by W E Johns
A word of greeting, and the three men disappeared into the house. The door closed quietly and a chain rattled inside it. A few moments later the powerful lamps inside the two windows were switched out, and the house was wrapped in comparative darkness, comparative because a faint yellow glow persisted in the room on the left hand side of the door, suggesting that an ordinary lamp was still burning there.
Ginger darted towards it, taking care to keep below the level of the sill, but if he hoped to watch what went on inside the room – and that was, of course, his object – he was doomed to disappointment. He just had time to see Zarovitch take a sheaf of documents from a portfolio he carried when, with a loud swish, a heavy curtain was drawn across the window completely cutting out his view. For a moment he lingered, torn by indecision. The situation was, he decided, too important and too critical for him to handle alone. He could not afford to risk failure. Turning, he crept back to the shrubbery, and then, after a swift but intense study of the field, he darted to the edge of the forest. Reaching it, he paused for a moment to listen, and then sped back towards the place where he had left Ludwig. He did not relax his vigilance, however, but scouted every turning before he took it. Nor did he forget the prearranged signal. An answering whistle from Ludwig, and he ran forward. During his journey he had been thinking hard, so he had his plan ready.
‘Ludwig,’ he whispered in a voice of suppressed excitement, ‘we have got Bethstein cold. Listen! He is in the house with Klein, the banker, and Zarovitch, the Lovitznian Foreign Minister. Zarovitch has just arrived by air and he has brought a packet of documents with him – for Bethstein to sign, I think. I saw him take the papers out of a case. If he will only stay there long enough we can catch the plotters red-handed, but we can’t do it alone. Have you got any troops, or police, whom you can trust implicitly?’
‘My own regiment would follow me anywhere, so would the princess’s guards.’
‘Then go and get them. To be on the safe side, to surround the house and make sure that no one escapes, we need at least twenty men. Grab some cars and bring them along. Allowing for an hour each way, and a quarter of an hour at the other end, you should be back in just over a couple of hours – say, by half-past two.’
Ginger’s eager enthusiasm communicated itself to Ludwig. ‘Suppose Zarovitch leaves?’ he asked tensely.
‘I’ll see to it he doesn’t get away. If necessary I’ll plug the swine and grab the documents. In any case, it is more than likely that Bethstein will have some incriminating evidence about the house. Will you go?’
‘Of course.’ Ludwig sprang into the driving seat of his car.
‘When you come back I should unload the men and park the cars here,’ Ginger told him. ‘Make a detour round the gate in case any one is on guard. Go straight down the edge of the forest until you come to a shrubbery. If no one has left the house I will be waiting for you there. Speed is the great thing now, but for heaven’s sake don’t have an accident.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ promised Ludwig, and the car bumped on to the road. An instant later it was racing towards Janovica.
Ginger waited until it was out of earshot, and then, praying that Zarovitch was still there, he made his way swiftly back towards the house.
Chapter 19
Ginger Gets a Prisoner – and a Shock
AS HE CREPT down the side of the silent forest he knew that the Lovitznian had not left, for he saw the moonlight glistening on the wings of an aeroplane on the far side of the field. He reached the shrubbery without trouble or alarm, where, finding, as he had expected, that the blinds were still drawn, he made his way along until he came to a spot, some distance from the house – but from where he could watch it – which he thought Zarovitch would have to pass when he returned to the machine. There, in the pitch black shadow of a low-hanging yew, he settled down to wait.
The time passed slowly, so slowly that he lost all count of it. He did not mind. Indeed, it suited him, for he was praying that Zarovitch would remain inside the building until reinforcements arrived. He knew that if the plan had not miscarried it could not now be long before Ludwig returned, and when that time came he would have to go back to the shrubbery to meet him as arranged.
Another quarter of an hour passed, and he was just thinking of moving when he heard the door of the house open and saw a beam of light fall across the lawn. ‘Confound it!’ he thought. ‘He might have stayed a little longer.’ Then he crept back still farther into the shadow as he saw a figure walking briskly towards him, and knew from the gait and the portfolio that it was Zarovitch. The door of the house had closed behind the departing conspirator and utter silence reigned.
Ginger’s heart began to beat a little faster as he took out his pistol and held it ready. The critical moment had come. He waited until the plotter was within ten yards, then he stepped out in front of him, pistol thrust forward. ‘Stand quite still, Zarovitch,’ he said quietly. ‘The thing in my hand is a pistol. It is loaded. If you so much as make one yelp, or take one step in the wrong direction, I swear on my oath I’ll shoot you dead.’ There was a ring of sincerity in his voice that could not be mistaken.
Zarovitch did not answer. He stood quite still. Indeed, there was nothing he could do.
Ginger took a pace nearer. ‘Turn round and walk,’ he ordered. ‘And remember as you walk that the muzzle of my pistol is only six inches from your back. Watch your step. You have only to stumble and it will go off.’
‘One moment,’ said Zarovitch, speaking with an effort as though he was suffering from shock, which no doubt he was. ‘What will you take to withdraw and forget this incident?’
‘Nothing,’ replied Ginger bluntly. ‘I don’t bargain with crooks. Keep your mouth shut and walk – and don’t look back.’
‘But–’
‘Don’t argue. I’m tired, and I’d sooner shoot than talk.’
‘Where do we go?’
‘You’ll see. Get going.’
The Lovitznian turned and began walking, with Ginger following close behind. ‘Make for the edge of the forest opposite,’ he ordered. ‘And now turn to the right,’ he continued when they reached it, and in this way they progressed until they reached the road. Down the road they marched, Ginger still covering his prisoner. Inwardly, he was getting more than a little anxious, for he had fully expected to meet Ludwig before this. The time allowed for his return had elapsed, and he began to wonder what he would do with Zarovitch if Ludwig did not return. They reached the clearing in the trees, where Ginger gave the order to halt.
‘For what are we waiting here?’ asked the Lovitznian.
‘You’ll see,’ Ginger told him, with more confidence than he felt. He was, in fact, becoming thoroughly alarmed by Ludwig’s non-appearance, and he began to visualize all sorts of dire calamities.
Shortly afterwards, however, his heart gave a jump when a distant hum of a motor-car engine reached his ears, but he did not really relax until Ludwig’s car ran smoothly to a standstill and he saw Ludwig himself step out. Three more cars were following close behind, none of them carrying lights. Ginger stared when Count Stanhauser himself, in general’s uniform, got out. ‘Here I am, sir, over here,’ he said quietly.
‘Why – what – good heavens! What is this?’ exclaimed the Count, as he saw Ginger and his prisoner standing in the shadow.
‘Zarovitch was departing, sir, so I thought I had better detain him,’ explained Ginger. ‘May I suggest that you examine the contents of his portfolio? I fancy you will find something very interesting in it. And if you will detail two men to take charge of the prisoner, I should be very glad.’
It was Ludwig who ordered an escort for the Lovitznian, for the Count was busy with the contents of the portfolio, which he was already examining with the assistance of a pocket-torch. Zarovitch, silent and glowering, was placed in one of the cars under the muzzles of four rifles, and, thus relieved, Ginger turned to Ludwig.
‘You’ve been a long time,’ he said. ‘I was afra
id something had gone wrong.’
‘It took longer than we thought to organize the party,’ Ludwig told him. ‘The Count had gone home, and cars had to be found. Nerves in the city are very jumpy. Martial law has been proclaimed, and my uncle has taken over control of both the police and military forces. That is why he is in uniform.’
The Count joined them, and they could tell by the gravity of his expression that Ginger’s estimate of the contents of the portfolio had not been far wrong.
‘Have you found evidence to incriminate General Bethstein, sir?’ asked Ludwig.
‘Evidence! Incriminate him!’ The Count appeared to find difficulty in saying the words. ‘That arch-scoundrel would have sold his country to her enemies. The agreement is here, signed and sealed. In return for Bethstein’s assistance, Maltovia is to be a dependency of Lovitzna, with Bethstein as Governor-General. His signature, too, is on the deed, which I imagine was just on its way back to Shavros. The signature was what Zarovitch came for, no doubt. Klein is also a party to the plot. It seems that we may just be in time to save the situation. With Bethstein and Klein under lock and key with Zarovitch, and the story of their infamy broadcast to the nation, the whole country will be against them and their plans will come to nothing. But we must not stand talking here.’
‘What are you going to do, sir?’
‘I am going formally to arrest General Bethstein and Klein on a charge of high treason.’ The Count turned to Ginger. ‘You had better show us the way,’ he said.
‘Very good, sir. Get the men in line and tell them to maintain absolute silence.’
A buzz of conversation ran through the troops when the Count told them of the general’s defection, and some dark looks were thrown at the Lovitznian sitting under guard in the back of the car. Then order was restored, and in single file, with Ginger at the head, they set off towards the house. As they emerged from the forest he halted and pointed to the aeroplane, still waiting for its passenger. ‘How many men have we got, sir?’ he asked the Count.
‘Twenty, now; we started with twenty-four.’
‘Then I suggest that you send two more to arrest the pilot of that aircraft. I don’t suppose that Zarovitch flew it over himself. If they keep under cover of the trees they will probably take the pilot by surprise; he has been waiting a long time and is probably getting rather bored.’
The precaution taken, and the two men on their way, the main party resumed its march, and did not halt again until it stood in the shadow of the shrubbery. Ginger crept forward but was soon back.
‘The light is still burning in the general’s room,’ he whispered, ‘so presumably he and Klein are still there. The door is chained on the inside, I believe, and they will hardly be likely to open it if they see who is at the door. I think the situation calls for a little strategy, sir. It is not unlikely that they will be wondering why the aircraft has not taken off, and if that is so they would not be very astonished if Zarovitch returned. Could you imitate his voice, sir?’
‘Yes, fairly well, I think,’ answered the Count.
‘Then I suggest that you conceal the men round the door and then go and knock on it. If Bethstein asks who is there, say Zarovitch. When the door is open we will rush it and take the general by surprise before he gets a chance to destroy any incriminating documents.’
‘I think that is a good plan,’ agreed the Count, and forthwith proceeded with the execution of it. It did not occupy many seconds, and with the men in position, he knocked boldly on the front door.
‘There was a brief delay. Then, ‘Who is there?’ came from the inside.
‘It is I – Zarovitch,’ replied the Count, in a fair imitation of the Lovitznian’s voice.
A chain rattled and the door swung open.
Ginger led the rush and thrust his foot so that the door could not be closed again. ‘Just a minute, General Bethstein,’ he said evenly. ‘There is somebody here to see you.’
‘What is the meaning of this?’ cried the general, with some agitation as he saw the soldiers. He began to back away.
Ginger whipped out his pistol. ‘Stand still both of you,’ he said in a hard voice, for he saw Klein standing behind the general.
Count Stanhauser moved forward. ‘General Bethstein, you are under arrest,’ he said coldly.
‘What nonsense is this? Are you mad, Stanhauser?’ exclaimed the general hoarsely.
‘No. Rather have I come to my senses,’ replied the Count calmly. ‘I propose to search your study.’ He called two soldiers by name and they took up positions on either side of the general. ‘Don’t move, Klein; I want you, too,’ went on the Count.
Ginger whispered something in his ear and he turned back to the general. ‘Where is Major Bigglesworth?’ he asked tersely.
A faint, peculiar smile flitted across the general’s face. ‘He is in safe keeping,’ he said slowly.
‘Where is he?’
‘That foreigner has upset my plans,’ said the general viciously. ‘He will upset no more plans.’
Ginger felt his heart go cold. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked quickly.
The general smiled mockingly. ‘At the barracks, before I came here, I had the satisfaction of sentencing him to death,’ he said harshly. ‘The sentence is to be carried out at dawn.’
The colour drained from Ginger’s face. He turned to the Count. ‘What is the time? he asked in a high-pitched voice.
The Count looked at his watch. ‘It is now – five o’clock.’
Ginger’s brain reeled. He tried to think, but could not. ‘What time does the sun rise?’ he managed to get out.
‘I can tell you that,’ put in the general imperturbably. ‘It rises at five-thirty.’
‘Why, that’s in – in – in half an hour,’ stammered Ginger, feeling that the ground was rocking under his feet. Odd phrases flashed through his mind. Forty miles – half an hour – forty miles–
‘It is impossible to reach the barracks in half an hour,’ said the Count, who seemed to be nearly as upset as Ginger. ‘It will take you twenty minutes to get to the car, and no car in the world could get to Janovica in half an hour, much less ten minutes. It is forty-three miles.’
Ginger’s face was ashen. ‘Is there a telephone here?’ he cried almost hysterically.
The general shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘there isn’t a telephone between here and Janovica.’
Ginger moistened his lips. ‘Good heavens!’ he whispered. ‘What are we going to do?’
Chapter 20
Backs to the Wall
BIGGLES SPENT MOST of the night sitting on the edge of the table. He was deadly tired, but he did not feel inclined to spend in sleep time which might be employed in thinking of some plan of escape. Algy sat on the bench, with his hands in his pockets and his feet on the table. He had examined the door and the walls a hundred times, and was satisfied that nothing short of a charge of dynamite would move them. He had also spent some time at the window, which could be reached by standing on the bench, but the bars were immovable, and even if it had been possible to remove them, the opening would still have been too small to get through.
‘No, I’m afraid there’s nothing doing,’ said Biggles swinging his legs gently. ‘This is one of those things which no ordinary man can make allowances for. When you’re dealing with a fellow like Bethstein, until you know just how unscrupulous he is, anything can happen. He is the sort of thug who would employ assassins, and even kings with all their guards sometimes fall victims. Admittedly, we’ve known all along that he was working for the other side – but there, what’s the use of talking? We’re here, and unless he was putting up a gigantic bluff, which I do not for one moment believe, he will have us put out of the way for good as soon as it gets light enough to see.’
‘What is the time now, do you suppose?’
‘I haven’t the vaguest idea, but if you ask for my opinion I should say it is about five o’clock; my watch has stopped – not that I could see it, anyway.’
/>
‘What time does it get light?’
‘Somewhere about half-past five.’
‘What the dickens is Ginger doing? I should have thought he would have got busy as soon as he saw the jam we were in.’
‘We don’t know for certain that he got away. Assuming that he did, I imagine he would go and tell Ludwig or the Count what had happened. They would make inquiries, of course, but I doubt if they would rush about all night for the simple reason that they could not possibly imagine our case being so desperate as it is. Bethstein probably realizes that, which is why he is going to have us bumped off before things start buzzing in the morning.’
‘He’ll find it difficult to explain his action,’ observed Algy.
‘What of it? That won’t help us. He will say he is very sorry indeed, and all that sort of thing – and then what, as the Americans say? After all, he is a general, and as such must have a good deal of authority. Whether that permits him to carry out capital punishment is another matter, but he has only to say that he is as capable of making mistakes as any one else to end the argument. He may not even have to do that. If he is ready to strike, and I suspect he must be, the Count and Ludwig will have to look out for their own skins.’
