The Motor Pirate Read online

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  HE HAD INSISTED UPON THE TWO WOMEN DANCING FOR HISAMUSEMENT]

  THE

  MOTOR PIRATE

  By

  G. Sidney Paternoster

  With a Frontispiece by Charles R. Sykes

  New York * * * * * A. Wessels Company * * * * * * MCMVI

  _Copyright, 1904_ BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)

  * * * * *

  _All rights reserved_

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. MAINLY ABOUT MYSELF 1 II. THE COMPTON CHAMBERLAIN OUTRAGE 9 III. WHEREIN I MEET THE PIRATE 21 IV. CONCERNING MY RIVAL 36 V. THE COLONEL DREAMS AND I AWAKEN 48 VI. I AM ARRESTED 59 VII. I MAKE FRIENDS WITH INSPECTOR FORREST, C.I.D 71 VIII. MURDER 81 IX. EXPLAINS A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 92 X. DESCRIBING A RIDE WITH THE PIRATE 104 XI. IN WHICH THE PIRATE HOLDS UP THE BRIGHTON MAIL 113 XII. HOW WE EXCHANGE SHOTS WITH THE PIRATE 123 XIII. OF THE ADVANTAGES OF BEING WOUNDED 135 XIV. A CLOUD APPEARS ON LOVE'S HORIZON 145 XV. A CLUE AT LAST 155 XVI. I COMMIT A BURGLARY 165 XVII. STORM 176 XVIII. IN WHICH THE PIRATE APPEARS IN A FROLICSOME HUMOUR 187 XIX. A HOT SCENT 196 XX. RELATES HOW THE PIRATE HOLDS UP AN AUGUST PERSONAGE 207 XXI. WE PLAN AN AMBUSH 218 XXII. GONE AWAY 228 XXIII. SAVED 240 XXIV. REVELATIONS 249

  THE MOTOR PIRATE

  CHAPTER I

  MAINLY ABOUT MYSELF

  OF course every one has heard of the Motor Pirate. No one indeed couldhelp doing so unless he or she, as the case may be, happened to be insome part of the world where newspapers never penetrate; since formonths his doings were the theme of every gossip in the country, and hisexploits have filled columns of every newspaper from the moment of hisfirst appearance until the day when the reign of terror he hadinaugurated upon the roads ended as suddenly and as sensationally as ithad begun. Who the owner of the pirate car was? Whence he came? Whitherhe went? These are questions which have exercised minds innumerable; butthough there have been nearly as many theories propounded as there werebrains at work propounding them, so far no informed account of the manor his methods has been made public.

  Nearly twelve months have now elapsed since he was last heard of, andalready a number of myths have grown up about his mysteriouspersonality. For instance, it is not true, as I saw asserted in asensational evening paper the other day, that the Motor Pirate was inthe habit of abducting every young and attractive woman who happened tobe travelling in any of the cars he held up. On only one occasion did heabduct a lady, and in that case there were special circumstances withwhich the public have never been made acquainted. His deeds were quiteblack enough without further blackening with printer's ink, and it wouldbe a pity if the real Motor Pirate were lost sight of in mythical hazesuch as has gathered about the name of his great prototype, Dick Turpin.

  It has occurred to me, therefore, to tell the story of his doings--itwould be impossible for any mortal man to give an absolutely detailedaccount of his life and actions--but I know more than the majority ofpeople about the personality of the man. Of one thing my readers may beassured: I personally can vouch for the accuracy of every fact which Ichronicle. You see I am not a professional historian.

  How it happened that I am in a position to give hitherto unknownparticulars about the Motor Pirate will appear in the course of mynarrative. Sufficient for the moment let it be for me to say that it waspurely by chance that the opportunity was thrown in my way; though, asit happened, it was not entirely without my own volition that I becameinvolved in the network of events which finally resulted in the tragedywhich closed his career. By that tragedy the world lost a brilliantthinker and inventor, though unfortunately these great talents wereaccompanied by an abnormal condition of mind, which led the owner toutilise his invention in criminal pursuits.

  It may probably seem strange that, being in possession of facts as tothe identity of this mysterious person, I did not lay them before thepolice, who, at any time during the three months of his criminal career,would have given their ears to lay him by the heels. You may even thinkit is their duty to take proceedings against me as an accomplice. Well,I am quite prepared to answer any question which the police, or any oneelse for that matter, desires to put to me. James Sutgrove, of SutgroveHall, Norfolk, is not likely to change his address. When my poor oldgovernor died he left me sufficient excuse, in the shape of real estate,for remaining in the country of my birth; though, if the necessity hadarisen, I should not have hesitated about going abroad. At twenty-five,my age within a few weeks, a man has usually sufficient energy to enablehim to carve out a career for himself in a new country, and I do notthink I am very different to my fellows in that respect. But the factis, I have nothing to fear from the police. My criminality was less thantheirs. An ordinary citizen may be forgiven if he is blind to themeaning of things which occur under his nose, but the police areexpected to be possessed of somewhat sharper vision. The utmost that canbe urged against me is, that if my eyes had been keener than those ofScotland Yard, reinforced by the trained vision of some hundreds ofintelligent chief constables throughout the country, I might have beenable to lay my hands upon the Motor Pirate before--but I must notanticipate my story.

  One word of apology, however, before I begin. In order to make mynarrative fully intelligible I shall have to refer to matters which mayseem of a purely personal nature. I will make these as brief aspossible, but it was entirely through such that I was brought intocloser touch with the Motor Pirate than, perhaps with one exception, anyother person in the world. If therefore I seem to be devoting too muchattention to what appears to be merely personal interest, I trust I maybe excused. To begin, then, at the beginning.

  * * * * *

  On the evening of March 31, 19--, I had arranged to dine in town with acouple of friends, both of them neighbours of mine. I am not going tomention the name of the restaurant. It was not one of the fashionableones, or probably neither the cuisine nor the wines would have been sogood as they were, though both would unquestionably have been moreexpensive. I prefer, therefore, to keep the name to myself. It was inthe neighbourhood of Soho, however, and the reason I had invited myfriends was in order to disabuse their minds of the idea that everythingin that neighbourhood was of necessity cheap and nasty. I haddetermined that their palates should be charmed by the dinner they wereto eat, so, in addition to sending a note to the proprietor, I thoughtit as well to arrive at the restaurant a quarter of an hour before theappointed time, in order to make assurance doubly sure that everythingwas as I desired it. Had my guests been casual acquaintances, I mustconfess that I should never have taken this trouble. But they were not.One of them was the renowned Colonel Maitland. I never heard anythingabout his war service, but I do know that as a gastronomist hisreputation is European. The cool way he will
condemn an _entree_,presented to him by an obsequious waiter, merely after casting a singleglance upon it, speaks volumes for his critical insight; and as forwines--well, he can tell the vineyard and the vintage of a claret by thescent alone. I verily believe that were he to be served with a corkedwine, the result would be instant dissolution between his gastronomicsoul and body. Naturally I had to make some preparations, in order thatsuch delicate susceptibilities should not be offended. In addition, Ihad a special reason for seeking to please him. Colonel Maitland had adaughter.

  I have only to mention the name of my other guest to reveal his identityto every one with any knowledge of the motoring world. It was FredWinter, _the_ Fred Winter, leading light of the Automobile Club, holderof more road records than I can count, in fact the most enthusiasticmotorist in the country. It was in consequence of this, indeed, that hecame to be my guest. There were few questions in regard to motoringupon which Winter was not competent to give an opinion, and being myselfa victim to the prevailing motor-mania, I was deeply indebted to him formany valuable tips. By this time I had passed my novitiate, and wasstill driving a neat little 91/2-h.p. Clement in order to fit myselffor a more powerful and speedy car.

  I arrived then at the restaurant about a quarter to eight, and havinghad a brief but satisfactory interview with the proprietor, I made myway to the table I had reserved in my favourite corner of thedining-room. Finding I had ten minutes to spare, to kill time I ordereda vermouth and the evening papers. The _Globe_ was the first upon thepile the waiter brought to me, and following the example of most sanemen, I skipped the parliamentary intelligence and turned to the "By theWay" column. I remember distinctly there was only one amusing paragraphtherein, and I was about to throw the paper aside, with the customarylament as to the decadence of British humour, when my attention wasarrested by a paragraph at the bottom of the next column. The headingwas "Strange Highway Robbery." This was the paragraph:--

  "Our Plymouth correspondent reports a novel highway robbery on the roadbetween Tavistock and Plymouth. Two gentlemen who had been for a run ontheir motor to Tavistock, left the latter town about eight o'clock lastnight. Their journey was uneventful until they reached Roborough, wherethey were suddenly overtaken by a motor-car occupied by a man, whopresented a pistol at their heads, and ordered them to stop. Thinkingthat the stranger merely intended to scare them, and that the summonswas only an ill-advised piece of pleasantry, they paid no attention tothe demand; whereupon the driver of the strange car, with awell-directed shot, so damaged the machinery of their vehicle that theywere compelled to obey. Their attacker then demanded all the money andarticles of value they had in their possession under threat ofcompletely wrecking their car, and after securing his booty thehighwayman decamped. In consequence of the damage to their motor, it wasnot until late at night that they reached Plymouth, and were enabled togive particulars of the occurrence to the police. From their descriptionof the stranger's vehicle, identification should not be difficult. It isa long, low, boat-shaped car of remarkable speed, and from the littlenoise it creates is probably driven by an electric motor. As to thepersonal appearance of the driver, the gentlemen who were robbed couldform no opinion, for he wore the usual leather coat affected bytourists, and his head was completely enveloped in a hood."

  On reading this paragraph, my first impulse was to lay aside the paperand indulge in a hearty laugh. My impression was that some wag had beenhoaxing either the Plymouth correspondent or the London editor of the_Globe_. However, my curiosity was sufficiently aroused to lead me totake up another paper, to see if the _Globe_ was the only paper whichreported the occurrence.

  The next paper on my pile was the _Star_, and the moment I unfolded thepink sheet, I perceived that this liveliest of evening journals was notgoing to be left behind by the _Globe_ in providing the public withparticulars of the latest sensation. Under the heading of "A MotorPirate," with descriptive headlines extending across a couple ofcolumns, and as attractively alliterative as the cunning pen of a smartsub-editor could make them, was the account of a similar incident. Atfirst I thought it must be the same occurrence, but a brief perusalshowed me that this impression was a wrong one. But I will give the_Star_ account in full, and I do so the more readily, not only becauseit contains the first detailed account of the man whose extraordinaryaudacity was shortly to raise the interest of the public to fever pitch,but also because it tells the story with a force and colour of which myunpractised pen is incapable. Apologising therefore to the editor forthe liberty I have taken, I reprint the _Star_ account verbatim. Ithink, however, the story deserves a new chapter.