16 Biggles Flies North

by Captain W E Johns

  As he spoke he touched the right-hand side of the rudder-bar with his foot, bringing the Jupiter round on a new course to follow the other machine.

  For an hour the respective positions of the two machines did not change. Although in the circumstances it was

  hardly likely that the Jupiter would be seen by the men in the leading machine, Biggles kept at a safe distance, quite satisfied to watch. The only fear he had was that McBain should be carrying more petrol than they were, in which case they might ultimately be compelled to give up the chase for lack of fuel. He was, therefore, more than a little relieved when he saw the Weinkel going down. Grabbing his map, he studied closely the area they were over, then he turned a bewildered face to Algy.

  `There's nothing there,' he said.

  `Not even a village?'

  Àbsolutely nothing.'

  Algy stood up and surveyed the ground right to the horizon; it was all the same: open prairie broken by wide areas of fir forest, with a small lake here and there. 'No,' he agreed, at the end of his scrutiny, 'there's nothing in the shape of a town or village. What are you going to do?'

  That was a question Biggles could not answer at once, for the problem facing him was a difficult one to solve. While the Weinkel was in the air it was extremely unlikely that McBain would see the Jupiter, but once it was on the ground, with its engines stopped, the noise of the Jupiter's engines would certainly give them away. The Weinkel was still in the air, but it was now losing height rapidly, and it seemed only a matter of minutes before it would land.

  His brain raced as he sought a solution to the puzzle. Studying the ground intently, he saw that to the right the ground was fairly open, and that it fell away quickly to the left, the locality in which the Weinkel looked as if it would land. It struck him that if he could put the Jupiter down on the high land behind one of the patches of timber, it might be possible for them to watch the Weinkel without being seen. Anyway, it seemed worth trying, so he at once proceeded to put the plan into execution. He cut the engines, and not until the Jupiter's wheels trundled over the turf did the others realize what he had in mind.

  The machine had barely come to a standstill before Biggles was out, running for all he was worth towards a

  line of spruce and fir that hid the whole of the country to the south. They were a mile or more from the Weinkel, so there was little risk of them being seen or heard. Ducking low under the drooping fir branches, they pushed their way to the far edge of the timber from where the country to the south lay open to their view.

  `There they are! ' Biggles's voice was tense as, keeping under cover, he pointed out the Weinkel, which was now standing on the ground by a small log cabin near the edge of a lake. It so happened, however, that from their coign of vantage the Weinkel was between them and the cabin, so although they could see figures moving, they could not see exactly what was going on.

  Ì should say they are unloading the gold,' declared Ginger.

  Ì don't think there is any doubt about that,' returned Biggles.

  Several minutes passed during which no more was said; then, not a little to their surprise, the Weinkel's engines suddenly opened up again, and almost before the watchers realized what was happening, the machine had taken off and was racing low over a south-easterly course. The cabin was deserted; or, at least, it appeared to be.

  `Gosh! We shall lose them if we are not careful. Come on.' Suiting the action to the words, Biggles led the rush back to the machine.

  In three minutes they were in the air again. But the Weinkel had had five minutes' clear start, and an aeroplane can travel a long way in that time. There was no sign of it.

  `They were heading south-east. That's the direction of Fort Beaver,' Algy pointed out.

  Ì know, but I don't get the hang of this at all,' muttered Biggles, with a worried frown. 'If they've hidden the gold, they've got a bit of a nerve to go back to Fort Beaver.'

  `Maybe they'll just land to pick up the things that belong to them, and, perhaps, refuel.

  Then they'll come back, put the gold on board, and go straight on south to the United States,' suggested Algy.

  `Possibly,' agreed Biggles. 'Yet, somehow, I don't think that's the answer. It's got me beaten, and that's a fact. One thing is certain; we've got to get back to Fort Beaver ourselves or we shall run out of petrol. Another forced landing would just about put the tin hat on things.'

  `Suits me,' agreed Algy. 'A night's rest wouldn't do any of us any harm.'

  That closed the conversation for the time being. It was half an hour later before any one spoke again, by which time Fort Beaver aerodrome was in sight.

  `There's the Weinkel,' said Biggles. 'And unless my eyes deceive me, that's McBain and Ferroni standing beside it. talking to—it looks like Delaney.'

  `Yes, it's Delaney,' put in Ginger. Ìf he is asking them what has happened to the gold we'

  ll be able to enlighten him,' he added.

  Ìt will be interesting to see just what is happening,' observed Biggles smoothly, as he cut the Jupiter's engines and glided down.

  Their run in carried them very close to the Weinkel. Mc-Bain and Ferroni stared at them as they taxied past.

  `Yes, you might well stare,' said Biggles quietly to himself, eyeing McBain and his pilot grimly. 'You didn't expect to see us back so soon—if at all—I'll warrant.' His eyes went past the two crooks and came to rest on something that lay on the ground beyond them.

  A strange expression crept over his face, but he made no further observation until he had switched off in front of their hangar. `Well,' he said, in an odd tone of voice,' what do you make of that?'

  `Make of what?' asked the others together.

  `Those are the Moose Creek gold boxes that they're unloading,' went on Biggles. 'They haven't stolen the gold after all. They'll never get a better chance.' He passed his hand wearily over his face and then shook his head. 'That seems to knock all our calculations sideways, doesn't it?'

  Ì--I don't understand it,' blurted Wilks.

  `You'd be a clever fellow if you did, I think,' muttered Biggles dryly. 'According to Ginger, those chaps are crooks,

  waiting for a chance to get their hands on a pile of gold. They've actually had the gold in their possession, with nothing as far as I can see to prevent them from getting clear away with it. Yet they bring it back here and quietly hand it over to the bank messenger—that looks like him coming now—like law-abiding citizens. There's a weak link somewhere in that chain of events. We had better go inside and put our thinking caps on and see if we can find it.'

  Under Arrest

  FOR THE REMAINDER of the day and far into the night they discussed the problem that seemed to admit of no solution. At daybreak the following morning they resumed the debate. They could talk of nothing else. Biggles broke off long enough to send Smyth to the village, shopping, then he continued the discussion.

  `You can't get away from it,' he declared, staring out across the now deserted aerodrome.

  Ìf McBain stays here for ten years he won't get a better chance to lift a load of gold than he had yesterday. If he is a crook, why did he deliver the gold instead of pushing off with it? That's what I want to know. Had he wanted to, he could have been two thousand miles away by now. I give it up.'

  `The only answer seems to be that McBain isn't a crook after all,' suggested Wilks.

  Ì tell you I heard them discussing ways and means of getting the gold,' declared Ginger emphatically. 'You're not suggesting that I dreamed '

  Òf course we're not,' broke in Biggles.

  `Maybe the haul wasn't big enough, and they are waiting for another lot,' suggested Algy.

  Biggles shook his head. 'That won't do,' he said. 'Why, they might have to wait months.

  You remember that Can-

  well himself told us that it was an unusually big cargo of metal; and consider the other circumstances. The freeze-up has set in up north, and it's only a question of days—perhaps hours— before it reaches us
here. McBain must know by this time that something has happened to his other machine. He must know that we suspect him of the murder of old Mose. He probably guesses that we have got the transfer from Angus. Any one of those factors should be sufficient to send him scuttling out of this locality as fast as he can go. Why is he waiting? What is he waiting for? If he had hidden yesterday's cargo of gold we might suppose that he is hanging about in order to pick up a second lot before clearing out, but with our own eyes we saw him hand the boxes over. There is something fishy about the whole thing. Talking of gold reminds me that we've still got Mose's "

  poke" in the machine—the dust Angus handed over to us. We'd better put it somewhere safe pending such time as we can hand it over to the authorities. No doubt they'll find Mose's daughter. I don't feel inclined to tear around at this moment looking for her. We'll tell Delaney about it next time he comes up here.'

  Ì've got a place where we can hide it,' said Wilks. `There's a secret cavity under my office floor; I had it specially made for valuables.'

  `With McBain and Co. about I think it would be a good thing if we put it in right away,'

  declared Biggles.

  The small bag of gold was accordingly fetched from the machine and put into Wilks's hiding place. The task done, they returned to the tarmac.

  `To get down to brass tacks, what is the next move?' inquired Algy.

  `The most important thing is that we now have the transfer,' answered Biggles. 'As far as I can see, there is nothing to stop us from showing it to Delaney, and asking him to order McBain off our property.'

  `Yes, I think that is the right procedure,' agreed Wilks.

  `Then we'll hang about for at bit to see if Delaney comes along; if he doesn't, then we'll go and find him,' declared Biggles. 'Go and brew a dish of coffee, Ginger. Bring it in the office when it is ready.'

  Ginger nodded, got up, and made his way, deep in thought, to the back of the hangar, where the cooking stove had been installed.

  The others sat outside the office door, smoking and discussing the situation. They were still waiting for the coffee when, to Biggles's astonishment, Constable Delaney appeared at the entrance to McBain's hangar.

  `What do you make of that?' jerked out Algy. 'I wonder how long he has been there,'

  said Biggles.

  'It must have been a long time or we should have seen him go in,' Wilks pointed out.

  'I thought everything was very quiet over there,' muttered Biggles suspiciously. 'He's coming over to us now, by the look of it.'

  Delaney was, in fact, walking towards the Arctic Airways hangar, followed by McBain and Ferroni.

  'What the dickens do they want?' growled Algy.

  'We shall soon know,' murmured Biggles, rising to his feet to greet the constable. '

  Morning, Delaney; looking for something?' he called cheerfully.

  Delaney nodded curtly. 'Yes,' he said shortly.

  Biggles experienced a twinge of uneasiness. There was something about the constable's manner be did not like. However, he did not show it. 'Make yourself at home,' he said. '

  What can I do for you?'

  The constable, carbine across his arm, came to a halt a couple of paces away and regarded the three airmen with an expression of shrewd suspicion. His eyes came to rest on Biggles.

  'Were you at Moose Creek yesterday?'

  'I was,' replied Biggles frankly. 'Any reason why I shouldn't be?'

  'I'll do all the questioning.'

  'Go ahead,' invited Biggles cheerfully.

  The constable turned to Wilks. 'Any objection to my searching your outfit?' he inquired. '

  I'm searching it, anyway,' he added.

  Wilks waved a conscience-free hand. 'Help yourself,' he said. 'Maybe if I was told what you were looking for I could help you.'

  Ì shan't need any help,' rejoined the constable.

  `You've had a look round McBain's outfit for whatever it is you've lost, I presume?' put in Biggles.

  Delaney threw him a sidelong glance. 'I have,' he admitted.

  Ànd you didn't find it?'

  `No.'

  `You won't find it here.'

  `You talk like you know what I'm looking for.'

  Ìf I had one guess, and if I hadn't seen the boxes being unloaded on the aerodrome yesterday, I should say it was the Moose Creek parcel of bullion.'

  McBain took a quick pace forward. 'What are you suggesting?' he growled.

  `Work it out for yourself,' replied Biggles evenly. He turned to Delaney. 'You won't find the Moose Creek gold here,' he said. 'Funny thing,' he went on easily, 'I should have thought that if those boxes had been empty you'd have noticed it.'

  `They weren't opened till they got to Edmonton,' returned the constable curtly.

  Ì see. And what was in them?'

  `Lead.'

  Òh! '

  `The dust was taken out of those boxes between Moose Creek and Edmonton.'

  In a flash Biggles understood the meaning of McBain's detour. The gold had been taken out of the boxes at the cabin, and lead substituted. There was one thing he did not understand, though, and this for the time being remained a mystery.

  Ì thought the boxes were always sealed at Moose Creek?'

  `Quite right,' returned the constable. 'When these boxes were taken out of McBain's machine the seals were intact, or I should have noticed it.'

  Ìf the seals were unbroken, then lead, not gold, must have been put into the boxes in the first instance.'

  Àny reason why the Moose Creek outfit should send out a parcel of lead?'

  `None that I can think of.'

  `Nor me.'

  Ì don't see how or where we could have got near it,' protested Biggles.

  `You're the only other outfit besides McBain's that was at Moose Creek yesterday—and here. That being so you're under suspicion till the dust's found,' said Delaney firmly.

  While he had been speaking he had walked into the office, his keen eyes scrutinizing the walls, floor, and furniture. He came striding towards a cupboard when he stopped dead in his tracks, in the middle of a small rug. He stamped. The boards rang hollow. In a flash he had bent down and whipped the rug aside, disclosing the trap-door of Wilks's secret locker.

  `Hello, what's this?' he exclaimed.

  Biggles remembered Mose's gold, which had temporarily escaped his memory. He saw their danger instantly, and hastened to try to rectify the oversight, but his very haste was in itself suspicious.

  Òh, yes—I forgot—there is some gold in there,' he said quickly.

  Delaney started. His eyes hardened and he reached for his revolver. 'Oh, yeah? Just remembered it, eh?' `Believe it or not, but that's the truth.'

  À pile o' gold's the sort of thing you easily forget—huh?'

  Ì was waiting for you to come along to tell you about it,' said Biggles, realizing with dismay how thin the story sounded.

  The constable knelt down, lifted the trap aside, put his hand into the aperture and lifted out a heavy doeskin bag. As he stared at it, turning it round and round, his whole manner became tense. Suddenly he tossed the bag on to the table and, whipping out his revolver, covered the three air-

  men menacingly. `So that's it, eh?' he snarled. 'You dirty skunks! Stand still.'

  `Why, that's the sort of poke old Mose allus used,' cried McBain. 'He allus used doeskin'

  `Yes, and his initials are on it,' grated Delaney. 'Now we know who killed Mose--and why. This isn't the dust I was looking for—but it'll suit me better than the other.'

  `Just a minute, Delaney, you've got this all wrong,' protested Biggles desperately. 'Don't jump to conclusions. I know how this must look to you—naturally; but you're making a mistake. I can explain it.'

  `You wouldn't have the nerve to suggest that this isn't Mose's poke, I reckon?'

  Òf course not. We were going to give it to you to hand over to his next-of-kin—he has a daughter

  '

  McBain burst into a roar of laughter. 'By thu
nder, that's a good one! It's your turn to tell one, Delaney.'

  The constable's lips were dragged down at the corners. `So you killed an old man for his poke, did you?' he sneered.

  Àngus Stirling gave us that gold yesterday when we told him that Mose was dead,' said Biggles quietly.

  `What's this? You trying to tell me that you saw Angus yesterday?'

  Ì am telling you.'

  Òh—shut up. He's on Eskimo Island, and he's froze in.' `He may be now, but he wasn't yesterday.'

  As he spoke Biggles realized with increasing horror just what the fact of Angus being frozen in was likely to mean to them. Not for six months would it be possible to make contact with him As a witness he might as well not exist. The only scrap of evidence they had in support of their story was the transfer, and even so there was nothing to prove that Angus had given it to them with his own hands.

  Delaney jerked his head towards the door. 'Get going,' he said.

  `Where to?' asked Biggles.

  `You'll see,' was the harsh reply. 'We've got a place for your sort.'

  `But —9

  'Cut it out. Anything you've got to say you'd better save for the court.'

  `Wait a minute. There's another one of 'em,' cried Mc-Bain suddenly. 'Where's the kid?'

  As if in answer, the Jupiter's engines burst into life.

  Delaney cursed and dashed outside, but the big machine was already on the move. 'Stop!

  ' he yelled. Seeing that his words had no effect, he blazed away with his revolver, McBain and Ferroni joining in with theirs.

  `You kill that kid and it will be the worst day's work you've ever done! ' shouted Biggles furiously. In the swift sequence of events he had forgotten about Ginger and his coffee-making. To his heartfelt relief he saw the Jupiter run across the aerodrome untouched. A faint smile played about the corners of his mouth as he watched it climb into the air. '

  You'll have a job to catch him now,' he told Delaney, with savage satisfaction.

  The constable whirled round furiously. 'You won't crow so loud presently,' he snapped.

  `Nor, I fancy, will you,' replied Biggles, with a good deal more confidence than he felt.

  `That's enough. March,' ordered Delaney. 'Any one of you who tries to make a break won't know what hits him '