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The Phantom Airman
CHAPTER I
THE SECRET OF THE SCHWARZWALD
Rittmeister Heinrich von Spitzer, late flight-commander in the German Air Service, was one of the Prussian irreconcilables, who, rather than submit to the peace terms enforced by the Allies after the defeat of Germany, resolved to become an aerial brigand, an outlaw of the nations, and to wage a bitter warfare of violence and plunder against his late enemies.
His proud spirit refused to bend before the conquerors, for the iron shaft of defeat had embittered his soul, particularly against Britain, whom he had ever regarded as the evil genius of the Entente.
One day, when his plans were well matured, he unburdened his spirit to a couple of his friends, kindred souls, men after his own heart, both of them apt pupils of the great Richthofen, who was still referred to by his disciples as "the red airman." They had been engaged that day in dismantling an aerodrome on the edge of the Schwarzwald; to them, at least, a hateful job.
"Comrades," he said, "this peace has ruined us. Germania delenda est, but I will not sit still amid the ruins of the Fatherland. Glorious we have lived, like kings of the air; let us not inglorious die."
"I am with you, Rittmeister. I will follow you to the gulfs," exclaimed one of his companions, named Carl, who had been a famous scout pilot in the Richthofen "circus," and the lightning flashed from the young airman's eyes as he spoke.
"But what can we do against the empires of the world?" asked a Gotha pilot who had raided the English towns a score of times.
For answer the chief turned a withering look upon the last speaker and said:–
"Max, you have faced death a hundred times in the air, and over the British lines. You have thirty enemy machines to your credit, and yet you ask me what can we do?"
"What of it, Rittmeister? Tell us what is in your mind."
"Listen, then, both of you, and I will tell you what still remains for brave men to do. All is not lost while courage and hope remain," and whilst he spoke the German chief drew his two friends away from the half-dismantled aerodrome on the southern edge of the Schwarzwald, to a narrow path that led amongst the trees.
When the aerodrome was hid from view he began to speak once more, huskily at first, as though restraining some pent up excitement.
"I am in possession of a secret," he said, "which I may not tell even to you unless you first swear to follow me on some great adventure."
They both looked at him, not a little amazed and bewildered, and neither spoke for a moment.
"I have chosen you," continued Spitzer, "because I know you to be men of daring and resource. You are both dissatisfied with the condition of things in the Fatherland. Ach Himmel! This occupation of the sacred German soil by the Britisher, the Frenchman and the American is breaking my heart. I will endure it no longer, but I will strike a blow at the enemy before I die."
As he spoke thus, he almost hissed out the words which he uttered, for his voice had now lost its strange huskiness, while his eyes gleamed like the fierce glittering orbs of the tiger about to make its spring from the hidden jungle. Nor was his present madness without its visible effect upon his two companions, for he had strange powers of magnetic influence, this Prussian Junker.
"Donner and Blitz, but you are right, Rittmeister!" exclaimed Carl, the blood mounting to his temples.
"And you, Max, what say you?" and the chief fixed the Gotha pilot with his eyes.
"Ja! ja!" he assented. "I am with you also."
"But the end of this adventure is death!" continued von Spitzer, speaking now more deliberately. "This much I must tell you in all fairness before I proceed further. However much we achieve–and we shall accomplish not a little–there can be no other ending."
"Bah! we have looked too often into the face of that monster to be afraid," returned the scout.
"You speak truly, Carl," replied the chief. "When your machine went down in flames near Cambrai, you passed so close to me that I stalled my Fokker to let you pass, and I saw the smile upon your lips that day as you looked into the face of death. I never expected to see you alive again, but you were saved for this."
Then, amid the gloom of the dark aisles of the Schwarzwald, these two men swore to follow their chief on this last great adventure, as they had followed him during the darkest days of the war.
"And now I will tell you the secret which I hold, and which at present is known only to two other men," said the Rittmeister, and, sitting down about the gnarled roots of an upturned tree, the two airmen listened to the following story:
"You have heard me sometimes speak of a great mathematician and engineer, by name one Professor Weissmann," began von Spitzer.
"Yes, we have heard of him," replied the others.
"He is the greatest living scientist; moreover, he is a practical engineer, and during the last four years he has devoted his time entirely to designing, constructing and perfecting with his own hands, assisted by one other mechanic, a wonderful aeroplane, compared to which neither the Allies nor the Central Powers have anything to approximate."
"Donnerwetter, but why wasn't it ready before?" exclaimed Max. "It might have turned the tide of battle in the autumn of 1918."
"It's no use crying over spilt milk," replied the chief. "It could not be completed before."
"And you say that this wonderful machine is now ready," interposed Max, who had flown every type of machine from a single-seater scout to a heavy bomber, and whose professional curiosity had now been thoroughly awakened by the words of the German ace.
"It is ready, and what is more to the point, it is at my disposal," returned the chief briefly.
"Der Teufel! But where is it?"
"I can lead you to it, for it is less than three miles from where we sit at the present moment."
"Himmel!" exclaimed both the pilots, springing to their feet. "Take us to see it, Rittmeister; we have given you our promise."
"Be calm, my friends; you shall see it to-day. But let me put you on your guard. You must not speak of it aloud, but only in whispers, for the secret of this machine is jealously guarded, and its whereabouts is unknown, save to the professor, his assistant and myself."
"Has it ever been flown?" ventured Max.
"Yes."
"Who was the pilot?"
"I was."
"You, Rittmeister?" exclaimed the amazed airmen.
"Yes."
"And you are satisfied at her performances?" asked Carl, gazing steadfastly into the eyes of his chief.
"More than satisfied. She is the most wonderful and responsive thing I have ever flown. You will say the same when you have seen her, and made a trip or two."
"Phew! take us to see her now; I would give ten years of my life to fly in her," said Max, who was getting almost feverish in his anxiety to see this wonderful thing and to handle her controls; for such is the lure of the air,
