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The Flying Girl
CHAPTER XIX
PLANNING THE CAMPAIGN
That evening the secretary of the Aëro Club telephoned Mr. Cumberford to ask if he wished to withdraw his entry from contest in the coming aviation meet.
“By no means,” was the reply.
“But you state that Kane is to be the aviator, and we are informed that Kane has a broken leg.”
“Leave the entry as it stands: ‘Kane, Aviator,’” said Cumberford, positively.
“Very well, sir,” returned the secretary, evidently puzzled.
But his friend Burthon, who had suggested his telephoning, was highly pleased when he learned Mr. Cumberford’s decision.
“All right,” he observed, with satisfaction; “we’ll leave the Kane Aircraft on the programme, for everyone is talking of the wonderful device and the announcement of its competition will be the greatest drawing card we have. But the entry of ‘Kane, Aviator’ will disqualify anyone but Kane from operating the aircraft, and I happen to know his leg is in a plaster cast and he cannot use it for months to come.”
“Won’t it hurt us to disqualify the Kane Aircraft and have it withdrawn at the last moment?” inquired the secretary, doubtfully.
“No; for I’m going to spring on the crowd the biggest surprise of the century – Burthon’s Biplane.”
“Are you sure of its success, sir?”
“Absolutely. Kane copied his machine from mine, as I have before explained to you, and in addition to all the good points he has exhibited I have the advantage of a perfect automatic balance. If Kane’s device had been equipped with it he wouldn’t have fallen the other day.”
Perhaps Mr. Burthon was sincere in saying this. He had had no opportunity to examine Stephen’s latest creation at close quarters, but on the day of the trial at Kane Park he had observed the fact that Stephen had abandoned the automatic balance he had first patented, and now had recourse to crossed planes. Both Burthon and his mechanics considered the original device the best and most practical, and they depended upon it for the biggest advertisement of Burthon’s Improved Biplane, having of course no hint that Stephen had tested it and found it sadly lacking.
On the 26th the Burthon flyer was ready for trial, and Tot Tyler, after several attempts, got it into the air and made a short flight that filled the heart of Mr. Burthon with elation.
“Curtiss and the Wrights will do better than that, though,” observed the ex-chauffeur, “to say nothing of those daredevils Latham and Hoxsey. I’ll improve after a few more trials, but I can’t promise ever to do better than the other fellows do.”
“That isn’t to be expected,” returned Burthon. “I’m not backing you to excel the performances of the old aviators; that isn’t my point. The improvements and novelties we have to show will take the wind out of the sails of all other aëroplanes and result in a flood of orders. Comparing machine for machine, we’re years in advance of the Wrights and Curtiss – and centuries ahead of those foreign devices.”
“Perhaps,” admitted Tot. “But Kane’s aëroplane is practically the same as your own, and it is still on the programme.”
“It won’t fly, though,” declared Burthon, with a laugh. “Don’t worry about anything but your own work, Tyler. Leave all the rest to me.”
The man knew his employer was playing a hazardous game and that he had stolen outright the Kane Aircraft, and while the knowledge did not add to Tot Tyler’s nerve or assurance he was gleeful over the prospect of “doing” his enemy, Cumberford. The little fellow was bold enough – even to the point of bravery – and fully as unprincipled as his employer. His hatred of Cumberford was so acrid that he would have gone to any length, even without pay, to defeat his plans, and Burthon found him an eager and willing tool. Nevertheless, the little man scented danger ahead of them and had an idea that trouble was brewing from some unknown source.
By this time Burthon had begun a campaign of widespread publicity, and in spite of the long list of famous aviators in the city the newspapers were filled with pictures of the Burthon device and accounts of the marvelous flights of Totham Tyler. Nothing more was heard of the Kane Aircraft, but the public had not forgotten it and many were puzzled that two local aëroplane makers should be exhibiting identically the same improvements, each claiming to have originated them. As for the visiting aviators, they were interested, but held their peace. The performances at the coming competition would tell the story of supremacy, and whatever good points were displayed by the local inventors could doubtless be adapted to their own craft. They waited, therefore, for proof of the glowing claims made in the newspapers. Many promising inventions have turned out to be failures.
The public was, to an extent, in the same doubting mood. Kane’s magnificent public flight had ended with an accident, while Tyler’s preliminary exhibitions were in no way remarkable as compared with records already established. The meet would tell the story.
Meantime Orissa completed her repairs. On the day that Steve came home from the hospital in an ambulance she wheeled him in an invalid chair to the hangar and allowed the boy to inspect a perfect aircraft. The young man suffered no pain, and although he was physically helpless his eye and brain were as keen as ever. Being wheeled around the device, so that he could observe it from all sides and at all angles, he made a thorough examination of his sister’s work and declared it excellent.
“Think you can manage it, Ris?” he asked, referring to her proposed venture.
“I am sure I can,” she promptly replied. “You must understand – all of you,” turning to confront Mr. Cumberford and Sybil, who were present, “that I am not undertaking this flight from choice. Had Steve been able to exhibit his own aëroplane I might never have tried to fly alone; but it seems to me that our fortune, my brother’s future career, and our friend Mr. Cumberford’s investment, all hinge upon our making a good showing at Dominguez Field. No one but me is competent to properly exhibit the aircraft, to show all its good points and prove what it is capable of doing. Therefore I have undertaken to save our reputation and our money, and I am sure that my decision is proper and right.”
“I agree with you,” said Steve, eagerly. “You’re a brave little girl, Ris.”
“I have but one request to make, Mr. Cumberford,” she added.
“What is it, Orissa?” he inquired.
“Do not advertise me as ‘The Girl Aviator,’ or by any other such name. I prefer people should remain ignorant of the fact that a girl is operating the Kane Aircraft. Can’t you keep quiet about it?”
“I can, and will,” he asserted. “Indeed, my dear, I much prefer that course. It will be all the more interesting when – when – the discovery is made.”
“I do not wish to become a celebrity,” she said, seriously. “One in the family is enough,” glancing proudly at Steve, “and I’m afraid nice people would think me unmaidenly and bold to become a public aviator. I’m not at all freakish – indeed, I’m not! – and only stern necessity induces me to face this ordeal.”
“My dear,” said Mr. Cumberford, looking at her admiringly, “your feelings shall be considered in every possible way. But you must not imagine you are the first female aviator. In Europe – especially in France – a score of women have made successful flights, and not one is considered unwomanly or has forfeited any claim to the world’s respect and applause.”
“The most successful aviators of the future,” remarked Stephen, thoughtfully, “are bound to be women. As a rule they are lighter than men, more supple and active, quick of perception and less liable to lose their heads in emergencies. The operation of an aëroplane is, it seems to me, especially fitted to women.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Sybil, with a whimsical glance at the speaker, “I have discovered my future vocation. I shall aviate parties of atmospheric tourists. When the passenger airships are introduced I’ll become the original sky motoress, and so win fame and fortune.”
Steve laughed, but shook his head.
“The airship of the future will not be a passenger affair,” he predicted, “but an individual machine for personal use. They’ll be cheaper than automobiles, and more useful, for they can go direct to their destination in a straight ‘air-line.’ Men will use them to go to business, women to visit town on shopping expeditions or to take an airing for pleasure; but I’m sure they will be built for but one person.”
“Then I’ll have one and become a free lance in the sky, roaming where I will,” declared Sybil.
This unconventional girl had developed a decided fancy for the inventor, and while in his presence it was noticed that she became less reserved and mysterious than at other times. Steve liked Sybil, too, although she was so strong a contrast to his own beautiful sister. When she cared to be agreeable Miss Cumberford proved interesting and was, Steve thought, “good company.” Orissa observed that Sybil invariably presented the best side of her character to Steve. While he was in the hospital the girl visited him daily, and now that he had come home again she passed most of her time at the hangar.
Mr. Cumberford was greatly annoyed to learn that the Kane headquarters at Dominguez Field had been given a location in the rear of all the others, where it would be practically unnoticed. Of course this slight was attributed to Burthon’s influence with the committee of arrangements, of which he was a member. Burthon’s own hangar, on the contrary, had a very prominent position. From his man Brewster, as well as from others, Mr. Cumberford also learned that Burthon had hinted he would prevent the Kane Aircraft from taking any part in the contests.
All these things worried the Kane party, whose anxieties would have been sufficient had they not been forced to encounter the petty malice of Burthon. Sybil, silently listening to all that was said, assumed a more mysterious air than usual, and on the day previous to the opening of the great aviation meet she informed her father that she would not accompany him to Dominguez, where he was bound to attend to all final preparations. The decision surprised him, but being accustomed to his daughter’s sudden whims he made no reply and left her in their rooms at the hotel.
CHAPTER XX
UNCLE AND NIECE
When her father had gone Sybil addressed a note to Mr. Burthon which read:
“I will call upon you, at your club, for a private interview at twelve o’clock precisely. As all your future depends upon this meeting you will not fail to keep the appointment.”
She signed this message with the initials “S. C.” and Mr. Burthon, receiving it as he was about to start for Dominguez in his motor car, for the messenger had had a lively chase over town to catch him, read and reread the epistle carefully, was thoughtful a moment, and then ordered his man to drive him to the club.
“‘S. C.,’” he mused; “who on earth can it be? A woman’s handwriting, of course, crude and unformed. When women intrigue there is usually a reason for it. Better find out what’s in the wind, even at the loss of a little valuable time. That’s the safest plan.”
He reached his club at exactly twelve o’clock and heard a woman inquiring for him of the doorkeeper. He met her, bowed, and without a word led her to his own private sitting room, on the third floor. The woman – or was it a girl? – was, he observed, heavily veiled, but as soon as they were alone she removed the veil and looked at him steadfastly from a pair of dark, luminous eyes.
Mr. Burthon shifted uneasily in his chair. He had never seen the girl before, yet there was something singularly familiar in her features.
“Be good enough to tell me who you are,” he said in the gentle tone he invariably employed toward women. “I have granted this interview at your request, but I am very busy to-day and have little time to spare you.”
“I am your niece,” she replied, slowly and deliberately.
“Oh!” he exclaimed; then paused to observe her curiously. “So, you are my sister Marian’s daughter.”
“Exactly.”
“I knew she had a child, for often she wrote me about it; but her early death and my estrangement with your father prevented me from seeing you, until now. Your mother, my dear, was a – a noble woman.”
“You are not telling the truth,” said Sybil, quietly. “She was quite the contrary.”
He started and flushed. Then he replied, somewhat confused by the girl’s scornful regard:
“At least, I loved her. She was my only sister.”
“And your accomplice.”
“Eh?” He stared, aghast. Then, quickly recovering himself, he remarked:
“You were rather too young, when she died, to judge your mother’s character correctly.”
“It is true; but I remember her with abhorrence.”
“Your father, on the other hand,” observed Mr. Burthon, his face hardening, “might well deserve your hatred and aversion. He is a scoundrel.”
“I have heard him say so,” replied Sybil, smiling, “but I do not believe it. In any event his iniquity could not equal that of the Burthons.”
“We are complimentary,” said her uncle, returning the smile with seeming amusement. “But I regret to say I have no time to further converse with you to-day. Will you call again, if you have anything especial to say to me?”
“No,” replied Sybil. “You must listen to me to-day.”
“To-morrow – ”
“To-morrow,” she interrupted, “you may be in prison. It is not easy to interview criminals in jail, is it?”
He looked at her now with more than curiosity; his gaze was searching, half fearful, inquiring.
“You speak foolishly,” said he.
“Yet you understand me perfectly,” she returned.
“I confess that I do not,” he coldly persisted.
“Then I must explain,” said she. “When my mother died I was but eight years of age. But I was old for my years, and on her deathbed your sister placed in my hands a sealed envelope, directing me to guard it carefully and secretly, and not to open it until I was eighteen years of age – and not then unless I had in some way incurred the enmity and persecution of my uncle, George Burthon. She said it was her confession.”
He sat perfectly still, as if turned to stone, his eyes fixed full upon the girl’s face. With an effort he said, in a soft voice:
“Have I persecuted you?”
“Indirectly; yes.”
“But you cannot be eighteen yet!”
“No,” she admitted; “I am only seventeen.”
He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Then – ”
“But I am half a Burthon,” Sybil continued, “and therefore have little respect for the wishes of others – especially when they interfere with my own desires. I kept the letter my mother gave me, but had no interest in opening it until the other day.”
“And you read it then?”
“Two or three times – perhaps half a dozen – with great care.”
“Where is that letter now?”
“Where you cannot find it, clever as you are. I may say I have great respect for your cleverness, my dear uncle, since reading the letter. How paltry the story of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde seems after knowing you!”
He moved uneasily in his seat; but the man was on the defensive now, and eyed his accuser steadily.
“You seem much like your mother,” he suggested, reflectively.
“But you are wrong; I am more like my father.”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“What matter, my child? You have a rare inheritance, on either side.”
They sat in silence a moment. Then he said:
“You have not yet confided to me your errand.”
“True. I have a request to make which I am sure you will comply with. You must stop annoying the Kanes.”
He smiled at her.
“You have marked them for your own prey – you and your precious father?”
“Yes. Your persecution must cease, and at once.”
He seemed thoughtful.
“I have an end in view,” said he; “an important end.”
“I know; you want to force Orissa to marry you. But that is absurd. She is scarcely half your age, and – she despises you.”
He flushed at this.
“Nevertheless – ”
“I won’t have it!” cried Sybil, sternly. “And, another thing: you must withdraw your aëroplane from the aviation meet to-morrow.”
“Must?”
“I used the word advisedly. I have the power to compel you to obey me, and I intend to use it.”
He sat watching her with his eyes slightly narrowed. Sybil was absolutely composed.
“Your mother, my dear,” he presently remarked, “was a – charming woman, but inclined to be visionary and imaginative. I have no idea what she wrote in that letter, but if it is anything that asperses my character, my integrity or fairness, it is not true, and can only be accounted for by the fact that the poor creature was driven insane by your father, and did not know what she was doing.”
“Oh, indeed!” the girl retorted. “Is it not true, then, that you were convicted in Baltimore, twenty years ago, of a dastardly murder and robbery, and sentenced by the court to life imprisonment? Is it not true that my mother at that time contrived your escape and secreted you so cleverly that the officers of the law could never find you?”
“It is not true,” he declared, speaking with apparent effort.
“The letter states that you were arrested and convicted under the name of Harcliffe; that when active search for you was finally abandoned you went with my mother to Chicago, and there began a new life under your right name of Burthon; that there your sister met and married my father, although you opposed the match bitterly, fearing she would betray your secret to her husband. But she never did.”
“It is not true,” he repeated. “The whole story is but a tissue of lies.”
“Then,” said Sybil, “I will telegraph to the police of Baltimore that the escaped prisoner, Harcliffe, whom they have been seeking these twenty years, is here in Los Angeles, and ask them to send at once someone to identify him. You need not be afraid, for the story is false. They will come, I will point you out to them, and they will declare you are not the man. Then I will believe you – not before.”
He sat a long time, his head upon his hand, looking at her reflectively. At the same time her dark eyes were fixed upon him with equal intentness.
By and by she laughed aloud, but there was no mirth in the sound.
“Not that, dear uncle,” she said, as if he had spoken. “Am I not my mother’s daughter, and my clever uncle’s own niece? You cannot quiet me by murder, for in that case my revenge is fully provided for. I know you, and I did not venture upon this disagreeable errand unprepared. There is a plain clothes man at the street door, who, if I do not emerge from this club in – ” she looked at her watch – “in fifteen minutes, will summon assistance, guard every exit, and then search your rooms for my body. The doorkeeper has my name and knows that I am here. Therefore, to injure me now would be to thrust your head into the hangman’s noose. Afterward you will be very considerate of my welfare, for from this day any harm that befalls me will lead to your prompt arrest and the disclosure of your secret.”
He threw out his hands with a despairing, helpless gesture.
“What a demon you are!” he cried.
“I believe I am,” said Sybil, slowly. “I hate myself for being obliged to act in this dramatic fashion – to threaten and bully like a coward – but being blessed with so unscrupulous an uncle I cannot accomplish my purpose in a more dignified way.”
“State your demands, then,” said he.
“I have stated them.”
“To withdraw my aëroplane from the aviation meet would mean my ruin. I have sold my real estate and brokerage business and invested my money in aviation; I positively cannot withdraw now.”
“You must. To whine of ruin is absurd. I know that my father paid you a quarter of a million for your mine. You also obtained, without doubt, a good sum for your business. So far you cannot have invested more than a few thousand dollars in your attempt to steal Stephen Kane’s invention. My advice, sir, is to get away from here as soon as you can. Go to London or Paris, where there is more interest in aviation than here, and make a business of flying, if you will. But the Kane device is fully protected by foreign patents, and any infringement will be promptly prosecuted.”
“You are merciless,” he complained.
“You will find me so.”
“I am a member of the Aëro Club. I cannot, without arousing suspicion, withdraw my aëroplane from the meet.”
“If you do not I will telegraph to Baltimore.”
The threat seemed to crush him and still any further remonstrances.
“Very well,” he returned; “if you have finished your errand please leave me. I must – consider – my – position.”
She rose, cast one scornful glance at him and walked out of the room, leaving him seated with bowed head, dejected and utterly defeated.
