The Dirigibles of Death Read Online Free PDF Page A

interviewed Moore the local constable, talked with Jared Dunne the mail-carrier, with the man Timothy Newbald, and had a word or two with Major Leighton who had just arrived with his chauffeur to examine the airship. While speaking with him, I was summoned to the telephone and received the astounding and horrifying news of the rapine and murder committed at Netley Heath. Here the murderers had appeared within a mile of East Clandon and in the midst of the cordon of police. I had ordered to search the entire district. And they had gotten away without leaving a trace. I immediately ordered additional men to the neighborhood and was preparing to take charge of the man-hunt in person, when I received the comforting news of the murderer at Compton having been killed, although I regretted exceedingly the injuries the police had received in their efforts to capture him alive. Obviously the beings were maniacs and could not be treated like ordinary mortals, and I hurriedly got in touch with the authorities, secured orders for revolvers and ammunition to be distributed among all the members of the police force in the neighborhood, and gave orders to all constables (as well as private citizens) to shoot the maniacs on sight.
    It was, I admit, a high-handed proceeding, but I considered that the conditions warranted it; but as usual certain meddlesome individuals with a mawkish sentiment for all criminals got me into very hot water, indeed. No sooner had news of my actions been spread, than extra papers blared the facts in glaring headlines, and within half an hour I was peremptorily summoned to London.
    It seemed that a tremendous uproar had been created in certain circles, and Scotland Yard had been swamped with protests, denunciations and appeals—all in no measured terms, voicing opinions of an Inspector of Police who would order irresponsible, helpless maniacs shot down in cold blood. In vain I protested that these men were red-handed, vicious, terrible murderers; that they were beyond all pale of the law or common humanity; that to attempt to capture them would result in the deaths of honest, innocent men, and that any citizen meeting them and not killing them on sight would (in all likelihood) be killed (or worse) himself. No, the law gave me no authority to order any man killed (except in self-defense). That was a matter for judge and jury. My duty was to capture them (even if by so doing lives were sacrificed). I was severely reprimanded and requested to resign from the force. Cut before I could reply, my chief answered a telephone call, and instantly his expression changed. "My God!" I heard him mutter, "It's terrible, horrible!"
    He replaced the instrument and turned to me. "From Hawley," he exclaimed, "three of the—the maniacs raided the village not fifteen minutes ago. They killed sixteen people and wounded a dozen more. And—God, Inspector, it's too horrible—the fiends were seen eating—actually devouring—the bodies! And they got clean away."
    "Sorry," I said tersely. "If my orders had not been countermanded, this could not have happened, but as the murderers—cannibals—are poor, deluded, helpless maniacs not responsible for their acts, I suppose we can afford to permit useful citizens to be destroyed in the name of humanity."
    The chief's fist struck the desk with a bang. "By the Lord, No!" he shouted. "Not by a long shot! Get back on your job, Maidstone, and use any means— any means, mind you, to stop this devilish business. Any means as long as you wipe these creatures from existence. And damn these sentimentalists!" "It's about time," I remarked, as I turned to go, "do you realize what, red tape has cost us already? Twenty-six deaths and two women driven insane by six maniacs within six hours! Nearly five an hour. I—"
    The telephone bell interrupted me. "Thank Heaven!" I heard the chief say, relief in his voice. Then, as he hung up, "It's over," he informed me. "The three brutes are dead—literally cut