This line of conversation ultimately led to a sequel which Ginger, 'at any rate, certainly did not expect. After holding forth for some time on the practibility of the scheme the Doctor looked straight at Biggles and said : "Of course, what I really need here is a few people like you." He spoke so earnestly that the remark could only be taken seriously.
Biggles stared, obviously taken aback. "Like me ! Why me ? "
"Because I can see you have what it takes in a venture where drive and initiative are essential," announced the Doctor calmly. He then astonished Ginger by going on to suggest that Biggles might like to become an active partner in the scheme. However, the catch was soon disclosed. "Of course," went on the Doctor," as you would eventually derive substantial benefit it would be only right at this stage for you to make a financial subscription."
" Ah, there you have me," said Biggles sorrowfully. "I'm a poor man. What would I do here, anyway ? I'm nothing for digging."
The Doctor switched to another track, one which gave Ginger a qualm of uneasiness. "
One of the weaknesses of the project is the question of transport," stated the Doctor. "
With quick efficient transport it would be a different proposition."
Biggles did not deny a truth so obvious. "What are you thinking of—a good road, or water transport ? " he asked casually.
"Neither," replied the Doctor. " I was thinking of aircraft. I imagine there is plenty of room here for an airfield. It might be the remedy."
Biggles did not answer at once. Ginger, watching him, felt that they were getting on dangerous ground.
"Yes, I suppose an air link with civilisation would relieve many of your difficulties,"
conceded Biggles. Then he laughed lightly. "You're not by any chance suggesting that I organise a private air line for you ? "
" Why not ? "
"What do I know about aircraft ? " asked Biggles plaintively. "What gave you the idea that I could undertake a job like that ? " -
"Nothing in particular. Someone will have to do it one day. The appointment would carry a useful salary."
Biggles smiled and shook his head. "Then you had better get someone better qualified than I am, or it might cost you a pretty penny."
Ginger looked at the Doctor. Was this talk accidental ? he wondered, or had Liebgarten deliberately led up to it ? That there was a purpose behind it he did not doubt, but it was not easy to see just what it was. The Doctor's eyes betrayed no secrets.
The Doctor went off on another track, one that was even more difficult to keep up with than the last. He began by saying that he assumed they would stay the night, at least.
Biggles accepted the invitation.
"What puzzles me," said the Doctor, "is how you were hoping to manage until you met me. I mean, what could you have done had I not been here ? "
"Oh, we should have managed somehow," returned Biggles carelessly.
"You would not have been very comfortable, I assure you. You arrive here with absolutely nothing in the way of stores, food, a change of clothes, not even toilet things or a suit of pyjamas. Did you expect to find an hotel ? "
"I expected to find a rest-house, if nothing better," replied Biggles. "I half expected to find a civilised community. Mackail was here. Obviously, there was somewhere to stay or he wouldn't have stayed. I thought he might be able to put us up. As for kit, well, I always travel light. Luggage is a nuisance at any time."
"It can be highly inconvenient to arrive hundreds of miles from anywhere with nothing at all," asserted the Doctor with undeniable logic. "You haven't even any weapons. What would have happened had you been attacked by Indians ? "
"We weren't," Biggles pointed out.
"You might have been. You might still be. You aren't home yet."
Biggles shrugged. "In that case I'm afraid we should have looked rather silly."
"My dear sir, people who die from the results of a poisoned arrow look anything but silly," stated the Doctor grimly.
"Well, it hasn't happened so far," argued Biggles. "I prefer to deal with a situation when it arises."
"The man who gets through is the one who anticipates."
" So I've been told," murmured Biggles, who knew quite well that the Doctor was merely trying to pump him to find out how they had got there and if they were armed. He closed the conversation by suggesting that a bath would be acceptable, if it could be arranged.
The Doctor said it could, and to Ginger's great relief the party broke up. He had found the conversation rather a strain on the nerves. It had been too much like an interrogation.
The Doctor clapped his hands for the steward and told him to show the guests to their rooms, where, anticipating Biggles' acceptance, night attire had been laid out.
Ginger did not fail to notice that in the matter of rooms the Doctor had spoken in the plural, which told him that they were to be separated. He would have preferred to share the one room, but as this was not to be he could only hope that their rooms were not far apart.
They were, as he presently learned, next to each other, with a bathroom adjacent. He found a suit of silk pyjamas laid out on the bed under half-drawn mosquito curtains. A dressing gown lay beside them. Undressing, he slipped this on and lost no time in visiting Biggles in his room.
"Phew I "he began. "This is getting warm."
"Yes, things are hotting up a bit," answered Biggles, who had started to undress. "What's your news ? "
"First of all, give me your honest opinion about Angus," said Ginger. "Do you really think he's dead ? "
"I don't know. We haven't a scrap of evidence to prove that he is or is not. We've got to find out, and that isn't going to be easy."
"Then you think there's a doubt about it ? "
"All we have at present is Lie bgarten's bare word, and while on this occasion he may be telling the truth, his word is about as reliable as a damp cartridge. Make no mistake, that gentleman is as slippery as a live eel in a bucket of oil."
"But he's willing to let us see the grave."
Biggles shrugged a contemptuous shoulder. "What does a grave prove ? Nothing! When I said I wanted to see it he stalled me off until tomorrow."
"It was nearly dark. That was the reason. There was no lie about that."
"That was the reason he gave, but there might be another."
"Such as ? "
"At the time we were talking there might not have been a grave to see. There will be one by tomorrow morning, though, you can bet your sweet life on that."
"You mean he'll fake one ? "
"What could be easier ? I can see only one ray of hope, and it's this. As I figure it out, had Angus been dead when Liebgarten broke the news he would have insisted on us seeing the body ; he wouldn't have waited for me to ask ; the corpse would have proved his statement beyond any shadow of doubt. When I said I wanted to see the body he had to fake a tale on the spur of the moment."
"His explanation seemed reasonable enough."
"He's an expert at explanations."
"But in the tropics it is customary to bury a body—"
"I know—I know," broke in Biggles impatiently. "But I can't help feeling that if he had a body to show he'd have shown it. He would have kept it above ground long enough for us to see it. A few minutes wouldn't have mattered. He wants us to think that Angus is dead, that's certain. Why ? Because when we're satisfied of that we may depart and leave him and his perishing valley to get on with
whatever is going on here. Surely you're not such a fool as to imagine that he wants us here, are you ? " Biggles' arcasm was biting.
"Would you go if you were sure Angus was dead ? " " No."
"Why not ? "
In the first place because I'm as certain as I stand here that Angus was alive when we arrived. They may have hidden him somewhere, or, as a more effective way of disposing of him, they may really have killed him. It was one or the other. If he's alive, then I'm staying here till I find him. If he's dead, then I'm staying anyway, st
aying until the skunk who murdered him is dangling on the end of a rope. Secondly, there are these other poor devils to consider—Britishers, some of them. Finally, I'm not leaving until I find out what is actually going on here."
"That's okay with me," agreed Ginger. "In view of what you say there doesn't seem to be much point in going to the grave tomorrow morning."
"No point at all—except that we shall know where it's supposed to be. To start digging would be as good as telling the Doctor we think he's a liar. I'm ready to do that when the time comes because I'm sure he is ; but that time isn't yet, because to open hostilities won't make our task any easier. I came here to find Angus, and I'm not going until I've seen him, alive or dead. The grave we shall be shown in the morning is probably being dug at this very moment. Who will dig it ? Not a white man. More likely one of the Doctor's negro servants, who must be in his confidence ; and if I know anything about black labour no more work will be done than is absolutely necessary. No. Coincidence can be a queer thing, but to ask me to believe that Angus died on the very day of our arrival is stretching it too far. I'll have to think about our next move. Meanwhile, what about this news of yours ? Does it throw any light on what we've been talking about ? "
"It might, although I can't see how," answered Ginger, who then went on to tell the story of his trip down the
river and explain why he had missed Algy. He repeated word for word the conversation he had overheard, as near as he could remember it.
Biggles heard him out. Then he said : "You realise what the first result of this will be ? "
" No—what ? "
"When we don't turn up at the rendezvous in the morning, the next thing we shall have will be Bertie or Algy on the prowl, looking for us."
"That should fairly rock the Doctor on his heels," declared Ginger. "He'll think his hideout is becoming a riverside lido."
"We may get rocked, too, if he realises we're in a party." "What's to prevent us from getting up early and meeting the aircraft ? "
"That might be a good move," admitted Biggles. " think it over and let you know at bedtime. We must contact Algy if only to prevent him from getting upset if we're here for a long time, as we may be. We might even pretend to take Liebgarten's word for it that Angus is dead, and push off, and then slip back to do a spot of serious scouting. If he thinks we've gone he might do something to give us a clue to his real business. I'll think about that, though. It's time one of us got in the bath or they may wonder what we're doing."
"One last thing," said Ginger tersely. "The conversation I heard. Does it suggest anything to you ? "
"Not a lot. It might mean anything. It might be dangerous to try guessing at this stage.
Apparently the Doctor's handling of us has been approved by the Big Boss—whoever he may be. He's been told to carry on. The engine you heard was probably the electric light plant. They must have one, because the house is lighted by electricity. We'll talk about that conversation again later on. It may hook up with something. If the Big Boss is anxious to see us—well, that suits me fine. Who's this fellow Erich I wonder ? Erich . . .
he'll be a German. It's a common German christian name. I wonder . . . no, it couldn't be .
. . not here." Biggles thought for a moment. "I think the most important part of the information you picked up was not so much what you heard as the number of people at the conference. What are they all doing ? There must be at least half a dozen of them in it.
Something pretty big must be going on. If we could get a description of these people to the Yard, Raymond might identify some of them and so give us a line on the racket. But we'll talk about this later. Go and get in your bath. I'll join you ready to go down in about a quarter of an hour."
Ginger had a quick bath and returned to his room. Deep in thought he started dressing.
He had left his door ajar so that he could hear Biggles in the bath and so judge when he would be ready to go down. He finished dressing, and while he was waiting he had a sudden feeling that he had forgotten something—had lost something. Something was different. His clothes did not feel quite the same. He ran his hands over them. As his right hand crossed his hip pocket he stopped suddenly. He knew what it was. His automatic was no longer there. For a moment he stood still, trying to work out the full purport of his loss. Then he hurried to Biggles' room. He went straight to his trousers, which had been thrown over the back of a chair. His hand went to the hip pocket. It was empty.
At that moment Biggles came in. One glance at Ginger's face and he said curtly. "What's wrong ? "
"They've got our guns," Ginger told him.
Biggles' lips came together in a hard line. "It looks as if the Doctor's won the second trick," he said slowly. "I suppose we should have taken our clothes to the bathroom, but somehow I didn't think the Doctor would try anything like that—yet. It's as good as a declaration of war. Okay, if that's how he wants it. So that's why he gave us dressing gowns. Say nothing about this. I'll be with you in a jiffy."
Five minutes later they went down the stairs together to rejoin the Doctor in the lounge.
They knew he was
there because they could hear his voice, which, at the same time, told them that he was not alone.
"It sounds as if Erich has arrived," murmured Biggles as he opened the door.
They went in.
The Doctor saw them at once and rose to meet them. His face was all smiles. " Ah I There you are," he greeted, with more than usual cheerfulness. "You'll be delighted to know that an old friend of yours has just arrived—at least, he tells me that he once knew you very well. He's been telling me some of your adventures. He's so looking forward to meeting you again."
With that the second man, who had been sitting with his back rowards them, rose and turned ; a tall, well-dressed man, rather thin, good-looking in an austere way, with a monocle in his eye. In his right hand he held a cigarette in a long holder. His left hand was occupied with a walking stick on which he leaned heavily.
"Hello, Bigglesworth," he said, smiling curiously. "So we meet again, eh ? What a small place the world is, to be sure."
Ginger's heart gave a lurch. It seemed to go cold. The Doctor had not lied. He knew the man, knew him well—too well. So this was Erich, he thought bitterly ; Hauptmann Erich von Stalhein, a soldier of the old Prussian military caste, one time high:spot of German Military Intelligence after a serious leg wound had put him off the Active List ; in more recent times one of the shrewdest "back-room boys" of the Gestapo. They had met before, often enough for Ginger to know that under the greying hair, behind the cold blue eyes and aristocratic features, were some of the most astute brains in Germany. Ginger's stomach went down like a lift. If von Stalhein had been talking to the Doctor then the game was up.
Biggles had walked on as if nothing unusual had happened. "Yes," he agreed, "the world is a small place, and it's getting smaller, apparently. Who would have thought of meeting you here ? "
"Who would have thought of meeting you ? " parried on Stalhein lightly.
" I've often wondered what happened to you," said Biggles, as if he really meant it.
"I didn't have to wonder about you," returned von Stalhein. "Your name was constantly brought to my notice. I have watched your career with professional interest—and, if the truth must be told, with admiration. You are the living proof of the classic belief that those who live dangerously, live longest."
"I hope to maintain that tradition," answered Biggles, smiling faintly.
Everything must come to an end, you know," murmured von Stalhein sadly.
"True enough," admitted Biggles. "But I would almost feel sorry if anything happened to you. For a long time you were the one bright star in a gloomy sky. I was sorry to learn, though, that you had got tangled up with Hitler."
Von Stalhein waved his cigarette holder. " Pah ! That fellow Germany meant more to me than Hitler. It still does, for that matter."
Biggles looked his old antagonist straight in t
he eyes. "Then why don't you get back where you belong and try to sort out the mess you helped to make ? "
"The answer is simple," returned von Stalhein quietly. "I have no desire to end my life at the end of a rope, as did the other poor fools who hadn't the wit to make provision against such a melancholy fate."
Biggles nodded. "So that's why you came here ? " "One of the. reasons."
The Doctor stepped into the conversation. "Why are we all standing ? " he lamented. "
Please sit down, gentlemen. We have so much to talk about."
As Ginger sank into a chair he felt that this was another of the rare occasions wherein the Doctor could afford to tell the truth.
IX
BIGGLES TURNS THE TABLE
THE scene, as it was set, was like a play, thought Ginger, as he looked around ; and although he was one of the players he could not remotely guess what the climax was to be. That such an act could not end without a dramatic climax was certain, and he was afraid, very much afraid, that it would be one in which the villains of the piece would be left holding the stage. Everything was in their favour, and Biggles could not be blamed for that. Clairvoyancy, a faculty to which Biggles laid no claim, would have been necessary to visualise the arrival of the very man from which they had most to fear.
Apart from the present situation, von Stalhein had old scores to wipe out. It was, pondered Ginger gloomily, one of those fantastic things which that soulless magician, Chance, delights to pull out of the hat to confound those who do not treat her with respect.
The Doctor resumed his seat, as did von Stalhein. Each kept a hand in a side pocket, Ginger noticed. Biggles seemed more particular about where he sat, for having apparently given the matter some thought he moved a chair to within the radius of light cast by a tall, wrought-iron, standard electric lamp, which provided the only light in the room. As is customary, it had been placed near the table so that the full benefit of the light it gave fell on that piece of furniture, with its silver cigarette-box, ash-trays, glasses and an elegant decanter. At last, as if satisfied, Biggles sat down opposite von Stalhein, which left Ginger facing the Doctor, with the table in the middle.
35 Biggles Takes A Holiday Page 9
