The Outlaws of the Air

The Outlaws of the Air
By George Griffith
AUTHOR OF "THE ANGEL OF THE REVOLUTION'S "OLGA ROMANOFF; OR, THE SYREN OF THE SKIES" ETC. ETC.
1895
CONTENTS.
PROLOGUE. IN THE CAMP OF ISHMAEL
I. UTOPIA IN THE SOUTH
II. GOING INTO PORT
III. OLD FRIENDS AND NEW
IV. THE STORY OF THE RED PIRATE
V. ANARCHY AFTER DINNER
VI. A VISION IN THE SKY
VII. A PICNIC ON MOUNT PLATO
VIII. A DOUBLE TRAGEDY
IX. A SOLILOQUY IN MID-AIR
X. ON THE SCENE OF ACTION
XI. THE "DESTROYER" AT WORK
XII. ANARCHY UP TO DATE
XIII. TO UTOPIA
XIV. HOMEWARD BOUND
XV. NEWS OF WAR
XVI. THE "NAUTILUS" GOES INTO ACTION
XVII. A VISIT TO PARIS
XVIII. TRAPPED
XIX. A SCENE AT BOW STREET
XX. SENTENCE OF DEATH
XXI. A CALM BEFORE A STORM
XXII. AT THE LAST MOMENT
XXIII. REVENGE
XXIV. A REIGN OF TERROR
XXV. THE "WAR-HAWK'S" FIRST FLIGHT
XXVI. A FLYING FIGHT
XXVII. AN ESCAPE AND A CAPTURE
XXVIII. PRISONERS OF WAR
XXIX. MAX TO THE RESCUE
XXX. THE BATTLE OF THE SOUND
XXXI. THE VICTORS VANQUISHED
XXXII. THE OUTLAWS' EYRIE
XXXIII. NEWS AND BAD NEWS
XXXIV. VENDETTA
XXXV. TURNING THE TABLES
XXXVI. THE END OF THE "BREMEN"
XXXVII. PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT
XXXVIII. MUTINY
XXXIX. HARTOG'S REVENGE
XL. GAME TO THE LAST
XLI. THE SYNDICATE PREPARES TO ACT
XLII. WOLVES AT BAY
XLIII. THE ULTIMATUM
EPILOGUE. THE NEW UTOPIA

PROLOGUE.
IN THE CAMP OF ISHMAEL.
A FEW minutes before one A.M. on Sunday, the 1st of July 1894, a man was walking with quick if somewhat irregular strides, as some men do walk when deeply absorbed in thought, up the Caledonian Road from King's Cross Station. By his dress he might either have belonged to the aristocracy of the craftsman class, or he might have been one of the poorer members of that class which is popularly considered to be above it.
But, whatever doubt there might have been as to his station in life, there could have been none as to the character of the face on which his slightly back-tilted black felt hat allowed the light of the gas-lamps to fall, as he walked with his thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, and his head thrown back just a shade from the perpendicular. It was a dark, clear-cut, clean-shaven face, with bright blue eyes, contrasting strongly with the black straight brows above them; a slightly aquiline nose, with thin, sensitive nostrils; short upper lip, firm, resolute mouth, square chin, and strong though not heavy lower jaw.
A single glance would have been enough to show that it was the face of a man in whom strong convictions were united with the will and the courage to translate them into action, no matter what difficulties or dangers might lie in the path marked out for him by what he considered to be his duty.
In stature, he was over the average, and but for a slight stoop of the shoulders which gave a suggestion of the student, borne out by the broad, square forehead and two little perpendicular lines between the eyes, he would have stood very nearly six feet in the low-heeled walking shoes which he wore.
To the casual glance of the passer-by, there was nothing to differentiate him from any other young fellow of his apparent age and station; and, therefore, it was quite out of the question that the policeman who was beginning his night's work by flashing his bull's-eye into the doorways, and trying door handles and shop shutters, should bestow more than a passing glance, quite devoid of interest, upon him as he strode by. He was sober and respectable, and seemingly making his way quietly home after a decently spent Saturday evening.
There was nothing to tell the guardian of the peace that the most dangerous man in Europe was passing within a few feet of him, or that if only he could have arrested him on some valid pretext that would have enabled him to lock him up for the rest of the night, and then handed him over to the Criminal Investigation Department at New Scotland Yard, - the officers of which had been hunting for just such a man as he for the last twelve months, he would have prevented the commission of a crime which, within twenty-four hours, was to plunge a whole nation into panic and mourning, and send a thrill of horror through Europe.
But he would have done far more than this, for by laying Max Renault, electrician and anarchist, by the heels just that moment, he would have ensured the discovery of documentary evidence which would have procured his extradition to France, and subsequent proceedings which would have saved the world from a reign of terror and an epoch of carnage and destruction in comparison with which the worst that society had so far learned to fear from anarchy would prove to be the merest trifle.
But how was that most unimaginative and matter-of-fact of mortals, a British policeman, to know that in his waistcoat pocket he carried a foreign telegram, which, properly interpreted, conveyed the intelligence that Caserio Santo was