Part 12 (1/2)

Luckily he was an old bombing instructor and knew what to do. A moment later the fuse was cut and the bomb's detonator removed. It was harmless now. Half a minute later it would have exploded.

Watching keenly from his roof d.i.c.k Manton had seen Barakoff's aeroplane rise swiftly and silently into the air. He had some slight trouble in starting the Mohawk, and the Russian was a mile away before the Englishman had started in pursuit.

Crouched in the driving seat of the Mohawk, d.i.c.k kept his eyes glued on the machine in front. He soon realised, to his dismay, that the Russian machine was much the faster and was leaving him behind. By the time they had gone ten miles and were out over the open country, he could only just discern the fugitive as a mere speck in the distance, and he realised with a sinking heart that a fleck of mist would enable Barakoff to escape.

Suddenly he discovered that the Russian machine had descended very low.

A moment later it appeared to rise vertically, going up to a great height.

Instantly d.i.c.k followed and to his surprise found himself gaining rapidly. Then the Russian seemed to slip ahead again.

Several times this was repeated, and d.i.c.k at length divined the reason.

The Russian could not run his elevating and driving propellers simultaneously. He travelled in a series of swoops, coming down very slowly as the machine drove forward, and then being compelled to stop the driving propellers while he gained the necessary height to continue his flight. No doubt this was explained by the fact that the planes were too small to keep the machine up without the elevating propellers.

d.i.c.k saw that he held a big advantage. The Mohawk, though slightly slower, could rise and go forward at the same time under the influence of both propellers.

As they sped over Kent, d.i.c.k began to realise with joy that he was gaining. Slowly the poison-fiend began to come back to him.

Then came the critical moment. Five hundred yards ahead and a thousand feet below, Barakoff, close to the ground, must rise soon to gain the elevation he required.

That was the moment for which d.i.c.k had been waiting. He called on his machine for the last ounce of effort he had been holding in reserve.

The Mohawk shot forward. A few seconds later d.i.c.k was directly above the Russian. So far as air tactics went he had won; the Russian was entirely at his mercy.

Then began surely the strangest aerial combat ever witnessed. To and fro the machines dodged, Barakoff striving to gain height and succeeding for a moment only to find his pursuer above him again and bullets whining round him; d.i.c.k striving to force the Russian down to the ground where he must either land or crash. For fully half an hour the machines flitted backwards and forwards around the town of Ashford. d.i.c.k had no fear of the result; his only risk was whether he could send Barakoff down before dusk came. Unless he could do this there was every danger that the Russian would escape under cover of darkness.

At last the end came.

d.i.c.k had forced his antagonist so low that, as a last desperate resort, Barakoff had to leap upward to clear a big group of elms. He miscalculated by a few feet, his machine touched the upper branches and went smas.h.i.+ng to earth. Three minutes later d.i.c.k was standing beside the body of the death-dealer.

Barakoff's machine was a complete wreck and was blazing furiously. The man himself had been flung clear and lay in a crumpled heap, stone dead.

There is little more to tell.

The formula for the powder with which the bomb was charged was found in Barakoff's laboratory, and with it, in Russian, a prescription which, on being tested, proved to be a complete cure for the disease. It was found just in time to save those who would otherwise have been the victims of the explosion at Finsbury Park.

It was evident that Barakoff must have maintained his laboratory in Soho for months. Obviously the manager of the shop was one of his accomplices, and apparently he had recognised Yvette and deliberately thrown her into Barakoff's hands. Then realising that discovery was inevitable he had slipped out of the building, probably by a window as neither of the a.s.sistants had noticed him leave. He was never found.

The a.s.sistants themselves proved to be respectable young fellows who had been employed only a few weeks and who clearly knew nothing of the nefarious conspiracy.

Nothing but the Mohawk had prevented Barakoff's escape! And d.i.c.k Manton received later on the official thanks of the British Government for his daring exploit.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE MASTER ATOM.

”Oh! la la! How horribly dull life is! I do wish something really startling would happen, d.i.c.k!”

The words were spoken in pretty broken English by Yvette Pasquet, who, charming and _chic_, as usual, was sitting with Jules and d.i.c.k Manton.

The adventurous trio were dining _al fresco_ in the leafy garden of the old-world ”Hotel de France” on the river bank at Montigny, that delightful spot on the outskirts of the great Forest of Fontainebleau, a spot beloved by all the artists and _litterateurs_ of Paris.