Biggles - Air Detective Page 11
by W E Johns
The telephone at Biggles’s elbow rang. He picked up the receiver. “Yes, Bigglesworth here,” he announced; and then, after listening for a minute, shook his head sadly. “Thank you, sir,” he said, and hung up.
He looked at the others. “It seems that Lutton won’t go to gaol after all,” he murmured.
“Why not?” asked Ginger.
“Because when the police went to arrest him he tried to make a get-away in that homemade birdcage which he called an aeroplane. At five hundred feet a wing came adrift and he went into the ground like a brick. He hadn’t a hope. I told him the thing was a deathtrap. Poor, silly fellow. Why will some chaps make such a mess of their lives?”
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