Part 17 (1/2)
”Isn't it wonderful!”
”Marvellous!” Nigel replied. ”It's the largest aeronautic station in the world--bigger, they say, than all our railway termini put together. Look at the flares, Maggie! No wonder the sky from the housetop at Belgrave Square seems always to be on fire at night!”
They were approaching now the first of the huge sheds which were arranged in circular fas.h.i.+on around an immense stretch of perfectly level asphalted ground. Every shed was as big as an ordinary railway station, its arched opening framed with electric illuminations. Inside could be seen the crowds of people waiting on the platforms; in many of them, the engine of a great airs.h.i.+p was already throbbing, waiting to start. In the background was a huge wireless installation, and around, at regular intervals, enormous pillars, on the top of which flares of different-coloured fire were burning. The automobile came to a standstill before a large electrically illuminated time chart. Nigel alighted for a moment and spoke to one of the inspectors.
”Which station for the _Black Dragon_, private s.h.i.+p from China?” he enquired.
The man glanced at the chart.
”Number seven, on the other side,” he replied. ”You can drive around.”
”How is she for time?”
”She crossed the North Sea punctually,” he replied. ”We should see her violet lights in ten minutes. Mind the traffic as you pa.s.s number three.
The North s.h.i.+p from Norway is just in.”
Nigel addressed a word of caution to the chauffeur, and they drove on.
From the first shed they pa.s.sed a stream of vehicles was pouring out,--porters with luggage, jostling throngs of newly arrived pa.s.sengers on their way to the Electric Underground. They drove into number seven shed, left the car, and walked to the end of the long platform. The great arc of gla.s.s-covered roof above them was brilliantly illuminated, throwing a queer downward light upon the long line of waiting porters, the refreshment rooms, the kiosks and newspaper stalls. In the far end, a huge airs.h.i.+p, bound for the East, was already filling up. Maggie and her companion stood for a few minutes gazing into the huge void of s.p.a.ce.
”Tell me about Naida,” the former begged, a little abruptly.
”Naida is a wonderful woman,” Nigel declared enthusiastically. ”We lunched at Ciro's. She wore a black and white muslin gown which arrived this morning from Paris. Afterwards we went down to Ranelagh and sat under the trees.”
”Throwing yourself thoroughly into your little job, aren't you!” Maggie sniffed.
”You'll have a chance to catch me up before long,” he replied. ”Naida has promised that she will arrange a meeting with the Prince.”
”I wonder what Oscar Immelan will have to say about it,” Maggie reflected.
”To tell you the truth,” Nigel said hopefully, ”I believe that Immelan is losing ground. His whole scheme is too selfish. Of course, Naida won't discuss these things with me in plain words, but she gives me a hint now and then. Amongst her gifts, she has a marvellous sense of justice and a hatred of any form of bribery. That is where I feel convinced that she and Immelan will never come together. Immelan could never see more than the selfish side, even of a world upheaval. Naida searches everywhere for motive. She has the altruistic instinct. I wonder no longer at Matinsky. She is a born ruler herself.”
”I'm glad you are getting along with her,” Maggie remarked. ”Look!” she broke off, catching at his arm. ”The violet lights!”
High up in the sky outside, two violet specks of light suddenly rose and fell like airb.a.l.l.s. A crowd of mechanics appeared through subterranean doors and stood about in the vast arena. Very soon the airs.h.i.+p came into sight, her cars brilliantly illuminated. She circled slowly round and came noiselessly to the ground, and with the mechanics running by her side, and her engines now scarcely audible, came slowly into the shed and to a standstill by the side of the platform. Maggie and her companion stood well in the background.
”There he is,” the latter whispered.
Immelan, suddenly appeared as though from the bowels of the earth, was shaking hands warmly with a tall, slender man who was one of the first to descend from the airs.h.i.+p. They talked rapidly together for a few minutes. Then they disappeared, walking down towards the luggage-clearing station. Maggie watched the retreating figures earnestly.
”He doesn't look in the least Chinese,” she declared.
”I told you he didn't,” Nigel replied. ”He was considered the best-looking man of his year up at Oxford.”
Maggie was unusually silent on their way back.
”It was perhaps scarcely worth our while, this little expedition of ours,” Maggie said thoughtfully.