"A MOTOR PIRATE
"TAKES TOLL OF TRAVELLERS IN THE WEST.
"A VEILED STRANGER ON A MYSTERIOUS MOTOR FLIES
"THE BLACK FLAG NEAR SALISBURY.
"ON receipt of the following extraordinary story from the Central News Agency this morning, the Star at once sent a representative to make inquiries on the spot. His inquiries reveal the existence of a new terror to all who travel by road. Following are the facts communicated to us by the agency:—
"'A daring highway robbery was committed near Salisbury late last night. The victims were two gentlemen who had been touring in the west country by motor. They had intended to reach Salisbury early yesterday evening, but were delayed by a puncture. When about eight miles from Salisbury they were attacked by the occupant of another car, who wrecked their vehicle, and, after robbing them of all their valuables, decamped, leaving them badly injured by the wayside. There they were discovered some time afterwards and removed to the nearest inn at Compton Chamberlain, where they remain under medical attendance.—Central News.'
"The Star special correspondent wires:—
"Compton Chamberlain, 12.30.
"There is no doubt but that the Motor Pirate has a real existence. On arriving at Salisbury I at once proceeded to make inquiries as to what was known of the outrage, but Salisbury generally was sceptical on the subject. I found, however, that the affair had been reported at the county police office; and I at once drove on here, and am now in a position to assert that this quiet Wiltshire village has been the scene of the most astounding robbery of modern times. It is safe to prophecy that in a few more months Dick Turpin will be forgotten. He has a rival in the field whose exploits will soon relegate him into comparative obscurity.
"The first visible evidence of the outrage was afforded me about a quarter of a mile from Compton. The road dips here slightly, and at the end of the incline a motor-car was drawn to the side of the road, or rather the remains of what had once been a smart Daimler of some 7 or 8 h.p. A stonebreaker was at work on an adjacent pile of flints, and when I alighted to examine the wreck, he nailed me with, 'Hoy, mister! Ye'd better leave thick thur car alone. The p'lice be comin' to tek un up zhortly.'
"I gathered from him that he had been told to keep an eye upon the car, but beyond having heard that the owners had met with an accident, he knew nothing. There was no doubt about the accident. The car was so broken up that it looked as if it had been in collision with an armoured train.
"Compton Chamberlain, 2.45 p.m.
"I have just succeeded in interviewing the owner of the motor-car, a Mr. James Bradshaw, of 379, Maida Vale. His companion was Mr. Gainsborough Roberts, of 200, Clapham Common. Mr. Roberts is suffering from severe concussion, and has not regained consciousness; but fortunately Mr. Bradshaw's injuries, though painful, are not dangerous, and he has been good enough to give me a full account of his unique adventure. It seems the two gentlemen had been touring in the west country for ten days, and were on their way home. They stopped the previous night at Exeter, leaving about ten in the morning with the intention of reaching Salisbury about five or six yesterday evening. They lunched at Ilminster, and afterwards had traversed another twenty-five miles of their journey when one of their tyres unfortunately punctured. This was shortly after they had passed through Wincanton. When the tyre was mended, something went wrong with the electric ignition, and altogether the repairs proved such a tedious job that they could not make a fresh start until close upon lighting-up time.
"The delay had not troubled them, for the weather was beautifully fine. As, however, they were very hungry, they determined to stop at Shaftesbury for dinner before finishing the day's run they had mapped out. There is a particularly long hill into Shaftesbury, and they did not reach that town until 8.30. At the hotel they met another party of motorists, and, agreeing to dine together, it was not until after ten that they found themselves once more on their way, with twenty miles of a hilly road to cover. The lateness of the hour did not trouble them much. They had wired to Salisbury for rooms; the night was fine and clear; a bright moon was shining; the roads were clear of traffic, and their motor was guaranteed to do its thirty-five miles an hour. They thought that it would be a good opportunity to find out what Mr. Bradshaw's car was really capable of doing on a hilly track.
"Mr. Bradshaw declares that he had never enjoyed a run more than he did on this occasion. A brisk wind was blowing behind them, they found there was more downhill than up, the road was absolutely clear, and they were able to take the declines at a pace which took the sting out of the ascents."
"So for twenty minutes they ran at full speed, and after slowing to pass through a village, they had just put on full speed again when Mr. Bradshaw's attention was arrested by a curious humming sound which appeared to arise from something behind. He was, of course, unable to glance back, as all his faculties were engaged in driving the car; but Mr. Roberts, whose attention was attracted at the same moment, informed him that another motor-car was coming up behind. Then, to quote Mr. Bradshaw's own words, 'Thinking the other chap was on for a race, I did everything I knew to get every ounce out of my motor. But,' he continued, 'though I'll swear we were running nearer forty than thirty-five, the other fellow swooped up and passed us as if we were standing still.'
"For the moment he thought that the stranger was one of those American speed motors specially built for racing on the track, but only for a moment. The strange car slackening speed, allowed them to come alongside. What followed may be best described in Mr. Bradshaw's own words.
"'There was only one occupant of the strange car, and, seeing him slacken speed, I naturally thought he wished to speak to us. So, as he came level, I shouted to him, my exact words being, if I remember aright, "Hallo, sir! You've got a flyer there." I fancied I heard a chuckle from beneath his mask (he wore a hood covering the head fitted with a mica plate in front) and he replied, "Yes; I fancy my car is fast enough to overtake anything that is to be found on the road." There was something in his tone that struck me as peculiar, but I merely attributed it to the motorist's pride in his car. As however he said nothing further, but continued to keep alongside, in a manner that looked as if he were inclined to gloat over the owner of a less speedy machine, I asked with some little irritation, "Is there anything I can do for you, because if not——" He did not allow me to finish my query. "Yes, sir," he replied promptly, "there is something I am going to ask you to do for me," and he gave another of his infernal chuckles.
"'"Well, what is it?" I demanded, with a little warmth.
"'"I must request you to hand over all your money and valuables to me," he replied.
"'I could not believe my ears. I was so astonished that I gave the wheel a turn that nearly landed us in the ditch. Will you believe it? Even in that swerve the strange car followed mine, and when I had got her straight in the road, I heard him chuckle again. His manner angered me beyond bearing.
"'"What the deuce do you mean?" I shouted.
"'"There's no need for you to lose your temper," he answered coolly. "I must, however, trouble you to stop that car at once."
"'As he spoke he raised his hand, and I saw the barrel of a revolver glisten in the moonlight. There seemed to be only one way out of the predicament, for I thought I had to deal with a madman, and I took it. I pretended to be so alarmed that I fell over the steering wheel, and made my car swerve again. But this time we swerved towards, instead of away from, the stranger. I doubt whether there was light enough for him to have read my intention in my face, but it was obvious that he anticipated my move, for his car shot forward with such wonderful speed that the fate I intended to force upon him befell myself. I saw his car disappearing ahead, and the next moment I was just conscious of a shock that sent me flying into oblivion.
"'Exactly how long I remained unconscious I do not know, but when I came to my senses I found myself lying on the grass at the roadside, having fortunately been thrown on the soft turf. Roberts was lying unconscious on the road; the car was smashed to bits; our pockets had been turned inside out, and our money, watches, and every article of value we had about us, taken. Needless to say, the stranger had disappeared.'
"Mr. Bradshaw was not in a state to be of much assistance to his more badly injured friend, and he was at a complete loss as to what course to pursue, when a trap coming from Salisbury fortunately made its appearance on the scene. Assistance was procured, and the two injured gentlemen were conveyed to Compton, and medical attention quickly provided. Though much shaken, and badly bruised, Mr. Bradshaw has sustained comparatively little injury. Mr. Roberts, however, is dangerously ill, and his relatives have been telegraphed for.
"As regards the appearance of his assailant, Mr. Bradshaw can give few particulars, save that he was clad in a large leather motoring coat, and his face completely hidden by a mask. The car can, on the contrary, be easily identified. It is boat-shaped, running to a sharp, cutting edge both in front and behind. The body is not raised more than eighteen inches from the ground. The wheels are either within the body, or so sheathed that they are completely hidden. It has apparently seating accommodation for two persons, the seat being placed immediately in the centre of the car. Mr. Bradshaw is quite convinced that petrol is not the motive force used for its propulsion, and as he cannot imagine that an electric motor of any kind was employed; the rapidity of motion, the perfection of the steering, the absence of noise and vibration, are so remarkable that he is utterly at a loss as to what build of car was driven by the stranger."
I had just finished reading this extraordinary story when I felt a tap on the shoulder, and, looking up, saw Colonel Maitland standing before me.
"'Pon my word, Sutgrove," he remarked, "I have never before seen any one so completely enthralled in a newspaper in my life. I've been standing watching you for nearly a minute."
I sprang to my feet, and held out my hand.
"What's the latest from Mr. Justice Jeune's division? When you come to my years of discretion you will be more interested in the menu."
I laughed. "It was not the inanities of the divorce court, Colonel," I remarked; "but the most astonishing——"
He checked me with uplifted hand. "Being a rational being," he said, "I prefer my stories with my cigar. One should come to dinner with a calm mind."
At this moment Winter entered the room, and, giving a signal to the waiter, the hors d'œuvre were placed before us as he seated himself at the table.
When he had greeted me I had observed that Colonel Maitland's face had worn a slightly resigned expression that reminded me of a picture I had seen somewhere of Christian martyrs being led to the stake. He took a mouthful of caviar and the cloud lifted. After the soup the dominant note of self-sacrifice had vanished entirely. With the fish his features attained repose. When we reached the entrée his face had the radiance of a translated saint's. Then, with my mind at rest as to the effect of my little dinner upon my chief guest, I found time to devote a little attention to Winter. Yet, bearing in mind the Colonel's objection to anything but light generalities during the serious business of dinner, I forbore to introduce the topic I was burning to discuss with him. Not until the coffee was upon the table, and Colonel Maitland had expressed his contentment with the dinner, did I venture to refer to it. Then, while our senior was dallying with an early strawberry, Winter gave me a lead.
"By the way, Sutgrove," he said, "what's this I saw on the evening paper bills about a motor pirate?"
I told him. His interest was awakened to such an extent that he forgot to taste the glass of port which stood before him, and which I had ordered out of compliment to the Colonel's ideas of what was desirable.
When my story was concluded Winter was silent. Colonel Maitland, however, hazarded the remark that the whole narrative was "a concoction of some of those newspaper fellows. I have been at the War Office," he said, "so I ought to know of what they are capable."
"I can scarcely imagine that any newspaper would dare hoax its readers to such an extent," remarked Winter.
"They are capable of anything—anything," replied the Colonel, vigorously. "I have known them on more than one occasion to attack even my department."
"That of course is scandalous," I replied warmly; "but here the conditions are different. They are referring to people who are able to reply if the facts are not as stated. In your case your mouth, of course, was closed."
"Umph!" growled the Colonel.
"At the same time," said Winter, "it may very well have happened that consciously or unconsciously the papers have been made the victims of a practical joke. To-morrow is the first of April, remember. Or even apart from the joke theory, the event happened after dinner, and Mr. Bradshaw may have found it necessary to be prepared with an explanation of his accident."
"But the robbery?" I objected.
"A passing tramp may have thought the opportunity too good to be neglected."
"At all events," I persisted, "it is curious that two similar accidents should have occurred the same night in the same part of the country."
"Certainly the coincidence is remarkable," answered Winter. "But do not forget that the two occurrences took place at least a hundred and thirty miles apart within less than three hours of one another. I will swear that no motor yet built would cover those roads inside three hours. I know them. No, Sutgrove. The moral seems to me to be that it is unwise for a motorman to look upon the wine when it is red, if he wants to get anywhere afterwards."
The Colonel stretched his hand across the table and removed the glass which stood on the table before Winter.
"My young friend," he observed, "you have, I believe, undertaken to bring me safely home to-night?"
"You need not fear," replied Winter, laughing, "it's only the liquors supplied at country inns which drive motor-cars into ditches."
The Colonel replaced the glass with a smile and refilled his own from the cradled bottle at his elbow.
"I am merely a passenger, but you drive," he remarked. "I think, Sutgrove, under the circumstances, I will be responsible for the remainder of this bottle. It is endowed with certain qualities which particularly recommend themselves to me. It would be a sad thing if an accident were to befall us on our journey. In times of stress such as these one never knows when the War Office may not require the services of a capable man."
Though the Colonel spoke in jest, in the event his words indicated with a fair amount of accuracy the destination of the port, for while we continued to discuss every point in the story, he sipped and sipped and nodded his head beatifically. I did not replenish my glass, but when we rose the bottle was empty.
"Well, Colonel, what do you say to a music hall?" I asked.
"My boy," he replied, as he patted me on the back, "I sleep far more comfortably in my bed."
I realized where the contents of the bottle had gone by the sententiousness of my friend's phrasing, the slight turgidity, so to speak, of his articulation.
"My dear boy," he continued, "I have never known you until this moment. You are greater than Columbus. Any one might discover a new continent, but in these days it needs exceptional qualities of enterprise and endurance to discover a fresh restaurant. I am content. Let us go home."
We donned our overcoats and came into the open air. Winter's motor was waiting at the door in charge of a man from the garage where he had left it. We stepped in.