The Flying Death Read online

  Produced by David Widger

  THE FLYING DEATH

  By Samuel Hopkins Adams

  Copyright, 1905, by Samuel Hopkins Adams

  To

  Schuyler C. Brandt in token of a friendship which, begun at old Hamilton, has endured and strengthened, as only college friendships can, for an unbroken twenty years, this book is dedicated.

  CHAPTER ONE--THE INSOMNIAC

  STANLEY RICHARD COLTON, M. D., heaved his powerful form to and fro inhis bed and cursed the day he had come to Montant Point, which chancedto be the day just ended. All the world had been open to him, and hisfather's yacht to bear him to whatsoever corner thereof he might elect,in search of that which, once forfeited, no mere millions may buy back,the knack of peaceful sleep. But his wise old family physician hadprescribed the tip-end of Long Island. "Go down there to that suburbanwilderness, Dick," he had said, "and devote yourself to filling yourlungs with the narcotic ocean air. Practise feeding, breathing andloafing, and forget that you've ever practised medicine."

  Too much medicine was what ailed Dick Colton. Not that he had beentaking it. On the contrary he had been administering it to others. Amidthe unbounded amazement of his friends, who couldn't see why the heirof the great Colton interests should want to devote his energiesotherwhere, he had insisted on graduating from medical school, and, witha fashionable practice fairly yearning for him, had entered upon thegrimy and malodorous duties of a dispensary among the tenement-folk.There, because the chances of birth had given him a good intelligencewhich his own efforts had kept brightened and sharpened, becauseProvidence had equipped him with a comely and powerful body, which hisown manner of life had kept attuned to strength and vigour, and becauseHeaven had blessed him with the heart and the face of a boy, whereofhis own fineness and enthusiasm had kept the one untainted and the otherdefiant of care and lines, he had become a power in the slums. It wasonly by eternal vigilance that he had kept himself from being elected analderman from one of the worst districts in New York.

  There came a week of terrible heat when the tenements vented forth theirhalf-naked sufferers nightly upon the smoking asphalt, and the Angel ofDeath smote his daily hundreds with a sword of flame. Dick Colton foughtfor the lives of his people, and was already at the limit of endurancewhen Fate, employing as its dismayed instrument a contractor withliberal views on the subject of dynamite, reduced the dispensary outfitin one fell shock to a mass of shattered glass and a mephitic compoundof tinctures, extracts and powders. Only one thing was to be done,and the young physician did it. He stocked up again, attending to alldetails himself, using his own money and his own energy freely, andproving to his own satisfaction that strong coffee and wet towels aboutthe head would enable a man to live and toil on four hours' sleep anight.

  When, at length, a two days' rain had drenched the fevered city tocoolness, Dick Colton drew a deep breath and said: "Now I'll go to sleepand sleep for a week."

  But the drugs which for so many weary days had filled his entireattention declined now to be evicted from his thoughts. Disposingthemselves in neatly labelled bottles, all of a size, they marched inmonotonous and nauseating files before his closed eyes, each individualof the passing show introducing itself by some outrageous and incredibletitle utterly unknown to the art and practice of pharmacy. To think uponsheep jumping in undulatory procession over a stone wall, so the wisdomof our forebears tell us, is to invite slumber. To contemplate misnamedmedicine bottles interminably hurdling the bridge of one's nose,operates otherwise. From the family doctor Colton had carried his visionto Montauk Point with him.

  Now, on this cool September midnight he rose, struck a light, and foundhimself facing two neat, little, beribboned perfume jars, representingthe decorative ideas of little Mrs. Johnston, the hostess of ThirdHouse. It was too much. Resentment at this shabby practical joke of Faterose in his soul. Seizing the pair of bottles, he hurled them mightily,one after the other, into outer darkness. The crash of the second uponthe stone wall surrounding the little hotel was rather startlinglyfollowed by an exclamation.

  "I beg your pardon," cried Colton, rather abashed. "Hope I didn't hityou."

  "You did not--with the second missile," said the voice dryly.

  "It was very stupid of me. The fact is," Colton continued, groping foran excuse, "I heard some kind of a noise outside and I thought it was acat."

  "Where did you hear it?" interrupted the voice rather sharply. "Did itseem to be on the ground, or in mid-air?"

  Colton's frazzled nerves jumped all together, and in differentdirections. "Have I been sent to a private lunatic asylum?" he inquiredof himself.

  "Lest my manner of inquiry may seem strange to you," continued thevoice, "I may state that I am Professor Ravenden, formerly connectedwith the National Museum at Washington, D. C., and that your remarkas to an unrecognised noise may have an important bearing upon certainphenomena in which I am scientifically interested."

  Dick Colton groaned in spirit. "Here I've told a polite and innocentlie to this mysterious pedant," he said to himself, "and of course Iget caught at it." He leaned out of the window, when a broad, spreadingflare of lightning from the south showed, on the lawn beneath him,the figure of a slight, compactly built man of fifty-odd, dressed withrigorous neatness in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, and carrying abroken lantern and a butterfly net. His thin, prim and tanned face wasas indicative of character as his precise and meticulous mode of speech.

  "Did I break your lantern?" asked the young doctor contritely.

  "As I do not carry my lantern in the small of my back, you did not,sir," returned the professor with an asperity which reminded Coltonthat he had put considerable muscle into his throw. "A loose rock whichturned under my foot upset me," he continued, "and the glass of mylantern was broken in the fall. The rising gale prevented my relightingit. Your opportune light, I may add, alone enabled me to locate thehouse."

  "Perhaps my unintended rudeness may be pardoned because of myinvoluntary service, then," said Colton, with the courtesy which wasnatural to him.

  There was a moment's pause. Then, "If I may venture to impose upon yourkindness," said the man on the lawn, "will you put on some clothesand join me here? It is a matter of considerable possibleimportance--scientifically."

  "Anything to avoid monotony," said the other, rather grimly. "I'm herefor excitement, apparently."

  Worming his way into a sweater, trousers and shoes, he went downstairsand joined his new acquaintance on the veranda.

  "My name is Colton, Dr. Stanley Colton," he said. "What is it you wantme for?"

  "I wish the testimony of your younger eyes and ears," said the other."Would you object to a walk of a third of a mile?"

  "Not at all," returned the other, becoming interested. "Shall I see if Ican rustle up a lantern?"

  "No," said the professor thoughtfully. "I think it would be better not.Yes; decidedly we are better without a light. Come."

  He led the way, swiftly and sure-footedly, though it was pitch-darkexcept when the lightning lent its swift radiance.

  "I was out in search of a rare species of Catocala--a moth of thislocality--when I heard the--the curious sound to which I hope to callyour attention," he paused to explain.

  He hurried on in silence, Colton following in puzzled expectation. Atthe top of a mound they stopped, and were almost swept off their feetby a furious gust of wind which died down, only to be succeeded by asecond, hardly less violent. In a glare of lightning that spread acrossthe south, Colton saw the fretted waters of a little lake below them.

  "We're going to get that storm, I think," he said.

  No reply came from his companion. In silence they stood, for perhapsten or fifteen minutes. Then the wind droppe
d temporarily. Colton waswondering whether courtesy to the peculiar individual who had haled himforth on this errand of darkness was going to cost him a wetting, whenthe wind dropped and the night fell silent.

  "There! Did you hear it?" the professor exclaimed suddenly.

  Colton had heard, and now he heard again, a strange sound, from overheadand seeming to come from a considerable distance; faintly harsh, andstrident, with a metallic sonance.

  "Almost overhead and to the west, was it not?" pursued the other. "Watchthere for the lightning flash."

  The lightning came, in one of those broad, sheetlike flickers that seemto irradiate the world for countable seconds. Professor Ravenden's armshot out.

  "Did you see?" he cried.

  Darkness fell as the query was completed. "I saw nothing," repliedColton. "Did you? What did you see?"

  A clap of wind blew away the reply, if there was any. This time the windrose steadily. They waited another quarter of an hour, the gale blowingwithout pause.

  "This is profitless," said Professor Eavenden, at length. "We had bestgo home."

  Thankful for the respite, the younger man rose from the littledepression where he had crouched for shelter from the wind. With athrill of surprised delight, he realised that he was healthily sleepy.The quick, hard walk, the unwonted exercise, and the soft, freshsweetness of the air, had produced an anodyne effect. But was the air sosweet? Colton turned and sniffed up wind.

  "Do you smell anything peculiar?" he asked his companion.

  "Unfortunately I am troubled with a catarrh which deadens my sense ofsmell," replied the scientist.

  "There's a peculiar reek in the air. I caught it with that last shift ofwind. It's like something I've come across before. There!"

  "Can you not describe it?"

  "Why, it's--it's a sickish, acid sort of odour," said Colton hesitantly."Where have I---- Oh, well, it's probably a dead animal up to windward."

  As they reached the house, he turned to the other.

  "What was it you thought you saw?" he asked bluntly. "What are youlooking for?"

  "I am not satisfied that I saw anything," answered Professor Ravendenevasively. "Imagination is a powerful factor, when the eye mustaccomplish its search in the instantaneous revelation of a lightningflash. As for what I am seeking, you heard as much as I. I thank you foryour help, and, if you will pardon me, I will bid you good-night here,as I wish to make a few notes before retiring."

  Leaving the professor busied by candle light at the desk in the mainroom, Dick Colton cautiously tiptoed up the stairs. At the top hestopped dead. From an open door at the end of the hall issued a shaftof light. In the soft glow stood a girl. Her face was toward Colton. Hereyes met his, but un-seeingly, for he was in the shadow, and her visionwas dazzled by the light she had just made. Her face was softly flushedwith sleep and her dark eyes were liquid under the heavy lids. She wasdressed in some filmy, fluffy garment, the like of which Colton did notknow existed. Nor had he realised that such creatures as this girl whohad so suddenly stepped into his world, existed. He held his breath lestthe sweetest, softest, most radiant vision that had ever met his eyes,should vanish. The Vision pushed a mass of heavy black hair back fromits forehead, and spoke.

  "Father," it said.

  "Father," she said again. Then with a note of petulance in the soft,rippling voice. "Oh, Dad, you're not going out again."

  "I beg your pardon," said Colton in a husky voice that belonged tosomeone whom he didn't know. "Your father is downstairs. I'll call him."But the Vision had flashed out of his range. The light was shut out, andall that remained to him was the echo of a soft, dismayed, frightenedlittle exclamation.

  Having delivered the message to Professor Ravenden, and receivedhis absent-minded, "In a minute," the insomniac returned to hisroom. Strangely enough, it was while he was striving to fix on thephotographic lens of his brain every light and shadow of that radiantgirl-figure, that the solution of the strange noise came, unsought, tohim. He went to the foot of the stairs to tell the professor, who wasstill writing.

  "I think I know what the sound was that we heard, Professor Ravenden,"he said. "It was very like the rubbing of one wire on another."

  "Very like," agreed the professor.

  "Probably a telegraph or telephone wire, broken and grating in the gale,against the others."

  The professor continued to write.

  "Good-night," said Colton.

  "Good-night, Dr. Colton," said the scientist quietly, "and thank youagain. By the way, there is no wire of any kind within half a mile ofwhere we stood."

  Two problems Dick Colton took with him as exorcisers of the processionalmedicine bottles, when he threw himself on his bed and closed his eye.It was not the sound in the darkness, however, but the face in the lightthat prevailed as he dropped to sleep.