the gatekeeper, having opened and unfastened the massiveportal, vanished between the laurel hedges.

  "We've struck a rummy show, old man," whispered Dick. "The old chapisn't a bad sort, though. Wonder what he is going to bring out? Atraction engine?"

  Tracey's curiosity was speedily set at rest by the reappearance ofthe stranger, dragging behind him a sleigh. The contrivance had norunners; it consisted merely of a rectangular sheet of metal curledat the foremost end. On it were thrown a couple of fir planks, aboutsix feet in length, and nine inches in breadth.

  "It's quite easy, thanks," said the stranger, declining the lads'offer to assist in dragging the sleigh. "It's made of aluminium. Youwill have to bear a hand when we get the bike on it. Best footforward. I have a lot of work to finish before lunch, you know."

  "Threaded?"

  "Yes, we cut the threads before we left."

  "Good men!" exclaimed their benefactor approvingly. "You both seem ofa mechanical turn of mind. Well, you can set to work. If there'sanything you require ring that bell. Lunch will be ready in an hourand twenty minutes. If you haven't finished by that time there's fourhours between that and teatime. Excuse me, I must be off."

  The shed was well lighted and warmed by means of hot water pipes. Inone corner was a portable forge, in front of one window an up-to-datelathe. Engineer's tools, all in excellent condition, occupied rackson the walls, while on the beams overhead were bundles of white metalrods and stacks of aluminium sheeting.

  "We've fallen on our feet, old man," remarked Dick. "Lunch, too, byJove! I'm hungry. Our scrumptious repast at Shrewsbury is but apleasant memory. I could do a jolly good tuck-in now."

  "Nothing like work to while away the time," asserted Athol, castingoff his motor-overalls and coat and rolling up his sleeves; "Buck up,old fellow, and rip that tyre off."

  Soon the two young tourists were hard at it, and none was moresurprised than they were when the door of the shed was opened andtheir host exclaimed,

  "Spell-oh! Down tools, lads. Why, you have made a show. You'll findsome cleaning stuff in that tin. I'll take you to the bathroom in thehouse."

  "'Fraid we're in a jolly pickle," said Athol apologetically.


  "I'm used to that," rejoined the stranger, as he led the way to asubstantially-built stone-house standing in an open space between thepine-trees. "If you like to take off your boots--they look prettysaturated--I'll lend you some slippers."

  Having washed, the lads were ushered into a long dining-room. Thetable was laid with covers for three. An old manservant, who mighthave been a brother to the gatekeeper, waited until the diners' wantshad been attended to; then having thrown a couple of logs upon thealready briskly glowing fire, he went out.

  "Now to business," exclaimed their host. "First let me introducemyself. My name is Desmond Blake. My age--an important considerationin these strenuous days--is forty-two; my profession, an engineer whohas been cold-shouldered by a--but that can wait. Now, tell me, whatare your names? And what brings you in these parts?"