"I see," said Biggles slowly. "Brigham, I think you've got something there. What you've just said clears away a lot of the mystery that was puzzling me."
"These negroes here—there are nine or ten of 'em—are Durango's men," went on Brigham. "He must have brought them with 'im as a sort of bodyguard when 'e had ter beat it out of Mexico. Durango's half a negro 'imself, yet they boss it about 'ere as if they owned the earth, the dirty lot of skunks. If yer laid a finger on one the others got out their whips."
Bertie put a word in. "Well, you've certainly laid more than a finger on them this time, yes, by gad ! " Mrs. Clarke looked up. "I suppose they'll call this murder ? "
Biggles smiled grimly. "They can call it what they like. If ever I saw a case of justifiable homicide, this was it, and I'll swear to that in court—if it ever comes to a court case, which somehow I don't think it will. I fancy most of the people here would prefer to keep outside a court-room. As far as this pair of ruffians is concerned I think you'd better bury them right away."
Joe looked at Biggles. "We could plant 'em behind that big patch of cactus, just outside."
"All right," agreed Biggles. "You could put the ponies there as well for the time being.
Get a move on because I want to talk to you two fellows." He turned to Mrs. Clarke. "
Did that brute hurt you very much ? You behaved like a brick."
"I'm all right," answered Mrs. Clarke. "You don't think I'd stand here and watch those two drunken devils maul you about ? "
Brigham touched Joe on the arm. "Come on. Let's get the job done before it gets dark.
We haven't much time left."
"Give them a hand, Bertie," ordered Biggles. "Ginger, you' d better mount guard. We may have more visitors. You can stand in the doorway and tell me the news at the same time."
The gruesome task began. Ginger, standing in the doorway, told Biggles of the events that had occurred since they last saw each other. Biggles in turn gave Ginger a brief resume of his own adventures. This took some time, and before they had finished talking darkness had fallen. Bertie came back into the room with Joe and Brigham, to report that they had finished their unpleasant task. "What next ? " he inquired. " Algy will be bursting into another perspiration if we stay away much longer."
Mrs. Clarke lighted a smoky oil lamp, stood it on the table and set about rekindling the fire, which had gone out,
saying that she would make some mate* in lieu of tea, which could not be obtained in the valley.
The feeble yellow glow emanating from the lamp was just enough to illuminate a setting that was in keeping with the best traditions of conspiracy, and singularly appropriate to the discussion that followed : the crude shack with its rough adobe walls from which the original coat of whitewash, smoke-blackened round the fireplace, was peeling in long untidy strips ; the rude furniture standing about the earthen floor, with a sinister stain beginning to seep through the shovelful of sand that Joe had thrown on it; Biggles, looking ill after his ordeal, propped up on the rough palliasse; Joe and Brigham, emaciated, ragged, unkempt, unshaven, watching Biggles with expressions dour and grim, eyes dark and deep set in faces from which hope had long been abandoned ; Lil, Clarke's wife, hair dishevelled, a wild defiant look about her as she stood with arms akimbo watching the flickering fire ; Bertie, monocle in eye, smoke curling from a cigarette between his lips, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, a pistol dangling loosely in his right hand ; and Ginger, a mere silhouette against a rectangle of dark blue as he stood in the doorway gazing out across the moonlit savannah. Behind him, in the near distance, the uncouth sagueros* which now guarded a dark secret rose stark against the sky. Moths and other insects, attracted by the light, drifted in to destroy themselves with dreadful deliberation against the fatal beacon that had lured them to their doom.
"Now listen, everybody," began Biggles quietly. "Either the Valley of Paradise is finished or we are. The time has come for a show-down. That is inevitable now that Liebgarten and company know that I've got their secret pretty well buttoned up. If we don't strike at them they'll strike at us—at my party on account of what we know, and at the rest of you because two of their negroes have been killed. Search parties are out looking for us. We, to save
* Mate, a South America form of tea. t Sagueros, a giant form of cactus.
ourselves, must strike first, and we haven't long to do it. We may have more visitors at any moment. Once we are located the chances will be against us. The hut will be surrounded and anyone trying to get out will be shot. If we strike first the odds will be with us. When I say strike I don't mean that literally. I doubt if the law would approve of us crashing in on Liebgarten and shooting the place up without warning. It is true we might bolt in the aircraft that I have here ; but there are others to consider, and we should be a pretty poor lot if we abandoned them. Again, what about the money you fellows have invested in this bare-faced swindle ? I am supposing, of course, that you have all had enough of it ? "
"I'd had enough before I'd been here a week," asserted Joe.
"And me," growled Brigham.
"But I say, old boy, if you're not going to attack Liebgarten and you're not going to waffle along home, what are you going to do—if you see what I mean ? "inquired Bertie.
"What I am going to do is this, provided I can get everyone who wants to go home to co-operate," answered Biggles. "I shall muster the strongest force I can raise. We shall then march to the house where I shall present Liebgarten with an ultimatum. It will demand the return of the money of those who want to go, and the use of the launch for transport down the river. If he agrees, so well and good. If he refuses, then we shall take what we want and go anyway. If Liebgarten resists by employing physical force he will have struck the first blow, in which case we should be justified in protecting ourselves by force of arms."
"But we ain't got no arms," put in Joe.
"Oh yes, we have," asserted Biggles. "I took an opportunity of emptying their armoury. I have several rifles, guns and pistols, hidden in the river, with a fair quantity of ammunition. When we leave here our first step will be to recover those weapons in order to arm our party."
"By gad! That's marvellous—absolutely marvellous," congratulated Bertie. "This is going to be fun."
"Possibly, but I doubt it," murmured Biggles drily. "Now Joe, I want you to tell me how many British there are in the valley who want to go home."
"Everybody wants to go home, but they ain't all British," answered Joe.
"For the time being we'll stick to those we can trust. How many English speaking are there ? "
Joe made a quick calculation. "I make it ten British, including Louis—he's a French Canadian. Digger Saxby is an Australian, and Pete Vandall is a South African. Call it ten altogether—or twelve with me and Brigham."
"That's fine," said Biggles. "The Empire seems to be nicely represented. We'll show this bunch of crooks what we can do when we get together."
Brigham looked at Joe. "What about the two Yanks who live close to me ? They're all right."
"Let's have them in the party by all means," decided Biggles. "That makes fourteen, which should be enough. Now, tell me, Joe, how many of these chaps have wives with them ? "
Joe gazed at the ceiling. "Let's see . . . Carson's wife died last week so she don't count, but the baby's still alive. I make it five wives six counting Lil. Some of 'em have youngsters, but I dunno exactly 'ow many. Which reminds me, there's Mrs. Harboard.
Her husband was a real toff. He's dead, but she's got a couple of nippers. She's been tryin'
ter carry on alone."
"Do all these people live reasonably close ? " was Biggles' next question.
" Within a couple o' miles."
"All right," said Biggles briskly. "That's enough to go on with. We'll leave the others out of it for the time being. Now Joe, I'll tell you what I want you and Brigham to do. You know your way about. I want you to make a quick round-up. Split the area between you.
> Bring all these people here—husbands, wives and children. Don't say too much. Simply ask them if they want to go home, and if they say yes, tell them to pack anything they want to take with them and muster here as quickly as possible. I aim to move off at four o'clock, so that should give you plenty of time. By the way, have any of these fellows been soldiers ? "
"Most of 'em, I think," replied Joe. "Like me, it was because they didn't know what ter do after they was demobbed that they came 'ere."
"Suppose Liebgarten agrees to this evacuation, are you going to leave him and his gang here ? " asked Ginger from the door.
"Of course," returned Biggles. "There's nothing else we can do. We've no legal right to push them off what I imagine is their own property. Naturally, I shall make a report to the authorities when we get out ; they may do something _about it. All right, you fellows, get going. Try not to be seen, and warn everyone to do the same. Don't forget there may be searchers out."
Joe and Brigham went off.
"What about Algy and Angus ? " asked Ginger.
"There's nothing we can do about them for the moment," answered Biggles. "You say it's impossible to get through the forest at night so they'll have to stay where they are until it gets light. By that time the show should be settled one way or the other."
XVI
THE GATHERING OF THE CLANS
IN twenty minutes the first of the refugees arrived. He introduced himself as Ivor Jones, one time of Cardiff and an ex-corporal of the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. He brought no luggage, but carried a slashing hook such as is used for hedging. He looked at Biggles, Bertie and Ginger, in no small astonishment when he walked in. He was told to sit down and make himself comfortable.
Others began to drift in and Biggles did not trouble to ask their names, which probably he would not remember. Two men came with their wives ; one had a small boy of about seven. Mrs. Harboard, with her two children, looking frail and tired, came next. And so it went on. Biggles had a word with them as they arrived, saying they would know what it was all about when the party was complete.
The room began to fill, and the floor was soon strewn with bundles containing the refugees' worldly goods, mostly tied up in old blankets although there were one or two battered suitcases. Louis, the French Canadian, strode in, excited and volable, ready—as he said—to mop up the whole works. Digger Saxby and the two Americans came in together, from the same area ; tall, lean and burning for action, they were a tough looking trio, and, thought Biggles, as his eyes ran over them, a useful addition to his force.
At two o'clock Joe Clarke came back to say that he had finished his round and not one of those on whom he had called had elected to stay. Shortly afterwards Brigham appeared carrying a baby under one arm and supporting its mother with the other. He reported that two of the men were down with fever and too ill to move.
By three o'clock the tally was complete and the little room presented a spectacle which none present was ever likely to forget. The women sat together while the men squatted round the walls, saying little, some looking bewildered by this sudden and unusual event.
All showed signs of what they had suffered ; in some cases their vitality had been so sapped by fever that they were inclined to be apathetic. Two men and one of the women were obviously sick even then, and in no condition to travel far ; but they had refused to be left behind. Mrs. Clarke handed round chipped enamel mugs of mate. Before doing this she had arranged Biggles' left arm in a sling saying that it would be more comfortable that way, While they were waiting
Joe asked him how it was, and on receiving Biggles' reply that it was much better, told him he was lucky.
"I've known a tarantula bite to take months to get right," he asserted. "I reckon it all depends on the state of yer blood. You ain't bin 'ere long enough fer the dimate to affect you. After a few months here you can't get a wound ter 'eal. We've had several fellers die from snake bite."
At a quarter to four, Biggles, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed so that he faced the assembled company, called for attention. Silence fell, and all eyes were turned on him as he stated his name and described in a few words how the state of things in the valley had reached him through Linton, and of his decision to fetch his friend, Angus Mackail. " Naturally," he went on, "I didn't like leaving without giving anyone else who has had enough of this place the opportunity to come along. Please understand that I'm not trying to persuade anyone to leave ; but if you've had enough this may be your chance to get out. Now then : is there anyone here who wants to stay ? "
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke.
"Then I take it you all want to go ? "
There was a unaminous chorus of assent. "Do we look as if we wanted to stay ? " said one of the women bitterly.
"The next point I must make clear is this," continued Biggles. "There may be some trouble about your departure. I mean, the people who are running this racket will try to prevent it. . . . If there is anyone here not prepared to accept the risk of being hurt let him say so now. There's still plenty of time to withdraw."
Nobody spoke.
"Very well, then," resumed Biggles. "Is there any man here not prepared to put up a fight for his freedom should it come to war between us and the Liebgarten party ? "
Only one man answered—Digger, the Australian. "I'm burning to get at those dingos, but what are we going to fight with ? "
"Weapons that I shall provide you with," replied Biggles.
"They're not mine. They belong to Liebgarten and his friends. They were in the armoury in the bungalow. I've put them where we can get at them. Not only shall we have the benefit of them, but we shall deny the enemy the use of them. By the way, in case you don't know it, Liebgarten isn't the head man here. The real boss is a man named Stitzen.
Just who he is and what he is I don't know, but he's the big noise behind this Paradise Valley outfit."
"I guess I can tell you who he is," drawled a voice.
Moving his eyes Biggles saw that one of the Americans had spoken, a raw-boned Texan who had given his name as Cyrus Walden
"Yes, Cy, and who is he ? " asked Biggles casually, little expecting what was coming.
" Stitzen's an Austrian doctor who was lent by the Nazis to the Japanese government to carry out research work in tropical diseases. That was before Pearl Harbour."
Biggles' eyes opened wide in astonishment. "How on earth did you learn that ? "
"In the war I was in the U.S. Signal Corps," explained Cy. "Some of the messages about Stitzen passed through my hands—that's if he's the same man, and in view of what he's doing here I reckon he is. The description fits, anyway."
"What is he doing here ? " demanded Biggles, with mounting amazement.
"Carrying on his experiments in tropical diseases and using human beings for guinea-pigs," was the sensational answer. "That's what he was doing in the war. Our people wanted him because he'd been working on American prisoners. When we broke in he couldn't be found. Somehow he must have got here. Naturally, I didn't know that till I arrived, and then it was too late for me to do anything about it."
This revelation lifted a curtain from Biggles' eyes. And from Ginger's. He understood now the remark he had overheard about experiments, when he made his first trip to try to contact Algy.
"Do you mean to say," asked Biggles slowly, "that Stitzen has been experimenting on people here ? "
"I've no proof, but I'm pretty sure of it," answered Cy. "What was to stop him ? After I learned his name, I reckoned I had it figured out why he was always ready to hand out medical attention—the only thing here that was free. I kept an eye on some of his patients and I didn't like the way some of them died after he'd stuck a needle into them.
There was nothing I could do about it so I kept my mouth shut or maybe I should have got a shot of the same dope next time I went down with fever. That skunk's killed more patients than he's cured, I can tell you that."
There was a general murmur of confirmation.
" I see," said Biggles quietly. "It looks as if we shall have to take care of Stitzen in due course. For the moment our job is to see about getting out—or seeing about getting the women out, at any rate. Once we start we've got to go on, because if our scheme fails it's going to be a bad business for anybody left alive in the valley. But time's getting on. We ought to be moving. We've got a pretty strong force ; most of you have been soldiers so we ought to be able to handle the opposition, which consists, as far as I can make out, of about fourteen men, including Colonel Durango's black supporters. It's unlikely that they'
ll be together ; some of them will be out looking for me ; I don't think they'll be prepared for a force the size of ours, so we should catch them on one foot. All right. Let's be going. I want all the men to line up outside in single file. The women and kids will wait here until they're sent for. My plan is to march straight to the river, to the place where I'
ve hidden the guns. If anyone tries to interfere with us on the way—well, he'll find he's bitten off more than he can chew. No talking. It may save a lot of trouble if we can catch the enemy napping. I shall lead the party, but I want a man who knows every inch of the ground to come with me as a guide."
"That'll be me," said Joe. "I know every stone between here and the river."
"Okay, if you say so," agreed Biggles. "Let's go."
Within a minute the men had lined up outside in a manner which showed that they had not forgotten their military training. Joe, who was with Biggles, looked at his bandaged arm and made a suggestion so sensible that Biggles adopted it.
35 Biggles Takes A Holiday Page 17
