“A what!”
“A warga-warga bird. You know the little chappie that flies backwards to keep the sun out of his eyes.”
Zolton scowled. “Are you trying to be funny?”
“That was the general idea, “ Bertie admitted, frankly.
The little gunman now cut in, his voice brittle with suspicion.
Pointing at Bertie he rapped out: “He’s one of the lot we saw here yesterday. What’s their game? They’re up to something.”
The question was not answered. Instead, the heavily-built man, after looking round quickly, asked another. “Where’s Crane?”
This evidently was the name of the R.A.F. man. Presumably taking advantage of the situation he had disappeared.
Swearing, the gunman whipped out his pistol. “I’ll get the little rat,” he grated. He looked at Bertie. “Did you see which way he went?”
Bertie had seen the escapee fade into the bushes. He pointed. But it was not in the direction he had seen the R.A.F. man go. He acted on impulse, not pausing to ask himself why he should take sides with any of them.
Chapter Nine
Ginger and Minnie, having been dropped off by Bertie a little way short of the drive leading to the big house, walked on towards it. Lotton Hall, as they could now see — or the upper part of it, was a fairly modern red brick mansion standing in extensive gardens, as do most such establishments. There was a good range of outbuildings more or less adjacent which may have originally been stables and coach houses but were now probably garages. No doubt they were also used as the kennels for the dogs that the owner of the place was said to breed.
On one side the ground lay open and flat; in fact the big field which it had been thought would be large enough for a light plane to get down in provided it was in the hands of an experienced pilot, or the machine might end up in collision with one of the thick hedges that bounded the field on all sides. It did not pass unnoticed that there were no animals grazing so that at least the field was free from that sort of obstruction.
Just what Ginger and Minnie were going to do when they were closer had not been decided, for with such meagre information as they so far possessed it had not been possible to make anything like a definite plan. The first thing was obviously to make a careful reconnaissance from the road. It was this they talked about as, with Bertie’s car now out of sight they walked on slowly, still on the main road, where they had every right to be.
It was already clear that the only way to get near the house or the outbuildings without being seen would be by taking advantage of the cover provided by some semi-wild gardens on the side of the house farthest from the big field. Wild-garden, however, is a broad term. It can mean almost anything. In fact, the house stood in a sort of artificial park. Any big trees such as elms and the like which may have been there when the place was planned had been felled and their places taken by smaller flowering trees and shrubs such as prunus, labumum and lilac, with a sprinkling of Japanese maples now blazing in their highly-coloured autumn foliage. Between these ornamental introductions there were open grassy spaces, as could be seen by looking over the hedge. In short, the one side of the house had been subject to what is commonly called landscape-gardening. It had not been forgotten that the present occupier of the house made a hobby of breeding dogs, but so far there had been neither sight nor sound of them.
“We shan’t learn much from here, that’s certain,” remarked Ginger.
“The trouble is we don’t really know what we’re looking for; that is, anything in particular. I can’t see how we can hope to get close to the house without being spotted by somebody inside. I suppose we could try to find a way through those shrubs. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter if we were seen. We could always find an excuse for being there. You can’t be charged with trespassing unless you’re doing damage.”
“Let’s walk along a bit to see what the place looks like from the other side,” suggested Minnie.
They continued on down the road and had nearly reached the drive entrance when they struck what at first seemed like a stroke of bad luck, in that they were just too late to see something, or someone, of importance. Out of the drive, slowly, as its junction with the main road demanded, came a car. It was neither the taxi nor the Cortina.
After a short pause to confirm that the road was clear, instead of coming towards them, which would have revealed the driver clearly, to Ginger’s disgust it turned in the opposite direction, so that it was impossible to see who was in it.
“Confound it!” snapped Ginger. “We’ve just missed the boat. Anyhow, I got its number although that isn’t going to tell us much.”
He put a hand on Minnie’s arm. “Do you notice anything odd?”
“No.”
“The gate’s shut. How did that happen? The man driving the car didn’t get out so he couldn’t have done it.”
“Somebody must have shut it behind him.”
“There isn’t anyone else.” They had now reached the drive and there was not a soul in sight. Ginger went on. “If the gate isn’t automatic it must be controlled from the house. We’d better remember that. It’s a pretty heavy gate, with wire netting all over it — to keep the dogs in, I suppose. It would be difficult for anyone to get out in a hurry.”
Nothing more was said about it. They walked on, and had not gone far when who should they see coming towards them, on his bicycle, but Police Constable Murray, the officer who the previous afternoon had shown them the way to the spinney where the kitbag had been found.
“He must be going round his beat,” remarked Ginger. “He told us yesterday that he came this way as far as the crossroads. He must have met the car that just left here. There’s a chance he may know it, and saw who was in it.”
When they met the constable he stopped and got off his bike. “You still here?” was his greeting, in a surprised voice.
Ginger answered. “We’ve been home but we’ve come back for another look round. Tell me, did you meet a car — about a minute ago?”
“Yes.”
“Did you recognise it?”
The policeman smiled. “Know it? I see it practically every day.”
“Then you must know who it belongs to.”
“Of course I know. It’s Doctor Grey, one of our local doctors.”
“Was he driving it when you met it just now?”
“Yes. He pulled up and spoke to me.”
“He’s been to Lotton Hall.”
“So he told me.”
“Is somebody ill?”
“More or less. Might have been worse. They had an accident there yesterday. A friend of the family was cleaning a small-bore rifle and it went off`. The old story. He didn’t know it was loaded. The bullet grazed his forehead and knocked him out. Nothing serious. Another half-inch and he’d have had it. Mr. Zolton didn’t know how bad the wound was so he thought he’d better send for the doctor. All that was needed was a bandage. The doctor has just been along to see if everything was all right.”
“What’s the name of this wounded man?” inquired Ginger.
“He didn’t say.”
“How did the doctor find him?”
“He’s okay. Up and about again. It was only a graze.”
“How lucky can you be?” murmured Ginger.
“I shall have to have a word with Mr. Zolton about that rifle,” the constable said.
“Why?”
“Speaking from memory I don’t think he has a firearms certificate. As you know we’re strict on that sort of thing nowadays.” The policeman put a foot on the pedal of his bicycle. “Well, I must be getting along now.”
“Are you going to see Zolton now?”
“No. There’s no hurry. I’ll speak to him next time I see him in town. He’ll probably wonder how I got to hear about the rifle. Let me know if I can be of any more help. You’ll usually find me at the station or on traffic duty in the town.” The constable went on his way.
Ginger looked at Minnie seriously. “You know
, unless that copper is a bit dim on the uptake, and I don’t think he’s that, he must be wondering what the deuce we’re doing, hanging about here. Be funny if he decided to keep an eye on us. Anyhow, it was a bit of luck we met him. He’s told us just what we wanted to know. Or one of the things. The man who was shot wasn’t killed after all. Not only that, but apparently he’s already on his feet.”
“I’m surprised Zolton bothered to send for the doctor,” mused Minnie.
“I think I could guess the answer to that,” returned Ginger. “He didn’t know how badly the man was hurt and was anxious to keep him alive. Dead, he’d be no use. Alive, he’d be able to talk. Zolton must still believe he knows what happened to the stolen mail. That’s assuming, as Biggles does, that he was in the cockpit of the plane that dumped the bag in the wood. Let’s move on a bit to see what there is to be seen on the far side of the house.”
“What are you expecting to see?”
“I haven’t a clue. Your guess is as good as mine. We know that the man who was shot was taken to the Hall, so it could be that at the present moment Zolton or some of the gang are putting the heat on him to get him to talk.”
“I wonder how much he does know. From the way he behaved yesterday it can’t be much. We know more about what happened to the mail than he does.”
“What I’d like to know is, what those toughs are thinking about us,” Ginger said. “They must have realised by now that we weren’t in the wood yesterday to look for nuts or blackberries.”
Nothing more was said. They moved on a little way. Ginger stopped. Climbing the low grass bank he looked over the hedge. In a moment he was down again.
“What is it?” asked Minnie quickly, realising that Ginger must have seen something.
“They’re on their way to the spinney now,” informed Ginger tersely. “Or that’s what it looks like.”
“Who?”
“The whole bunch of ‘em. Four men. The three we saw in the wood yesterday and a short little fellow who might be Zolton. The R.A.F. type appears to have a bandage round his head. Which confirms what the constable has just told us. It could be they’re taking him to the spinney to make him produce the swag.”
“That lets us out,” stated Minnie. “Bertie will be there by now. He’ll see what they get up to.”
Ginger hesitated. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said, doubtfully.
“They’re a dangerous lot, as we have reason to know. If they bump into Bertie there could be trouble, and he’d be one against four. At least one carries a gun. I don’t like it.”
“I can see that; but what can we do about it?”
“I think one of us at least should go to the spinney to make sure Bertie comes to no harm.”
Minnie replied. “I’d have thought this would have been our opportunity to look round the house while we know the people are out. There’s nothing to stop us.”
“Don’t forget the dogs.”
“They’ll be in the kennels.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“It shouldn’t take us long to find out.”
The argument went on for another minute. Then a compromise was reached. This was to follow up both possibilities. Ginger would reconnoitre the spinney to check that Bertie was not in need of support. While he was away Minnie would explore the outside of the Hall for clues that would help to confirm Biggles’ suspicions that in some way it was involved in the mail robbery.
So it was left. It seemed a reasonable arrangement without any great risk in either direction.
Ginger walked on down the road to the junction of the hedge which went off at right angles to the spinney. This he thought should enable him to reach the little wood unobserved by anyone. The party he had seen making its way towards it from the Hall was now out of sight, having already reached the same objective as his own. He glanced up and down the road. Minnie was striding in the opposite direction to return to the wild-garden area of shrubs that had already been noted. There was a certain amount of traffic on the road, mostly private cars with an occasional commercial vehicle, but as it was not concerned with him he took no notice of it.
He climbed a convenient gate and set off along the hedge.
The spinney was now in plain view about a quarter of a mile ahead. He walked with his eyes on it but without taking any particular precautions, seeing, so far, no reason to do so. Should he be seen he would be taken for a casual rambler. Or so he hoped. He was more concerned with avoiding long grass that was still soaking wet with dew. Naturally, he kept his eyes as far as possible on the edge of the spinney for signs of human activity. He saw none.
Content with this state of affairs he pressed on.
Chapter Ten
Ginger had reached to within twenty to thirty yards of the edge of the spinney, and was looking for the easiest way to enter it, when he was brought to an abrupt halt by a resounding crash somewhere in the wood. It sounded as if a tree had fallen, as in fact, as we know, it had. It struck Ginger as a little odd that it should choose this moment, when there was hardly a breath of wind, to fall; but beyond hoping that Bertie was not under it when it came down he decided that it did not interfere with what he was doing so he moved on.
Drawing closer he paused again when he thought he heard the sound of voices; but knowing there were men in the wood this was understandable. It merely served to warn him to exercise extreme caution, which he did, taking care not to crack any dead sticks by treading on them.
He made contact with the fringe of the spinney at a point he had never before seen, and was disconcerted to find it thick with close-growing hazel shrubs through which it would obviously be next to impossible to force a passage without a certain amount of noise. This he was more than ever anxious to avoid, as his purpose now was to get close enough to the voices to ascertain if Bertie’s was among them.
No doubt the cautious silence with which he moved was largely responsible for what followed. Finding a thin place in the hazels that offered a fairly easy passage he had moved up to it when he was startled by sounds of someone approaching in a great hurry. Running of footsteps and panting breath. Before he could move aside or take any sort of evasive action a man burst through the bushes in such haste that they came into collision with a force that sent them both reeling. In fact, the newcomer lost his balance and fell. For a moment he lay on the ground, resting on one hand, gasping for breath.
Recovering from the shock Ginger gathered himself together to ask the man in no uncertain terms what he was doing, charging about like a mad bull. But words died on his lips when he saw who it was. He had seen him before. It was the man who sported an R.A.F. tie. He now wore a bandage round his forehead, and, of course, after what he had been told, Ginger knew why.
By this time the man had scrambled to his feet. “Get me out of here,” he blurted with desperate urgency. “If you will I’ll tell you something that’ll make it worth your while.”
“What’s the hurry?” inquired Ginger, although he had a pretty good idea. _
“They’re after me.”
“Who’s after you?”
“Never mind. They’ll kill me if they catch me. I’ve got to get away.”
“Who’s going to kill you?”
“The people I work for.”
“What have you done to them? Double-crossed them, or something?”
“No. I’ve told them the truth but they won’t believe me.”
“Something to do with that kitbag?” prompted Ginger.
The man’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about it?”
“Maybe more than you think.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Could be.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about it if you’ll help me to get away from here,” promised the man, still in a state approaching panic.
“How do you suppose I can help you?”
“I expect you’ve got a car somewhere handy.”
Ginger shook his
head. “Nothing doing. I’m due to meet a friend o mine here.”
“Do you mean a feller with an eyeglass?”
“Yes. Why? Have you seen him?”
“Too true. You’d better forget about him.”
“Why?”
“They’ve got him.”
“Who’s got him?”
“The people I’ve been talking about. They’re a bunch of crooks.”
“What are they doing with him?”
“I dunno. I didn’t wait to see. Your pal was sitting in a tree. The tree came down. Nearly fell on us. That’s how I got away. Took a chance and bolted. They’ll be after me so I’m off.” The man prepared to resume his flight.
“Just a minute,” Ginger said tersely. “Maybe I can help you, if you’ll answer some questions for me later.”
“Anything you say. But buck up. They’ll be here any minute.”
“All right. Don’t lose your head.”
“I’ll lose my life if they catch me. They’ve already had one go, as you can see from this bandage.”
Ginger looked at his watch. It was just on noon. Would Biggles come, as he said he might. He didn’t know. But he thought it would be a good thing if he heard what this man had to say. Bertie should take no harm for a little while. “All right,” he said shortly. “If I help you to get clear of this mob will you play straight and tell me the truth about this business?”
“I’ve said so. I’ve had enough.”
“All right then. To start with, what’s your name?”
“Varley.”
“Come on. This way. I’ve got a car handy.” Ginger set off at a run back along the hedge.
They reached the road without interference. Here Ginger turned to the right, and steadying the pace kept on for where Bertie had said he would leave his car. “Now, what’s all this fuss about?” he asked, as they strode on.
“I can tell you in two words,” was the answer. “Gang warfare.”
“How many gangs?”
“Two.”
“And what’s the racket?”
Biggles Does Some Homework Page 8
