“STRATOSPHERE EXPRESS”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 12 April 1940, Page 10

“STRATOSPHERE EXPRESS”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

BY

ALROY WEST.

(Author of “Messengers of Death,” etc.)

CHAPTER XXII. (Continued). “There’s never any telling,' Bessiter said quietly. The big indicator set in the side of the cabin showed that they were still climbing. “I wonder when we reach the stratosphere. Does one know or does one have to guess?” Storm asked. “We'll soon oe there. We've just passed through the last lot of clouds. That will be a height of roughly six miles. Two or three miles and we shall be in the region of the absolute ceiling for aeroplanes.” “The climb isn't fast,” Storm said. “I’m not running undue risks. My aim is to get there, so I’m using a low power cylinder, as I told you. Later on we can experiment with quick ascents.”

After a time Bessiter went forwarc to the navigation cabin. Manda crossed to one of these windows. “There are strange things,” she said "There seem to be two lots of glass, with a big space between them.” “Yes, I noticed that in the front of the machine. It's a sort of double shell principle throughout.” Bessiter opened the door and called to them. “Come along!” They joined him in the navigation cabin and went over to the windows. “Twenty miles up!" Bessiter said. “Twenty-two now,” said Mackley. “Straighten her out. We can try for speed now.” “Very good.” Mackley pulled down a switch. Larkin’s face was flashed on to the screen of the television box. “Use another cylinder, we're straightening out,” said Mackley. “Normal cylinder. In four seconds.” “Four. Fire away.” The televisor panel became dark. Storm started to count slowly. One, two, three. The machine gave a slight lurch. He looked out of the window. Space everywhere. It was more than space, it was an awe-inspiring desolation, with only the sun to persuade one that it was natural. There was no sign of the earth down below, because it was completely blanketed in cloud. Great masses of cottonwool, or so it seemed, except that there were a hundred lights and shades. One might liken it to a gigantic realm of snow, with lofty peaks and valleys in purple shadow. He had never known the sun to shine so brightly or out of so rich a sky. Looking up was almost impossible. There was that lush purple and the blaze of the sun in its prime. “What do you think of it?” Bessiter asked. “It almost frightens one," said Manda. “It’s so lonely. There isn't a living thing. Not even a bird." Bessiter chuckled. “We left those behind us long ago.” He turned to Mackley. “What speed?” he asked. “Two fifty,” was the prompt reply. Bessiter turned back to Storm. “Two hundred and fifty miles an hour through space. We can go faster, you know. But this will be good enough for the moment. We can speed later.” "How do you go faster?” “You can regulate the cylinders.” "It’s a wonder they don't explode.” said Storm. Bessiter shook his head.

“They’re specially designed.” he said. “But I’m not giving away the details. That's Larkin's secret. I’m using it — but I haven’t the ownernship.” They returned to the more comfortable cabin, Bessiter closing the door behind them. “You seem thoughtful," Manda stated. He nodded. “I’m wondering about making another climb. We have a number of recording instruments aboard, so that we shall have the most valuable information by the time we've finished. Only I could do with some figures dealing with a high level say fifty miles up.” Storm whistled. “The men may kick. It. sounds dangerous.” “Let them kick: I'm running this.” Bessiter swung round, and hurried to the navigation cabin. He was back in a minute or so. “I've told them!" he cried, as he closed the communicating door. "What did they say?" “Nothing. Croft didn't look pleased, he seemed about to say something, but thought better of it. Then he smiled. So I don’t know what he was thinking about.” Manda suddenly gave a little scream. “What's wrong?" snapped Bessiter. "That door moved!” She pointed to the door of one of the small compartments which led oil from the cabin. Bessiter took a step forward. “The parachutes are there. Is somebody trying to overhear what I’m . ." But before he could finish the door was flung open. A man walked into the cabin. A dark-haired, lanternjawed man whose lips were twisted into a smile. One arm was in a sling. “Fargus!" Bessiter snapped. “Yes.” “What are you doing here'.'" “Reckon I didn't feel like being left behind. I'd set my heart on this trip. I wasn't going to be done out of it.” Bessiter scowled. “You weren't going to be done out of it! What about us? Do you think we want you? Do you think I’ve any use for you” What good are you--with a broken arm?” “Not long back I heard you say that stout hearts were better than sound

arms, or something like that," Storm cut in. Bessiter swung round on him. “You keep out of this! There's one thing better than arms and hearts — that’s a good, clear head. You'd better develop one!" “What are you going to do with me?” Fargus challenged. “I’ve a good mind to chuck you out,” Bessiter growled. "You’re a stowaway! That’s what you are. I could put you in irons! I could have you sent to prison!” Fargus nodded. “I expect you could do all that,” he said calmly. “How did you manage to get aboard?” “Watched my chance late last night and slipped in here.” “Had any food?” “No.” “You half-witted idiot! You’re a sick man as it is—and then you go without food. Do you want me to have an invalid on my hands?” “A stowaway," Fargus reminded him. "Stowaway be damned! Don't talk rubbish! Go and get some food into you. I suppose we can make use of you." Fargus smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “Don’t start thanking me. I am not a benevolent institution!” Before Fargus could make any reply there came the sharp crack of a revol-

ver from the navigation cabin. “What's that?” cried Storm. CHAPTER XXIII. Bessiter swung round and hurried towards the door which divided the forward cabin from the navigating one, but before he could reach it, it was flung open and Croft appeared. There was a revolver in his hand. “No you don’t!” he snarled. Bessiter moved slightly, so that it seemed he was about to hurl himself at the man. “I’m pointing this right at the girl," Croft declared. “So she’ll be the one to suffer.” Bessiter lowered his hands. “What’s the big notion?” he snapped. “Gone loco?” Croft stepped into the cabin with a jaunty air of assurance. “I haven’t gone loco.” he said slowly. “It’s just tha't we’ve been a shade too smart for you.”

Storm, glancing sideways, realised that Fargus had gone—evidently he had slipped out of sight. That might mean something hopeful, although Fargus was seriously handicapped because of his arm. “Who’s been too smart for me?” Bessiter growled. “Just Mr Lovac and me," announced Croft. He was a surly-looking man, with a very low forehead and a mass of jet black hair. His brows were perfectly straight and his dark eyes deep-set. At the moment he looked less prepossessing than ever. “And what is supposed to happen to us?” Bessiter asked, keeping himself under control with difficulty. Croft shrugged his shoulders. “That’s hardly my affair. I'm in charge of this plane from now on — and my orders are going to be obeyed. I’ve had my instructions, and I’m carrying them out.” “Was Mackley in on this?” Storm demanded suddenly. Croft shrugged his shoulders. “I ask all the questions here," he said gruffly. Bessiter started to laugh. Croft glanced at him suspiciously, and for half a second the revolver’ was deflected. Storm and Bessiter moved simultaneously, the former in front of Manda and the latter straight at Croft. The weapon went off, and a split ap-1 pchred down the panelling of a door leading into a small compartment reserved for food supplies. Then Bessiter was on his man, knocking him down and dropping on top of him. But disaster came quickly.

One of the other men came to the doorway, and at the same time there was a rush from the passage which divided the two main cabins. Storm swung round to meet this menace, struck out at one of the men, but was flung to the ground by another. He tried to scamble to his feet, enraged at the sight of Manda struggling in the arms of one of the crew, but something crashed down on his head, and he flopped back again. The next thing he realised was that he had a splitting headache and that it was difficult to move his limbs. He opened his eyes and then groaned. “Are you all right?” Manda asked anxiously. Storm made a gallant effort to shake off a swimmy feeling. He opened his eyes again. “I don't feel too good.” he said slowly. Thon he frowned. “What happened?" he asked. He realised that they were in the rear cabin, which was the smaller of the two. He was lying on the floor with arms and legs bound. Over the other side was the slight figure of Larkin, similarly secured. At his side was Manda. the blouse she had been wearing under her leather jacket ripped down the front and the jacket minus a few buttons. She was tieil up in a similar manner. Bessiter, also secured, had struggled into a sitting position. There was a trickle of blood down the side of his face. Monk, who had been in the radio cabin, was lying senseless, although he was also roped. “Think I'm beaten, eh?" snapped Bessiter. Storm managed to force a smile. "Down and out!” he declared. (To be' Continued).