by W E Johns
With the Gladiator still on guard overhead, Biggles and Algy reached the machine; it rocked as they clambered aboard and sank down, panting with exertion and excitement.
‘Okay, Smyth — let her go!’ shouted Biggles.
Algy looked at Biggles with affected amazement. ‘Don’t tell me that we’re going to get those perishing papers home at last,’ he muttered. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘I imagine Ginger still has the papers in his pocket,’ returned Biggles anxiously. ‘I wish he’d push on home. If his engine chose this moment to pack up—’
‘He’d make a pretty landing and we’d have to start all over again,’ jeered Algy. ‘Forget it. I’m going home.’
Further conversation was drowned in the roar of the flying-boat’s engines as Smyth opened the throttle. The water boiled as the machine swung round to face the longest run the lake provided. Then, majestically, it forged forward, faster and faster, cutting a clean white line across the surface of the lake as it lifted itself slowly from the water. The wake ended abruptly as the keel, after a parting pat, rose clear. The machine turned slowly towards the west.
The Gladiator closed in and took up a position near the wing-tip. Ginger’s face could just be seen, grinning. Seeing the others looking at him, he gave the thumbs-up signal, and held the papers for them to see.
Algy turned away. He couldn’t bear to watch, for he had a horrible fear that Ginger might drop them overboard, and the bare thought made him shudder. He looked down at the ground and saw that the Russian troops were all converging on one spot. Some of them seemed to be waving to the aircraft; others danced as if in a transport of joy; one or two threw their hats into the air. He turned an amazed face to Biggles.
‘I say, what’s going on down there?’ he asked in a curious tone of voice. ‘From the way those fellows are behaving one would think that they are glad to see us go.’
Biggles, too, looked down. He shook his head. ‘I don’t understand it either,’ he observed.
‘They look as if they’d all gone crazy. Maybe they have. There have been times in this affair when I thought I’d go crazy myself.’
Algy nodded. ‘It’s a funny war,’ he remarked philosophically.
Biggles stretched himself out on the floor. ‘As far as I’m concerned, it can be any sort of war it likes,’ he yawned. ‘I’m going to sleep. Wake me when we get home.’
CHAPTER XVII
The End of the Cruise
Two hours later the flying-boat landed on a lake near Oskar. The lake was just beyond the aerodrome, so Ginger in the Gladiator was down first, with the result that when Biggles and Algy stepped ashore, Colonel Raymond, with Ginger, was there to welcome him. He had raced over in a car.
As he shook hands with them he smiled, presumably at their appearance, which, after what they had been through, can be better imagined than described.
‘You look as though you’ve had a tough time,’ he observed.
‘Tough!’ Algy laughed sarcastically. ‘Oh, no. We got ourselves in this mess just to make it look that way.’
‘The main thing is, you’ve got the papers, sir,’ put in Biggles.
‘Yes, thanks. Good show.’ Then the Colonel looked serious. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had so much trouble,’ he said. ‘I’d no idea it would turn out to be such a difficult and dangerous business. No matter — all’s well that ends well.’
‘There were times,’ answered Biggles reflectively, ‘when it looked like ending badly — for us. We only got away by the skin of our teeth.’
Colonel Raymond patted him affectionately on the shoulder.
‘Never mind, you’re building up a wonderful reputation in Whitehall,’ he said comfortingly. ‘You may be sure that you’ll get the credit for what you’ve done when I submit my report. Now go and have a bath and a clean-up. Dinner is on me tonight.’
‘Where did you produce that flying-boat from so miraculously?’ inquired Biggles.
‘Produce it? Why, that’s the machine that flew me out from England — how did you think I got here? Your man Smyth knew it was here; when you failed to return he came to me in an awful state and asked me to let him have it — he said he thought he knew where he could find you. He’s been in the air ever since — I think he must have flown over half Russia.’
‘I spotted him in the distance soon after I took off,’ explained Ginger. ‘He might have found you without me, but in the circumstances I led him to the spot where I took off. That smoke-bomb so kindly dropped by the gent in the Russian bomber showed us where you were.’
‘So that was it,’ murmured Biggles. ‘I thought something of the sort must have happened.’
‘If you like you can all fly home with me tomorrow,’ offered Colonel Raymond.
Biggles looked puzzled. ‘Home with you? Why home?’
‘Well, there isn’t much point in staying here any longer, is there?’
‘But — what about the war?’
‘What war?’
‘This war.’
A light of understanding suddenly leapt into the Colonel’s eyes. He laughed aloud. ‘D’you mean to say you haven’t heard?’
‘Heard what?’ cried Biggles. ‘What’s the joke?’
‘The war’s over — at least this one is. Peace was declared between Finland and Russia three hours ago.’
Biggles looked thunderstruck. ‘Why, less than three hours ago we were still going hammer and tongs.’
‘I know. You must have fired the last shots in the war.’
‘So that’s why the Russians stopped shooting and started cheering instead!’ cried Biggles, suddenly understanding.
The Colonel smiled. ‘Of course. Most sensible people would rather cheer than shoot each other. Are you coming home with me?’
Biggles glanced at the others. ‘Well, there seems to be nothing more to stay here for so we may as well,’ he said. ‘There’s only one thing.’
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t, if you value my sanity, send us on any more of these wild paper-chases.’
‘That won’t be necessary, now the papers are in the bag,’ laughed Colonel Raymond. ‘Come on, let’s be going. As a matter of fact, the day I left England I heard a certain member of the Air Council asking for you.’
Biggles looked up. ‘Asking for me? What did he want me for?’
Colonel Raymond coughed apologetically. ‘Well — er — I seem to remember him saying something about a job in France.’
Biggles shook his head sadly. ‘Now I understand the hurry to get us home,’ he murmured with a sigh of resignation. ‘I might have guessed there was a trick in it.’
THE END
