by Jules Verne
Chapter 6
THE FIRST LETTER
After leaving Mr. Ward I returned to my home in Long Street. There Ihad plenty of time to consider this strange case uninterrupted byeither wife or children. My household consisted solely of an ancientservant, who having been formerly in the service of my mother, hadnow continued for fifteen years in mine.
Two months before I had obtained a leave of absence. It had still twoweeks to run, unless indeed some unforeseen circumstance interruptedit, some mission which could not be delayed. This leave, as I haveshown, had already been interrupted for four days by my explorationof the Great Eyrie.
And now was it not my duty to abandon my vacation, and endeavor tothrow light upon the remarkable events of which the road to Milwaukeeand the shore of New England had been in turn the scene? I would havegiven much to solve the twin mysteries, but how was it possible tofollow the track of this automobile or this boat?
Seated in my easy chair after breakfast, with my pipe lighted, Iopened my newspaper. To what should I turn? Politics interested mebut little, with its eternal strife between the Republicans and theDemocrats. Neither did I care for the news of society, nor for thesporting page. You will not be surprised, then, that my first ideawas to see if there was any news from North Carolina about the GreatEyrie. There was little hope of this, however, for Mr. Smith hadpromised to telegraph me at once if anything occurred. I felt quitesure that the mayor of Morganton was as eager for information and aswatchful as could have been myself. The paper told me nothing new. Itdropped idly from my hand; and I remained deep in thought.
What most frequently recurred to me was the suggestion of Mr. Wardthat perhaps the automobile and the boat which had attracted ourattention were in reality one and the same. Very probably, at least,the two machines had been built by the same hand. And beyond doubt,these were similar engines, which generated this remarkable speed,more than doubling the previous records of earth and sea.
"The same inventor!" repeated I.
Evidently this hypothesis had strong grounds. The fact that the twomachines had not yet appeared at the same time added weight to theidea. I murmured to myself, "After the mystery of Great Eyrie, comesthat of Milwaukee and Boston. Will this new problem be as difficultto solve as was the other?"
I noted idly that this new affair had a general resemblance to theother, since both menaced the security of the general public. To besure, only the inhabitants of the Blueridge region had been in dangerfrom an eruption or possible earthquake at Great Eyrie. While now, onevery road of the United States, or along every league of its coastsand harbors, every inhabitant was in danger from this vehicle or thisboat, with its sudden appearance and insane speed.
I found that, as was to be expected, the newspapers not onlysuggested, but enlarged upon the dangers of the case. Timid peopleeverywhere were much alarmed. My old servant, naturally credulous andsuperstitious, was particularly upset. That same day after dinner, asshe was clearing away the things, she stopped before me, a waterbottle in one hand, the serviette in the other, and asked anxiously,"Is there no news, sir?"
"None," I answered, knowing well to what she referred.
"The automobile has not come back?"
"No."
"Nor the boat?"
"Nor the boat There is no news even-in the best informed papers."
"But--your secret police information?"
"We are no wiser."
"Then, sir, if you please, of what use are the police?"
It is a question which has phased me more than once.
"Now you see what will happen," continued the old housekeeper,complainingly, "Some fine morning, he will come without warning, thisterrible chauffeur, and rush down our street here, and kill us all!"
"Good! When that happens, there will be some chance of catching him."
"He will never be arrested, sir."
"Why not?"
"Because he is the devil himself, and you can't arrest the devil!"
Decidedly, thought I, the devil has many uses; and if he did notexist we would have to invent him, to give people some way ofexplaining the inexplicable. It was he who lit the flames of theGreat Eyrie. It was he who smashed the record in the Wisconsin race.It is he who is scurrying along the shores of Connecticut andMassachusetts. But putting to one side this evil spirit who is sonecessary, for the convenience of the ignorant, there was no doubtthat we were facing a most bewildering problem. Had both of thesemachines disappeared forever? They had passed like a meteor, like astar shooting through space; and in a hundred years the adventurewould become a legend, much to the taste of the gossips of the nextcentury.
For several days the newspapers of America and even those of Europecontinued to discuss these events. Editorials crowded uponeditorials. Rumors were added to rumors. Story tellers of every kindcrowded to the front. The public of two continents was interested. Insome parts of Europe there was even jealousy that America should havebeen chosen as the field of such an experience. If these marvelousinventors were American, then their country, their army and navy,would have a great advantage over others. The United States mightacquire an incontestable superiority.
Under the date of the tenth of June, a New York paper published acarefully studied article on this phase of the subject. Comparing thespeed of the swiftest known vessels with the smallest minimum ofspeed which could possibly be assigned to the new boat, the articledemonstrated that if the United States secured this secret, Europewould be but three days away from her, while she would still be fivedays from Europe.
If our own police had searched diligently to discover the mystery ofthe Great Eyrie, the secret service of every country in the world wasnow interested in these new problems.
Mr. Ward referred to the matter each time I saw him. Our chat wouldbegin by his rallying me about my ill-success in Carolina, and Iwould respond by reminding him that success there was only a questionof expense.
"Never mind, my good Strock," said he, "there will come a chance forour clever inspector to regain his laurels. Take now this affair ofthe automobile and the boat. If you could clear that up in advance ofall the detectives of the world, what an honor it would be to ourdepartment! What glory for you!"
"It certainly would, Mr. Ward. And if you put the matter in mycharge--"
"Who knows, Strock? Let us wait a while! Let us wait!"
Matters stood thus when, on the morning of June fifteenth, my oldservant brought me a letter from the letter-carrier, a registeredletter for which I had to sign. I looked at the address. I did notknow the handwriting. The postmark, dating from two days before, wasstamped at the post office of Morganton.
Morganton! Here at last was, no doubt, news from Mr. Elias Smith.
"Yes!" exclaimed I, speaking to my old servant, for lack of another,"it must be from Mr. Smith at last. I know no one else in Morganton.And if he writes he has news!"
"Morganton?" said the old woman, "isn't that the place where thedemons set fire to their mountain?"
"Exactly."
"Oh, sir! I hope you don't mean to go back there!"
"Because you will end by being burned up in that furnace of the GreatEyrie. And I wouldn't want you buried that way, sir."
"Cheer up, and let us see if it is not better news than that."
The envelope was sealed with red sealing wax, and stamped with a sortof coat of arms, surmounted with three stars. The paper was thick andvery strong. I broke the envelope and drew out a letter. It was asingle sheet, folded in four, and written on one side only. My firstglance was for the signature.
There was no signature! Nothing but three initials at the end of thelast line!
"The letter is not from the Mayor of Morganton," said I.
"Then from whom?" asked the old servant, doubly curious in herquality as a woman and as an old gossip.
Looking again at the three initials of the signature, I said, "I knowno one for whom these letters would stand; neither at Morganton norelsewhere."
The hand-writing
was bold. Both up strokes and down strokes verysharp, about twenty lines in all. Here is the letter, of which I,with good reason, retained an exact copy. It was dated, to my extremestupefaction, from that mysterious Great Eyrie:
Great Eyrie, Blueridge Mtns,
To Mr. Strock: North Carolina, June 13th.
Chief Inspector of Police,
34 Long St., Washington, D. C.
Sir,
You were charged with the mission of penetrating the Great Eyrie.
You came on April the twenty-eighth, accompanied by theMayor of Morganton and two guides.
You mounted to the foot of the wall, and you encircled it,finding it too high and steep to climb.
You sought a breech and you found none. Know this: noneenter the Great Eyrie; or if one enters, he never returns.
"Do not try again, for the second attempt will not resultas did the first, but will have grave consequences for you.
"Heed this warning, or evil fortune will come to you.
"M. o. W."