by W E Johns
“I heard. They’re coming at ten o’clock. We should be well clear by then.”
“I’m glad you warned me what was likely to happen. I was prepared, but I did not expect them to come tonight.”
“Neither did I, or you may be sure I wouldn’t have come here,” declared Biggles. “If they are going to walk in and out of your rooms at all hours we shall have to be more careful. However, it won’t be for much longer.”
“My obstinacy infuriates them. They must be getting desperate.”
“So it seems. Can I leave you to make the necessary arrangements with Max?”
“I will ask Greta to do that at once. Max will be with you as dawn breaks.”
“Good. Now I’ll get back to Erich. He must be wondering what has happened.” Biggles opened the window. “If all goes well we shan’t meet again until the time comes for us to leave. That will be on Saturday. Be ready by nine o’clock. Put together anything you wish to take with you but keep to bare necessities. Heavy luggage would be in the way.”
“I understand.”
“Then I’ll say good night, dear lady.”
Marie put a hand on Biggles’s shoulder. “One moment. In case things should go wrong there is one thing I would like you to know. I am truly sorry for what I did to you in France.”
Biggles smiled and took her hand. “We were at war then. I’m not sorry. You gave me something wonderful to remember.”
“While it lasted.”
“For as long as I live.”
Marie smiled through sudden tears. “It would give any woman strength to hear a man say that.”
“I must go,” said Biggles abruptly.
“Good night, dear friend.”
Biggles returned to the shelter.
“You’ve been a long time,” grumbled Von Stalhein.
“Sorry. I was held up.”
“By what?”
“Reinhardt and the Oberfeldwebel arrived while I was there.”
“My God!”
“It’s all right. We heard them coming and Marie hid me in her bedroom.”
“What did they want?”
“Permission to survey the balcony tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. Marie suggested it would be a better plan for us to use the tunnel and hide in the lodge. I agreed so she’s going to arrange it with Max. He’ll be here at daybreak to take us through. There’s nothing more we can do tonight but we shall have to be on the move early to tidy up here. Now let’s get some sleep while we can.”
* * *
1 German: “Quick”
CHAPTER XVI
THE RIVER CROSSING
AT the first glimmer of daylight, the weather fair, Max appeared.
He found Biggles and Von Stalhein ready and waiting, their beds bundled and strapped together with the reins and Biggles’s mackintosh thrown on them. After a last look round to make doubly sure that no sign of their occupation remained they set off, and it may be said at once that the removal operation was completed without a hitch. As had been anticipated there was no one in the castle at such an early hour. In the gloomy half-light that crept in through the narrow windows the atmosphere of the place was even more unreal, something not of the present-day world but out of the past.
By the time the party had reached its objective, the ruins, the light had improved sufficiently for Biggles to see them in all their melancholy decay. Weeds flourished. Saplings and even small trees had found a roothold. thrusting aside the stone paving slabs. Ivy, which seems to thrive on such conditions had taken possession.
Max led the way to a clump of evergreen shrubs, mostly holly, that had established themselves at what had been the rear of the building. In the middle was an open space large enough to accommodate half a dozen people, and here Max said they should be safe. It was well away from the tracks patrolled regularly by the guards. He would bring them food from time to time, enough to last them for their brief stay. He understood the position, Marie having explained it, so he knew when he had to come to fetch them.
With that this strange friend, with his grotesque legs, departed, leaving his charges to settle down in their new quarters. The weather remained fair, to the great satisfaction of Biggles, who still had the river crossing on his mind.
To make the story of their long and anxious wait as short as possible it can be said right away that no one came near them, although they sometimes heard voices in the distance. But they saw no one, for which they were thankful; but the day was a period of intense anxiety, and with nerves on edge they were relieved when darkness fell and they were able to relax. They unrolled their bedding and settled down for the night, Max did not come back, but as they had brought food with them he was not expected.
He came, bringing bread, sausages and a large can of tea, soon after daylight. He had little to report and no bad news. The engineers had been in the castle. They had surveyed the balcony, but as no questions had been asked it could be assumed that nothing had aroused their suspicions. Police cars were still patrolling the river road. The river had gone down a little but the level of the water was still above normal.
The barbed wire fence was almost complete. There had been an argument over the lost wire cutters. After a search had failed to find them another pair had been produced. That was all. Max departed, saying he would be back at nine o’clock to take them through the castle to the balcony. The engineers, he said, had not finished their work inside; that would take days; but it was unlikely there would be anyone in the castle after dark .
“Well, this is it,” said Biggles after Max had gone. “By this time tomorrow it should all be over, one way or the other.”
“Suppose Bertie doesn’t turn up?” suggested Von Stalhein. “Will you come back here?”
“Probably not. It all depends.”
“On what?”
“On how long it takes Reinhardt to discover Marie has disappeared. Unless he goes to see her again there’s no reason that I can see why he should know for twenty-four hours or more. In the normal course of events I’d stay on the other side of the river, in the forest on the far side of the turnip field, to give Bertie a chance to get in tomorrow night. That was the arrangement and I shall stick to it. Should Marie be missed the place would soon he swarming with Security Police, and I doubt if it would be possible to get back to the castle. I’m gambling that her disappearance won’t be known for some time.”
“And if Bertie doesn’t turn up the next night?”
Biggles shrugged. “We can’t really make any provision for that. Presumably Marie would go back to the castle. She’d be no worse off than she was before we came here. As for us, let’s face it, the game would be up, and all we could do would be to try to reach the frontier on foot. There would be no point in staying here. They’d see to it we never got near Marie again. They’d take her away and we wouldn’t have a hope of finding her. I doubt if they’d harm her while she still holds her trump card — the secret of the Janis treasure.”
“Unless they pull the castle to pieces and find it.”
“I can’t believe they’ll do that. I believe this talk of tearing down the castle is a big bluff. The cost would be enormous. Besides, the place must have an historical importance, and if people saw it being demolished, as they would, they’d want to know why. That could start something. The affair would become an international newspaper story, and they wouldn’t want that. But things haven’t reached that stage yet so let’s not worry about what may never happen.”
The occupation known as killing time is always a tedious one, but on this occasion there was no alternative. The day was spent mostly in silence, counting the passing of the hours; but it had to end, and as by the time night fell Max had not put in an appearance there was reason to hope that nothing had occurred to upset the plan. The weather was fair, clear and starlight, the moon not yet having risen.
Their hopes were confirmed when Max arrived, appearing out of the ground like a corpse from a grave, shortly before nine o’clock. He said no
thing had happened. Marie was ready, waiting in her room. The fence had been finished and the men had gone. The last time he had seen the river the water was about the same.
“Then we may as well start,” said Biggles, picking up his mackintosh and checking that the torches, and the wire cutters, were in the pockets. “We’ll leave this stuff here,” he went on, nodding towards the bedding. “If Max wants it he can collect it in his own time. We shall want this, though.” He looped the reins over his arm.
The trip through the tunnel, and afterwards through the castle, was made without difficulty or alarm, which, as Biggles remarked, was a good start. “One can’t expect things always to go right, but they can’t go wrong all the time,” he added.
They found Greta standing guard at the door. Marie, in serviceable outdoor clothes, was inside. She said she had been on the balcony, watching. There was no one there.
“Have you any luggage?” asked Biggles.
“Only this.” Marie picked up a small bundle, actually a knotted headscarf.
Biggles offered to carry it, but she demurred, arguing that he would need his hands free.
“As you wish,” agreed Biggles. “Let’s start.”
Marie went and embraced her loyal servants. She spoke to them for a few moments. What she said the others did not hear. They were looking the other way, for the parting would obviously be a painful one.
“This is the order,” said Biggles when she returned to them. “Erich will go first down the rope taking the wire cutters.” He handed them over. “While he’s cutting the wire I’ll let you down, Marie. I shall follow, and Greta can release the rope from the top. We may need it for crossing the river.” He asked Max to look over the balcony to make sure there was no one there.
He went. He came straight back to report that two guards were there.
“Are they walking or standing still as if they intend to stay there?”
“They are standing still.”
Biggles swore softly under his breath.
“Wait,” said Max. “I will get them away.”
“How?”
“The stables are old and built of wood. There is much straw. Their things are there. If it goes on fire everyone will run to save his things.” Max looked at Marie, apparently for her approval.
“Do that,” said Marie. “The stables will never again be used.”
“Auf weidersehen,” said Max, and departed.
The others waited, Biggles standing on the balcony listening to the voices of the men below.
A quarter of an hour passed. Then from a distance came a shout, followed by cries of “Feuer! Feuer!”
Biggles, looking over the balcony, saw the guards go off at a run. “He’s done it,” he said crisply. “Now’s our chance. Down you go, Erich.”
The leather rope was lowered and made fast to the parapet. Von Stalhein slid down. Biggles pulled it up and fastened the loose end securely round Marie’s waist. She climbed over the parapet and Biggles let her down. Von Stalhein was waiting. He removed the rope. Greta was standing by Biggles. “When I’m down release the rope,” he told her, and went down hand over hand. The rope followed him. He coiled it swiftly.
“This way,” said Von Stalhein, dragging aside some severed ends of wire. They went through the gap he had made, and the descent through the forest to the road began.
The journey was taken without haste, for time had been allowed for this. Biggles went first, torch in hand, ready for an emergency. Von Stalhein gave Marie as much support as possible and lifted her over the most difficult places. In this way the road was reached without accident.
This, everyone knew, was the danger area. The others waited under the trees while Biggles made a cautious reconnaissance. The road lay clear in the light of the moon, now rising. He could see no one, but he could hear a car coming and waited for it to pass. Then he said “Now,” and they ran across to the low wall on the other side.
The bank beyond it, down to the gravel of the old river bed, was steep, and again the rope was brought into use, more as a precautionary measure against a fall than because it was essential. All went well, however, and at the bottom they paused both to rest and listen for sounds that might indicate trouble. Behind them, at the top of the hill beyond the castle, an orange glow was spreading across the sky.
“Max has made a job of the fire,” observed Von Stalhein.
“It looks to me as if he’s done more than was necessary,” answered Biggles. “That fire will be seen from Rodnitz. It’ll bring along Reinhardt and his whole perishing gang to see what has happened. If he finds Marie has gone the entire district will be crawling with police within an hour. We’d better press on.”
“It’s only just after ten so we have plenty of time.”
“No matter. The sooner we’re in position the better. We still have to cross the river. I can hear it from here, which must mean there’s more water in it than I reckoned on.”
They went on to where the bank faced the island, no great distance; but there was no cover and, as Biggles pointed out, while the moonlight was helpful there was a danger they might be seen from the road. “If a patrol car comes along and spots us we shall have Reinhardt breathing down our necks, so we’d better get across.”
“Don’t worry about me,” said Marie. “I can swim.”
“It won’t be a matter of swimming,” Biggles told her. “I don’t think the river can be deep enough for that. But if you fall you may not be able to get on your feet again. We’ll rope ourselves together. That should help.”
The reins were adjusted, Biggles in front, Marie in the middle with Von Stalhein behind taking the slack of the lifeline.
“I shall make for the island,” explained Biggles.
“Take it slowly. Always make sure you have a secure foothold before you take a step.”
He walked out into the water. Before it was up to his knees, the water building up the side of his legs, he could feel the drag. He realized that Marie, being lighter, would feel it even more. He daren’t hurry, although he was worried by the reflection of the moon on the water. Anyone looking at the river from the road could hardly fail to see them. He was relieved that nowhere did the water come above his knees and he reached the island without any great difficulty. He held the line taut until the others were across.
“Good work,” he said. “Let’s go on.”
They crossed the narrow strip of shingle and the last part of the crossing began. As he had feared this became more difficult as he advanced, particularly the last few yards, where the current, swinging round a bend, had scoured a narrow groove in the river bed. It had, moreover, swept away the silt so that the bottom was rough rock. By leaning against the stream he got across safely although the water in the deep places came up to his thighs.
Turning, he warned the others what was ahead of them and braced himself to take the strain. He told Von Stalhein to stand still, playing out the line, until Marie was within reach of him. This was done. He took Marie by the hand, helped her up the bank and released her from the rope. Then just as all seemed well, came disaster.
A car rounding the bend of the road may have been responsible. Its blazing headlights swept across the water dazzling everyone. Von Stalhein, who had just started to cross, put a hand to shield his eyes. He slipped, lost his balance and fell.
Biggles pushed Marie on one side and hung on to the rope. Von Stalhein was already being swept downstream. As his full weight fell on the rope Biggles nearly went in head first. He dug his heels into the bank. The bank began to slip under his feet. Marie, who of course could see what was happening, added her weight by clutching him round the waist. For a few seconds it looked as if they would all end up in the river; but the extra weight told. The rope held, and the current swung Von Stalhein round to the bank. He got his hands on it and dragged himself up. The others ran to help him.
“Pity you had to get wet,” consoled Biggles.
“My own silly fault,” growled Von Stalhein, wr
inging water out of his jacket. “It was that cursed car. I thought someone had turned a searchlight on us. Bad luck it had to come along at that moment.”
“Luck usually cuts both ways,” said Biggles tritely. “Ours could have been worse. A lot worse. A wind might have got up, and I wouldn’t fancy my chance making a crosswind landing here. We’re all pretty wet, anyway; but we’re across, and that’s what really matters.”
“It isn’t the first time I’ve been wet through,” put in Marie, cheerfully. “The water isn’t as cold as I thought it might be.”
“Let’s get to the field,” said Biggles. “We can talk there.”
They went on to a low stone wall that was the boundary of the landing field and made themselves as comfortable as the circumstances allowed. Biggles looked at his watch. “We didn’t have too much time to spare after all,” he observed. “Half an hour. Not that we should expect Bertie to be punctual considering what he has to do. He might be late; or he might be early, so let’s get organized.”
‘I’m wondering if the driver of that car spotted us,” put in Von Stalhein. “His lights were full on us.”
“He’d only see us if he happened to be looking this way, which doesn’t seem very likely. Surely he’d be looking at the road. There’s nothing we can do about it, anyway, so we might as well forget it. Now, this is the drill. I shall fall back on the old-fashioned way of marking out a ground for a night landing. That is, by putting out three lights in the shape of a letter L. Here are your torches. Marie, you stay. here. I shall go forward two hundred yards. That will be my station. Erich, you’ll come with me. From my position you’ll turn at right angles and walk out, say, fifty yards. That will be a letter L, so to speak. Bertie will land into it. When we hear the plane coming we switch on the lights and wave them pointing straight up. The ground’s a bit soft, but not soggy enough I think to grip the wheels. All we can do now is wait.”
“And if Bertie doesn’t come?” queried Von Stalhein.
“If you don’t mind we’ll leave that fence till we come to it,” replied Biggles, shortly.
