CHAPTER XVII
SEEKING THE GUN
Tom and Jack gazed blankly at one another. The same thought was in theminds of both.
"The spy!"
"That's who did it," declared Tom. "He forged our names to a note--nohard task since neither Bessie nor her mother knows our writing verywell--and he's induced them to go some place where he could get them inhis power again."
"But why?" asked Jack.
"Probably because Potzfeldt wanted him to do it. He still has his eye onMrs. Gleason's property, I presume, if there is any left after hisrobbery."
"It certainly is tough to think that Bessie and her mother have againfallen into his clutches!" exclaimed Jack. "And we can't do a thing torescue them. We've got to report with the others in the morning at thenew aerodrome."
"Yes, but we still have to-night free!" cried Tom. "It will give usseveral hours to make a search, and we'll do it! Do you know where Mrs.Gleason and Bessie went in response to this forged note?" he asked thelandlady.
She mentioned a certain restaurant, not far away, where Tom and his chumhad frequently eaten with Mrs. Gleason and her daughter.
"She was rather surprised to get the note from you," said the landlady,"and wondered why you didn't come yourself. But she supposed it hadsomething to do either with your search for your father or with warmatters, so she did not question the messenger. I heard her mention theplace where she and Bessie were going, or I would not know."
"How long ago was it?" asked Jack.
"Oh, just before luncheon time. And they haven't come back."
"The scoundrels have a long start of us!" exclaimed Jack. "We'll have todo the best we can."
"Better notify the police at once," suggested Tom. "We'll need theirhelp."
"That's right," agreed his chum.
Their uniform was an open sesame to the police officials, and adetective was at once detailed to go with the boys to the restaurant.There, as might have been expected, there was no news. The spy, orwhoever Potzfeldt's agent was, had been too clever for that. All thatcould be learned from a taxicab driver was that a lady and a girl,answering the descriptions of Bessie and her mother, had been met infront of the restaurant by a man.
The three, after a short talk, had driven off together in an automobile,and that was the last seen of them.
"But we'll get some trace," declared the detective. "It is hard to getin or out of Paris now without proper papers. And while, of course, thisspy may have forged documents, there is a chance that we may intercepthim and help your friends. Time is against us, but we will do our best."
Tom and Jack knew that. There was nothing else to do, and so, worried asthey were, they went back to their comrades. Tom made some inquiriesabout his father, but, as he feared, no news had come.
As may be imagined Tom and Jack did not pass a very restful night. TheZeppelin raid had set their nerves on edge, as well as those of everyone else, and it could not be told when the big gun might begin firingagain. Then the fact of Mrs. Gleason and Bessie being missing, and notknowing in what danger they might be, added to the boys' anxiety.
They paid a late visit to the police, hoping for news, but the spy hadnot been apprehended. Then they hurried back to get a little restbefore starting with their comrades of the air to search for the monstergun.
While these events were transpiring, the French army intelligencedepartment had not been idle. The officials knew how vitally necessaryit was, in order not to have the morale of the people of Paris weakened,to do something to find and silence the big guns. And first it wasnecessary to discover them.
While this, as yet, had not been done with exactness, owing to theconcealing tactics of the Germans, it was believed that the long-rangecannon was hidden in a certain wood near Laon. French airmen hadendeavored to spy out certain positions there, but an unusually largenumber of German planes had fought them off.
"That's pretty good evidence that there must be something doing,"observed Tom, when he heard this information. "Laon is about ten milesbehind the German lines as they exist at present. Just a breather for agood French plane. Jack, that's a trip we'll soon be taking."
"I'll be with you, old scout. How's your hand?"
"Oh, all right now. I can hold the joy stick or work the gun. I'm readyfor whatever comes along."
The time had come for the picked squadron to leave Paris and assembleat the aerodrome assigned to them as their headquarters while the searchfor the big gun was in progress. Sad at having to leave without havingsome word of Mr. Raymond, and without knowing the fate of Bessie and hermother, Tom and Jack, nevertheless, bore up well and left with theircomrades, going out of Paris on a train that would eventually bring themto their headquarters.
In a way their mission was a secret one. Yet it was a question if theGermans did not guess that something like what really was afoot would beundertaken in order to silence the super-cannon. They were up to all thetricks of war, and they must have realized that the French would do asthe Germans themselves would do under similar circumstances.
"Well, this sure is some place!" exclaimed Tom, as they reached the campwhere they were to stay until the gun had been destroyed, or until someother change in plans was necessary. "It's the best aerodrome we'vestruck since we began flying in this war."
"I believe you!" echoed Jack.
The place, though newly established just back of the French lines, wherethey opposed the German trenches, was well fitted up for the purpose towhich it was to be devoted.
There were a number of canvas hangars for the aeroplanes, there wereliving quarters for the men, a wireless station and a well defended campwhere the aviators might live in comfort during the periods betweentheir flights.
Of course the place was open to attack by German fliers, but this wastrue of every place along the line. Sufficient camouflaging had beendone, however, to render the spot reasonably secure from bombing. Ofcourse a direct attack from in front would be met by the admirableFrench system of defense, and there were plenty of reserves that couldbe brought up if a general advance were attempted by the Germans. But asthere was no particular place of any military or strategic importance onthat sector, the worst that was to be feared was an attack from the air.
And this would be guarded against both by the French fliers themselvesand by a battery of the newest type of anti-aircraft gun.
"They don't seem to have forgotten much," observed Tom, as he and Jack,with the others, went to the quarters assigned to them.
"You said something!" exclaimed Jack, admiringly.
Thus had been set up in this locality, where heretofore no aircraftactivities had been carried on to any extent, a most perfectescadrille.
It was designed to destroy the big German cannon. Would it succeed?
That was a question every man of the Allies asked.
Shortly after the arrival of the picked squadron at the camp, which, inhonor of Tom and Jack had been named "Lincoln," word came in over thewireless that the big gun had again fired on Paris.
"It's funny we didn't hear any report of it," said Jack.
"There have been reports enough," Tom remarked. "I've heard the boomingof distant guns ever since we got near this place. Any one of them mayhave been the monster, or they may have been firing other guns to hidethe sound of this cannon. Then, too, it may not make as much noise as wethink it ought to. The Germans may have found a new kind of powder, oreven some propelling gas, that makes no extraordinary report. In thatcase we couldn't locate the gun by the sound."
"Maybe you're right," agreed Jack. "Anyhow they're firing, that much isproved; and it's somewhere over there," and he motioned toward theGerman lines.
Much as the airmen desired to start at once in their search for themonster cannon, it was deemed wise to have first a consultation and ageneral understanding of what means should be employed.
Then, too, all the aircraft were new, having been shipped to CampLincoln and there assembled, and it was desired to test them beforetaking t
he dangerous flights over the German lines. So the airmen wouldhave to spend some time--perhaps half a week--in preliminary work.
Meanwhile the great cannon would keep up its deadly, though, from amilitary standpoint, useless work.
And so began the preparation, if such it might be called. Every one,from the most daring "ace" to the humblest kitchen helper in the camp,was anxious for the day when it could be said that the gun was out ofcommission, or guns, if, as was likely, there was more than one. But themen in command knew the value of thoroughness. There must be no failurethrough lack of making proper plans.
But at last everything was in readiness. The planes had been tested,keyed up, and the motors run until every part of them was humming like atop. Each man felt confidence, not only in himself but in his craft, andthat meant much. There were several types for the fliers to use,single-seaters, the big bombing craft, those equipped for slow flyingand from which photographs were to be taken, as well as others. Thetaking of photographs was expected to help in revealing the position ofthe hidden gun.
The big Italian plane was not ready, it seemed, to be used, but it wouldbe soon, it was said.
Then came the day and the hour when certain members of the pickedsquadron were to take the air to look for the gun. Tom and Jack, totheir delight, were selected to go.
"What a chance!" exclaimed Jack, as he climbed into his machine, and sawthat he had plenty of ammunition for the Lewis gun.
"I hope we can make good!" returned Tom.
Then they were away and up, seeking to find the monster cannon that wasbringing the war into the heart of Paris.