39 Biggles Goes To School

by Captain W E Johns

  cordon had been thrown round the county brought small comfort.

  Days passed. The end of the term, and the Christmas holidays were now in sight.

  Rumours flew. All roads and stations were being watched. Dunnage had been seen here, there, and everywhere. But the report that Biggles wanted more than anything to hear, that the man had been caught, did not come. Siggins had been arrested, on a charge of buying and selling game without a licence, but really, as everyone knew, on suspicion of being an accessory after the murder. Later, to Biggles great regret, he was released on bail.

  At the end of another week it was stated that the police were satisfied that Dunnage had left the district ; and on the following day the Head lifted the ban on the school, with the reservation that boys should keep together, stay on the road, and not go far away. He advised Biggles privately that he would be wise not to leave the school just yet, an injunction which Biggles obeyed without protest. If the truth must be told, he was sick of the whole miserable business.

  But when another week had elapsed without any sign of Dunnage in the vicinity, precautions were gradually relaxed and the school drifted back to its old way of life.

  Boys went farther and farther afield without mishap, and Biggles, usually with Smith, from walking a few hundred yards only, slowly extended the range of his excursions.

  Still, they did not leave the road, and behaved generally like Indian scouts on the warpath. There was no affectation about this. Biggles was really worried. He could not forget the expression on Dunnage's face when he uttered his last threat. That the man meant what he said, Biggles did not for a moment doubt.

  The behaviour of Hervey and Brickwell, apparently in their relief of being kept out of the trouble, swung right round. There was no longer any scowling, much less bullying.

  Indeed, they made overtures of friendliness on every possible occasion, offering sweets and the like. Biggles accepted the olive branch, and not only spoke to them, but sometimes walked with them, discussing the situation, which was still the topic on all lips. He told them now the whole story of that fateful afternoon when he had seen them in Foxley Wood, and also, to their consternation, what he had seen at Siggins' back door.

  However, he hastened to reassure them that, as far as he was concerned, the matter was dead and buried. Some good had come of it, anyway, as without that knowledge he would not have bought the pheasant which was now the most important piece of evidence against Dunnage. The unpleasant secret which they alone shared seemed to form a tacit understanding between them.

  One day—it was a half-holiday--Hervey happened to ask : "Where did you and Smith used to hide when me and Bricks chased you ? We could never make out where you went. You just seemed to disappear."

  Biggles smiled. "We hid in a cave," he answered. "A cave ? "

  " Yes."

  "Do you mean you know of a cave near here ? " "Yes. I discovered it by accident,"

  answered Biggles casually.

  " What sort of a cave is it ? "

  "Oh, it's just a hole in a cliff. It doesn't go in very far. I think it must have been made by men digging limestone years ago."

  "A cave, eh ? " put in Brickwell. "Where is it ? " Biggles hesitated.

  "Come on ," urged Hervey. "Be a sport and tell us. After all, you won't need it any more.

  We don't chase you any longer."

  "I think I ought to ask Smith first," returned Biggles. "He's part owner of it." He called to Smith, who was playing conkers not far away. "They want me to show them the cave,"

  he explained.

  "Well, why don't you ? "answered Smith. "I don't care. It's a messy hole, anyway."

  "All right," agreed Biggles.

  "Can I come ? "asked Smith.

  " Of course."

  The four boys set off, all of them glad, really, to have an excuse for a walk. "There is this about it," remarked Smith, "Dunnage won't be likely to find us there."

  In due course the garden gate was reached. Mrs. Grant was not about, so with a certain amount of stealth, which Biggles felt necessary to give colour to such an occasion, he led the way towards the far end of the overgrown garden.

  As soon as he reached the bushes that covered the mouth of the cave he turned to Smith and said : " Somebody's been here since we were here last." Turning to Hervey he explained. "We always pulled a bush into the gap when we went in, and when we came away, so that nobody could see the cave. It made it more secret, if you see what I mean."

  He pointed. "Somebody has pulled the bush out and forgotten to put it back."

  "Probably Mrs. Grant," said Smith carelessly. "After all, it is her garden."

  Biggles nodded. "I suppose you're right." He turned again to Hervey. " Well, there it is.

  You can go in if you like."

  "Aren't you coming ? "

  "No. I've been in hundreds of times. I'll watch to see if Mrs. Grant comes out. She's been awfully decent to us, giving us apples and tea."

  "Who's got any matches ? " asked Hervey.

  They all felt in their pockets, but it so happened that nobody had any matches.

  "What fools we were to come without matches,"

  grumbled Hervey. "We ought to have thought of it." "Well, why didn't you ? " returned Brickwell. "How about you going back to the town to buy a box ? " suggested Hervey.

  "We can bring matches another time," asserted Biggles. "You need a lot to get to the far end. Why don't you go in a little way ? There are no holes or anything to fall in."

  "We'll just have a look now we're here," decided Hervey, and moving forward, accompanied by Brick-well, to the mouth of the cave, he peered in. "Looks pretty gloomy," he threw back over his shoulder. Biggles did not answer. He was standing transfixed, his eyes staring at something on the ground.

  "What's up ? " asked Smith.

  Biggles continued to stare. He pointed to a footmark clearly imprinted in a patch of soft earth.

  With two hobnails missing it was unmistakable. "Dunnage 1" he gasped.

  Hervey and Brickwell had already advanced a few yards into the cave. At Biggles' hiss of warning they turned, and seeing him gesticulating wildly, returned, looking surprised.

  "What's the matter ? " asked Hervey.

  Biggles drew a shuddering breath. "Dunnage—is —in there," he managed to get out. "

  Run ! "

  Without waiting to see if they followed his advice he turned about and streaked up the garden path towards the gate. Reaching it, he paused to throw a glance over his shoulder, and seeing the boys coming, kept on. He was, it must be admitted, badly shaken ; but then, he knew that if Dunnage had seen them he would be the selected victim. After going about a hundred yards, he waited for the others to catch up with him. There was a quick conference.

  "How do you know Dunnage is in there ? " asked Hervey.

  "I saw his footprint. If he isn't in there now he was in there recently. Just imagine—if we'

  d gone in." He shuddered at the thought.

  "I call that an ideal place for a murder," observed Brickwell, with a warmth which Biggles did not feel.

  "What are we going to do ? " asked Smith. "We ought to do something."

  Biggles agreed. "We must let the police know right away."

  "He may have bolted by the time they get here,"

  said Hervey sensibly. "Do you think he heard us ? "

  "He must have heard us unless he was asleep.

  Sounds echo horribly in the cave—don't they, Smith?"

  Smith agreed.

  "I tell you what," decided Biggles. "Two of us stay here and watch and the other two run to the police station."

  "I'll go to the police station," offered Smith instantly, with a nervous glance over his shoulder.

  I'll go with you," said Brickwell.

  "All right," agreed Biggles. "Hervey and I will keep watch to see if he bolts. I don't think he could catch us, if we had a fair start, even if he did see us."

  Smith and Brickwell set off up t
he road at a run.

  "We ought to have told them to tell the police to bring guns," observed Biggles to Hervey. "Dunnage has got a rifle—if he didn't break it over Grimble's head."

  "The police will be all right," said Hervey confidentially. "Fancy Dunnage hanging about here all this time."

  "It just shows," replied Biggles vaguely. "But I can't see we're doing any good standing here. If he bolts he'll keep off the road, so we shan't see him. We ought to get somewhere where we can see the mouth of the cave or, at any rate, the bushes."

  "I'm not going into that garden," declared Hervey emphatically. "No bally fear ! "

  "Nor me," returned Biggles. "I don't think there's any need. If we get over the hedge here, and go up that field, we shall get above the entrance of the cave and ought to be able to look down on it. If Dunnage sees us we can bolt to the golf links. It would take him some time to climb up the bank through that tangle of briars and stinging nettles and things."

  "All right," agreed Hervey.

  Acting on the suggestion they climbed the hedge, and keeping well away from where the ground dropped steeply into the garden, went on for some little distance until Biggles decided they had gone far enough. Then, lying down, they wormed their way forward to a position from which they could overlook the mouth of the cave. Biggles reached it first, and went cold all over as his eyes fell on what he hoped, and was yet afraid, to see.

  Dunnage was standing at the mouth of the cave, in a listening attitude, looking around him. "There he is 1 " breathed Biggles.

  "I can see him," whispered Hervey, who seemed to be choking with excitement. "Doesn't he look awful ? "

  "Frightful. Don't move," whispered Biggles, edging back a little so that only his eyes and the top of his head showed above the grass.

  Presently Dunnage retired into the cave.

  "He must have heard us talking when we were down there," averred Hervey.

  "I think so," answered Biggles in a hollow voice. "I wish the police would come. I'm scared stiff." "So am I."

  Nothing more was said for a time. Both boys lay still, watching. Dunnage did not reappear. After a little while Biggles moved his position to what he thought was a better one, behind a big lump of rock, one of several that lay about. "We know he's still there, and that's something," remarked Hervey.

  "Yes. That's something," agreed Biggles. "Hark!" He turned his head in the direction of the road, which could not be seen, but from which came a steady tramp of heavy boots. "

  Here they come ! That must be the police," he went on with heartfelt relief. " You go and tell them that Dunnage is still inside."

  "All right." Hervey went off.

  Presently the footsteps stopped. There was a low murmur of voices, then silence.

  Minutes passed, and it remained unbroken. Then a movement below caught Biggles' eye and he saw Grimble, his head still in bandages, crouching behind the apple tree. Still watching, he saw the inspector in some undergrowth. The sergeant, walking on tiptoe, appeared on the rough track leading to the cave. Hardly able to breathe from suppressed excitement, Biggles watched the police closing in on their objective. After what seemed a long time they finally stood together just outside the gaping entrance of the cave. All now drew their truncheons, weapons which, Biggles thought, looked singularly ineffectual against a mail armed with a rifle. The sergeant produced a bull's-eye lantern, lighted it, and then moved cautiously into the mouth of the cave. Forthwith he committed what seemed to Biggles to be a blunder of the greatest magnitude. He had supposed they would stalk the murderer in his lair and attempt to catch him off his guard, although this would obviously require a good deal of nerve, since, as they would be silhouetted against the light, they would make a simple target for Dunnage should he decide to fight it out.

  Apparently the sergeant was well aware of this hazard, for, raising his voice, he shouted :

  "Come on out of that ! It's the police here ! We know you're there ! " The words echoed eerily in the confined space, and nothing, thought Biggles, could have been better calculated to

  cause the wanted man to remain where he was. He was not in the least surprised when there was no answer. The order to come out was repeated.

  Dunnage did not come out. Biggles would have been surprised if he had.

  The inspector now took a hand. "Come on, you can't get away ! " he shouted. "We've got you surrounded ! "

  Still no sound came from the cave after the echo had died away.

  The police now held a short discussion, and then, to Biggles' great admiration, prepared to take the place by storm. Biggles, on his part, prepared to run, for knowing the labyrinth at the end of the cave it was quite on the boards that Dunnage would give the police the slip after all.

  In the event it did not come to that. The crack of a twig caused Biggles' eyes to switch to the spot from which the sound had come ; and there he saw a sight that was photographed indelibly on his brain for all time. It was Dunnage. Lying flat, with his eyes on the police, rifle ready for use, he was moving inch by inch in the manner of a snake across the face of the bank immediately below Biggles, and half-way between him and the police, who were just entering the cave.

  How Dunnage got where he was Biggles could not for a moment imagine, for he had certainly not come out of the entrance. Then he remembered the small hole inside that had never been explored, and realised that it must have been made as an emergency exit should the original workmen find themselves trapped by a fall of rock.

  For a second Biggles was petrified with shock. His mouth went so dry that he could not articulate. For the first time in his life he came near to fainting, for Dunnage was quite close, and as he was deep in long grass and weeds there seemed every reason why he should escape.

  Let it be admitted here and now that what Biggles actually did was not prompted so much by fearlessness, as was afterwards alleged, as by a frantic desire to call the attention of the police to what was happening, and thus bring them to the spot before Dunnage could choke the life out of him, or bash him on the head as he had bashed Grimble. Self-preservation was the instinct that governed his action at that awful moment.

  Getting to his knees, he put both hands against the rock behind which he had been lying, and pushed. Over the edge went the rock with a thump and a crash as it smashed its way through the flimsy weed and brushwood in its path.

  Dunnage heard it coming, as he was bound to. He looked up, and sprang to his feet to get clear, for the boulder was coming down on top of him. He was a split second too late.

  Even as he crouched to spring the boulder knocked his legs from under him, and he, and the rock, went rolling down the short hill together. Before he could get to his feet, the polite, who had, of course, also heard the crash, were on him, and although he fought like a madman, using the most horrible language, he had no chance. A truncheon rose and fell, and presently the murderer was lying on his back with handcuffs on his wrists and Grimble sitting on his chest.

  Biggles waited for no more. He had seen enough. With a curious feeling that he was treading on air he raced down the hill to the road, shouting : "They've got him ! They've got him I "

  Smith, Hervey and Brickwell came scrambling out of the ditch in which they had been hiding. "Have they really got him ? " shouted Smith, who was apparently taking no chances.

  "They've got the handcuffs on him " yelled Biggles.

  Smith danced with mad abandon, throwing his cap into the air, shouting " Hooray !

  Hooray ! " Suddenly he stopped. "What if he breaks free again ? "

  "I don't think he will," opined Biggles.

  "He might ! " cried Smith. "Come on, I vote we get back to school ! "

  "All right, let's," agreed Biggles, who felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his mind.

  With one accord they broke into a run, shouting the news, "They've got him ! " to everyone they met.

  And that, as far as is known, was the end of poaching in Foxley Wood. A week later the school broke up
for the Christmas holidays and Biggles returned to his uncle for the festive season. But he did not join the shooting parties, for the sight of a pheasant brought back memories that he was anxious to forget.

  A month later, at the county jail, Michael Dunnage paid the penalty demanded by the law for wilful murder. So, although Sam Barnes could not be brought back to life, he was at least avenged. Siggins was sentenced to a long term of imprisonment for his part in the affair.

  Biggles received a letter from the Lord-Lieutenant of the County thanking him for the part he had played in bringing the murderer to justice, and congratulating him on the courage he had displayed at the critical moment, The rifle Dunnage carried was loaded, said the Lord-Lieutenant, and had it not been for Biggles' presence of mind, one, at least, of the police officers would certainly have been shot.

  As far as Biggles was concerned, the most important thing of all—as he told his uncle—

  was that he could now return to school with an easy mind.

  THE END

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