Biggles Looks Back

by W E Johns

  “Guten Abend, gnädige Fraulein.”

  Biggles frowned. He knew the voice.

  “Guten Abend, Herr Kommandant,” answered Marie.

  In a flash Von Stalhein had turned and hissed in Biggles’s ear: “It’s Reinhardt! Look at him.”

  Biggles peeped. Reinhardt was now in uniform. High black boots, belted tunic, a revolver holster on his hip.

  The conversation that followed, after Greta had left the room, lasted some time. It began on a dangerous note, one that made Biggles furious at his carelessness.

  Reinhardt sniffed. “I didn’t know you smoked, Fraulein.”

  “Just occasionally.”

  “Where do you get the cigarettes?”

  “My woman brings them. I think she sometimes gets one of the guards to bring her a packet.”

  “I see.”

  To Biggles’s infinite relief this subject was not followed up. Reinhardt switched to the purpose of his visit. Two dangerous men, he stated, were at large in the district, and he thought it his duty, purely for her protection of course, to strengthen the guard at the castle. This would not affect her in any way. And if she saw men taking measurements she need take no notice.

  “Who are these men taking measurements?” inquired Marie.

  “They are engineers. They have to make a survey.”

  “Not demolition experts by any chance?”

  “Well — er — yes. You may as well know. You would have to be told eventually. But don’t get upset. These are only advance preparations.”

  “I understand.”

  “If you should be troubled in any way, or have a complaint to make, send your servant to me in Rodnitz, and I will attend to it.”

  “Danke schön,2 Herr Kommandant.”

  “Is there anything you want?”

  “Nein Danke.”

  A pause. “If you see any strange men about I trust you will tell the guard.”

  “I never go out.”

  “I understand you have a good view from your balcony.”

  “Yes. What of it?”

  “Would you mind if I posted a sentry on it, to keep watch for these two criminals?”

  Marie’s voice rose in indignation. “I would most certainly object. Haven’t you intruded enough as it is, with your men about the place prying into everything? I understand I shall not be here much longer. Please allow me to keep what privacy I have.”

  “Whose fault is that but your own, gnädige Fraulein?”

  “Oh don’t let us go over all that again,” answered Marie impatiently.

  “Very well. As you wish. That is all, then. Gute Nacht.”

  “Gute Nacht.”

  A door closed.

  For a minute nobody moved. Then Marie walked slowly to the window. “You heard that?”

  “We heard,” confirmed Biggles. “You did very well. So they’re tightening the net. That’s what it amounts to. I found that encouraging. The Kommandant told us quite a lot.”

  “In what way? Are you coming back in?”

  “As things are I think we had better stay outside. Reinhardt may come back, or start something. He as good as told us he has not the slightest suspicion that we are here, or with the men at his command he could have the place searched thoroughly. He gave us a few other interesting pieces of information that I’m glad to have. For instance, it’s obvious he doesn’t know of your early association with Erich; consequently it hasn’t dawned on him that he came here to find you. Had he known he would not have said what he did. Again, he has no suspicion that you and I are old friends, or putting two and two together he would have questioned you about it. These factors are of vital importance. I’m pretty sure he knows now that Erich and I have worked together, but that doesn’t matter as long as he doesn’t link us with you.”

  “How you work things out. Suppose he puts a man on the balcony?”

  “That would be a serious matter,” Biggles had to admit.

  “What shall we do now?”

  “Wait until we have more news from Max. He’s wide awake. I imagine he will keep his eyes and cars open and let us know what is happening.”

  “We can rely on him to do that.”

  “Good. Then Erich and I will go along to the sentry room and wait there. Should Greta have further news from Max you come to the window and cough. That’ll bring us along to hear it.”

  “As you say.”

  Biggles and Von Stalhein walked along to the sentry room and sat on a wooden form, a fixture, presumably provided to enable a sentry to rest from time to time.

  “What do you make of this talk of engineers?” questioned Von Stalhein. “Do you believe they seriously contemplate blowing up the castle?”

  “Frankly, no. To blow the place up would surely defeat their object, if the purpose is to expose the Janis valuables. The stuff would either be buried under tons of rubble, or scattered far and wide by the explosions. It would be a major undertaking, anyway. This pile would take some shifting. Still, it would be an even more fantastic task to take the place to pieces stone by stone, as they have threatened. I think it’s more likely men have been brought here to take measurements and check them for vaults or secret chambers. Heaven alone knows what may be under the castle. Fortresses of this period usually had dungeons for prisoners.”

  “I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  Biggles was looking beyond his companion. “Is that a doorway in the wall behind you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “Nowhere. That is, only to one of the turrets. A circular place. An extra high look-out I imagine.”

  “Then you’ve been up?”

  “Of course. Greta fixed me up with some old blankets. I keep them up there out of the way. There’s nothing of interest. Slits for shooting arrows, a spout for pouring out boiling oil on anyone trying to climb up — and all that nonsense.”

  Biggles smiled broadly. “I wouldn’t call a quart of boiling oil down the back of my neck nonsense.”

  “I think it must have been used for that purpose at some time. There are marks of burning on the floor as if a fire had been lighted. But never mind about that. The position here is getting serious.”

  “It might be worse. Nothing has happened yet to upset our plan for getting away.”

  “You take things very calmly.”

  “There’s no point in getting in a flap.”

  “So Reinhardt has come out into the open, dolling himself up in the uniform of the Security Police. What’s the idea of that?”

  “To create an impression, I’d say. As you must have noticed, it’s the regular thing for men who seize power to flatter their vanity by strutting about in a uniform, usually with a sprinkling of home-made decorations to make them look more important than they are.”

  “Listen. I thought I heard a cough. It must be Marie, with further news.”

  “Then let’s go and hear it.”

  They returned to the window.

  The news was comforting. The reinforcements had been quartered in dormitories over the stables, once used by outside staff. They had retired for the night. Marie produced a rug and a blanket provided by Greta.

  “You’ll need them,” she told Biggles. “Erich tells me his room is rather draughty.”

  Biggles took the coverings thankfully. “Having been there I can believe it,” he said dryly. “Now if there’s nothing more, I’ll go and try it.”

  Their return to the sentry box was greeted with a fluttering noise that caused Biggles to recoil in alarm.

  “It’s all right,” Von Stalhein was quick to reassure him.

  “What the devil was it?”

  “Only the owl.”

  “What owl?”

  “The one that normally occupies the place, I imagine. Naturally, he resents our intrusion. From time to time during the night he sits on a window ledge and hoots.”

  “I’m glad you warned me,” replied Biggles grimly.

  * * *

/>   1 Sergeant-major.

  2 German: “Thank you”

  CHAPTER XIV

  MORE PROBLEMS

  THE following morning, after an uncomfortable night, Biggles was awakened by the sound of voices. Men’s voices. They sounded dangerously close. In fact, perceiving where he was, for a few dreadful seconds as he sprang to his feet he thought the speakers were on the balcony. A swift glance showed they were not. The voices were coming from below.

  Von Stalhein was still asleep. Biggles shook him, his expression a warning for silence. “Shh,” he breathed, and went out to investigate.

  He hadn’t far to go. Three steps and a peep over the embattled parapet told him all he needed to know. Two men in uniform were making their way slowly through the tall herbage that flourished on the level strip of ground at the base of the castle wall. They appeared to be unarmed. Nothing in their manner suggested they were searching for something in particular. Sometimes they stopped, one pointing, giving the impression that they were strangers exploring ground unknown to them. Their chief interest was the castle.

  Biggles waited, listening, until receding voices told him that the men had reached the extremity of the wall and turned the corner. He returned to the shelter.

  “What’s going on?” asked Von Stalhein anxiously.

  “Two men having a look round.”

  “Doing what, exactly?”

  “Nothing in particular. If you asked me to guess I’d say either they were a couple of engineers examining the structure or simply two of the new guards looking over ground they may have to cover. One had a stripe on his shoulder-strap so he may have been an N.C.O. They’ve gone now.”

  “If it’s decided to take in the front of the castle as part of a regular patrol it’ll be another hazard when the time comes to leave.”

  “Too true. I had reckoned on that way being clear.”

  “We shall have to watch and see what they do. If they patrol at regular hours we can time our departure accordingly. Alternatively we shall have to waylay them and put them out of action.”

  “With what? They’ll be armed. Two men. What do we tackle them with, our bare hands?” Biggles was sarcastic.

  “There are weapons inside.”

  “The weapons I saw are not my line. I’m not cracking some poor devil’s skull with a battle-axe.”

  “Why not?”

  “Have a heart! No wonder you Prussians have a reputation for being ruthless.”

  “Not ruthless. Practical. Whether you knock a man on the head with an axe or put a bullet through him it comes to the same thing. A dead man. I’ll admit the axe method is a bit old-fashioned but the effect is the same.”

  “Okay. Let’s not argue about it. This is no time to debate the efficiency of lethal instruments. All I can say is if I have to use a weapon I trust it will be something less savage than a battle-axe. Do we get any breakfast? What’s left of my sausage is getting a bit shabby.”

  “Marie will put something out of the window and let us know when it’s there. It’s still a trifle early.”

  “What about a wash?”

  “Rain water. There are some nice puddles. Marie let me have a piece of soap and a towel.”

  “Shaving?”

  “Nothing doing. Marie doesn’t use a razor.”

  “Pity. We shall look a couple of pretty specimens by the end of the week. While we’re waiting I’ll have a look round. I have yet to see in daylight just where we are.”

  Biggles stepped out on to the balcony, keeping well back from the parapet, and for the first time was able to see their position clearly. Behind him the grim grey walls of the castle rose sheer forty feet to frowning battlements. From the corners sprang circular turrets, like the one over the sentry box they were using. At the other end of the stone-flagged balcony was another. He formed the opinion that the balcony, really a terrace, was an addition to the original building, added to the front aspect only for the view it offered.

  This, with the autumn-tinted tops of the forest trees rolling down into the valley, was magnificent. Between them it was possible to catch glimpses of the river.

  Having seen all there was to see from the balcony Biggles went up into the turret built over the sentry shelter, disturbing some jackdaws whose nests of twigs covered much of the floor. He found the place as Von Stalhein had described it. From their dizzy height two slit windows offered a wonderful panorama in different directions. He could see not only the proposed landing field but follow the course of the river.

  As he surveyed it suddenly his expression changed. He pursed his lips. Something was different. The several small sandy islands were no longer there. All that was left of the large one was a narrow strip. What had happened was all too clear. He went down to the shelter where he found Von Stalhein squatting beside a jug of tea, half a loaf of bread and a pot of jam.

  “Help yourself,” invited Von Stalhein cheerfully. “Did you see anything interesting?”

  Biggles sat down on his rolled-up rugs. “Too perishing true I did,” he stated bitterly. “Mind you don’t choke when I tell you the bad news.”

  Von Stalhein looked up sharply, a piece of jammy bread poised. “What is it?”

  “After all the rain we’ve had the river’s in spate. Well, if not in spate, I reckon it has risen at least a foot. When I last saw it there was a rock at the end of an island. It stuck up quite ten or twelve inches. I marked it as an obstruction in case Bertie tried to get down on the island.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s gone. Or if it’s still there it’s under water.”

  “Does that affect us?”

  “I’d say it does. Have you forgotten that we’ve got to cross the river to get to the landing ground? It was because I knew it was possible to wade the river that Bertie and I decided on the field.”

  “If it doesn’t rise any more we should be able to get across.”

  “That’s a hell of a big if,” retorted Biggles. “If it rises another foot the field will be inundated. Think what that would mean. Bertie wouldn’t recognize the place; and if he did, and tried to get down, he’d find himself in the middle of a lake. I don’t have to tell you what happens to a land machine that tries to get down on water.”

  “Now it’s stopped raining the river may start to go back.”

  “If it doesn’t we’re sunk. You seem to think we should be able to cross as it is. I’m not so sure about that. The river runs at a rate of knots. I’m thinking of Marie. If she fell she’d never get up. That goes for us, too. For all we know the water may still be rising. It was raining most of yesterday. Of course, it isn’t what the weather is doing here that matters. It’s what it’s doing higher up. The hell of it is, we shan’t know what the river is doing until we get to it, and that won’t be till zero night.”

  “We can watch it from up here. That should give us a rough idea of whether it’s rising or falling.”

  “A rough idea isn’t enough. We’ve got to know for certain. We can’t afford to gamble. Imagine the position if we went to the river only to find we couldn’t get across. Don’t forget we’ve got to be over the other side when the plane touches down. There can be no waiting. You can bet that once the machine is on the ground it’ll only be a matter of minutes before the police arrive.”

  “If we couldn’t cross we’d have to come back here.”

  “That’s likely to be easier said than done. We’d have to get Marie back to her room. Getting her down from the balcony won’t be easy. To get her back up would be a lot harder.”

  “How about using the bridge?”

  “Unless Reinhardt is a fool, and I wouldn’t care to count on that, he’ll have put a guard on it. Anyway, it’s too far. Five miles along the deer track in the dark, then five miles back following the river on the other bank — she’d never do it. It would be complete lunacy to start.”

  “Could there be a boat anywhere near?”

  “I haven’t seen a boat of any sort. This is no river f
or boating.”

  “Max might suggest something.”

  “Well, he might ascertain the height of the water.”

  “When?”

  “Any time.”

  “No use. It might go down now, but one good storm could put it up again. We’ve got to know the position on the day.”

  “Yes. I see that. Besides, we can’t keep asking Max to do things for us. He’s taking chances as it is. Marie has already asked him for a rope to get her down from the balcony.”

  “If we can’t see what we want to know from here I’ll go to the river myself,” declared Biggles. “An hour on the bank should tell me whether the water’s rising or falling.”

  “Just a minute,” said Von Stalhein. “Can I hear something?” He went out. He was back within a minute, his expression serious. “Now I can give you some bad news,” he reported.

  Biggles looked resigned. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

  “Two men with billhooks are cutting a path through the weeds and stuff right across the front.”

  “Ah! So they are going to patrol it.”

  “I haven’t finished yet. There’s worse to come.”

  “How much worse can it be?”

  “Judge for yourself. Along at the end someone has dumped coils of barbed wire.”

  Biggles stared, aghast. “You’re right. If they’re going to put up a barbed wire fence it’ll be a lot worse. The man in charge of this new party obviously knows his job. He’s not taking any chances of losing his prisoner. Just a minute, though. There’s something queer about this. Why after all this time should they suddenly decide to build a fence if Marie it to be taken away at the end of the week? That doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Marie has only just been told she’s going. Knowing this she may make a desperate attempt to get away. They’re seeing to it that she can’t.”

  Biggles shook his head. “That may be the answer but I’m not convinced. I can think of another reason. They’re not doing this to keep Marie in. It could be to keep us out.”