When nobody answered he went on. “All right. As no one seems to have had a rush of blood to the brain, since we are here we might as well do something. We can all look around for anything else that may have been left here; anything to give us a line on the sort of off-beat lunatic who would come to a place like this to dump a bagful of money: footprints, a cigarette end, maybe, or even a few shreds of fabric where the kitbag was torn.”
Some minutes were spent searching the ground in a widening circle round the tree. This produced nothing. Then Minnie said in a puzzled voice. “There’s something wrong about this. I don’t see how anyone could have got here, whichever way he came, without leaving a trail through the bracken. You can’t walk through the bracken without leaving a mark. I know. I’ve tried it.”
“The bag couldn’t have put itself here, that’s certain,” returned Biggles, with faint sarcasm.
“Then it looks as if it must have dropped from the sky,” stated Minnie, with a smile. Then the smile faded. “Why not?” he inquired.
Biggles looked up. “Why not what?”
“Why shouldn’t it have dropped from the sky? If this fellow Ramsey is telling the truth the bag was found here. How did it get here? I’ve done some tracking, deer stalking in the Highlands, and I’m prepared to stake my reputation that no one could have got here, carrying a heavy bag, without leaving a mark. When I was a kid, not unnaturally, I was interested in Red Indian stories and tried to do the things they did so well. Tracking was one of them. That’s my opinion, anyhow, for what it’s worth.”
For a moment or two Biggles did not answer. He was looking hard at the speaker. Then he said, slowly: “You know, laddie, you may have got something there. Come to think of it, why should anyone carrying a load of money come to a place like this merely to dump it? When you spoke about the bag dropping from the sky you may not have meant it seriously. But it could have been jettisoned by an aircraft. But why? Why, having been to the trouble to pinch the mail and load it on a plane, why chuck it overboard?”
Algy shook his head. “Don’t ask me.”
Ginger spoke. “If it was dropped from the sky, considering where it was found it must have fallen through the tree.”
Bertie came in. “You know, chaps, if it did come through the bally tree it’d be a miracle if it didn’t hit a branch on the way — if you follow me.”
Ginger came back. “Of course, the bag may not have been slung overboard. It may have fallen out by accident. But there is this about it. If it was thrown out deliberately it strikes me that this isolated clump of trees, standing in the middle of nowhere, so to speak, would be a good place to park the bag if it was intended to recover it later.”
“But it wasn’t recovered,” argued Biggles. “Why not? Why did no one come along to retrieve it? Obviously, no one did come or the bag wouldn’t have been here for Mr. Ramsey to find. It would have gone.”
“Maybe the bloke who dropped it couldn’t find the place when he went to look for it,” offered Bertie. “There could be other woods, spinneys, copses or what have you, not far away.”
“That knocks on the head the theory of this particular spinney being a conspicuous mark,” Biggles said. “What was the bag doing on a plane, anyway?”
“If you’re asking me, old boy, I’d say it was on its way to a safe hideout, possibly abroad. It might have been dark at the time, in which case it would be easy for the crooks to make a boob.”
Biggles lit another cigarette. “We’re doing a lot of talking. If we go on we shall end by convincing ourselves that the bag did fall from the sky; that an aircraft does come into the picture. How are we going to prove it?”
“That shouldn’t be too difficult,” Minnie said. “The bag must have been fairly heavy. If it bounced on a branch it should have made a mark. Possibly that was how the bag got torn.”
“Are you any good at climbing trees?” asked Biggles, Minnie grinned. “I have been known to climb one.”
“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind shinning up this one to see what you can find?”
“Fair enough, chief Watch me.”
“Never mind the chief. You’d better call me Biggles, like the others, to save possible misunderstandings.”
“As you say.” Minnie went to the tree. Ginger gave him a leg up to the first branch and he disappeared into the leafy foliage.
The others waited as he continued to climb, with occasional pauses, from branch to branch. A few minutes passed. Leaves and small twigs floated down. Then Minnie reappeared, somewhat breathless and dishevelled. He hung on to the lowest branch with both hands, so it looked as if he had discovered nothing, before he dropped the final few feet. Picking himself up he produced something from a pocket and held it out for everyone to see.
“We were right on the beam,” he announced triumphantly. “The bag bounced through the tree, I found this on the top branch where it first struck and was damaged. Take a look at this!” What he held was a shred of torn fabric; little more than a few strands of cotton of the same colour as the kitbag.
“Great work!” congratulated Biggles. “That answers one question. The bag was dropped here from topsides. But that raises another riddle. I can understand the raiders trying to make a quick getaway by air; but, why in the name of all that’s fantastic did they chuck the swag overboard? It must have been in an aircraft? It couldn’t have got in the air any other way. What plane? Where did it go? Where is it now?”
In the silence that followed, with everyone contemplating the problem, from somewhere not far away a cock pheasant rose with its usual cackle of alarm and a frenzied flapping of wings.
Frowning, Biggles looked quickly in the direction of the sound.
“Someone flushed that bird,” he said tersely. “Don’t say we’re not alone in the wood.”
Might have been a fox put it up,” suggested Ginger.
“No,” stated Bertie. “Had it been a fox it would have flown into the nearest tree where it knew it’d be safe.”
Minnie came in. “It must have been the man I saw when I was at the top of the tree.”
Biggles started. “What man?”
“How would I know what man?” retorted Minnie. “When I was up the tree I noticed a man coming this way across the fields from the direction of the main road.”
“Why the devil didn’t you say so?” snapped Biggles.
“Does it matter?”
“It could matter a lot,” muttered Biggles. “There can’t be many reasons why a man should come here but I can think of one of ‘em.”
“You mean he might be looking for the bag?”
“What else? How was this fellow dressed? Like a farmer?”
“No. I didn’t pay much attention but he seemed to be wearing an ordinary town suit.”
Biggles whipped up the bag, which was still lying on the ground, rolled it up and pushed it into a nearby holly bush. “Don’t move, anyone,” he ordered shortly. “If he should come this way just behave naturally and leave any talking to me.”
Then, as they stood there, tense and expectant, there came the sound of advancing footsteps crushing dry leaves underfoot. For a while they appeared to wander about but the general direction was towards the middle of the copse where the party stood.
“Might be a gamekeeper,” breathed Algy.
“Whoever he is he’s looking for something,” said Biggles, softly.
“Keep quiet. He may not see us.”
If this was what he hoped he must have been disappointed, for a moment later some bushes parted and the man stood before them. He came to an abrupt halt, eyes wide with astonishment, and appeared to be at a loss for words.
He was a smallish, sharp-featured man, well dressed in a dark town suit, making it evident that he was neither a farmer nor a gamekeeper. Indeed, to Ginger’s way of thinking he was a little too well dressed. The toes of the fancy suede shoes he wore were too pointed. His tie, in R.A.F. colours, was pulled into too tight a knot, and was held thus with what appeared to
be a pearl tiepin. A “Pork pie” hat was set at a jaunty angle on his head and sported a suit of highly-coloured feathers. In short, he looked entirely out of place for where he was. However, he was the first to speak.
“Hello there,” he said with a smile, obviously forced, and possibly intended to be reassuring. “What are you chaps doing? Playing some sort of game?”
Chapter Five
“Not exactly a game,” Biggles answered evenly, “We had a reason for coming. May I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Sorry if I’m trespassing,” was the reply. “Do you happen to own this ground?”
“No,” Biggles said. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
“Matter of fact I was looking for something,” explained the new arrival. “Have you been here long?”
“A few minutes.”
“I suppose you don’t happen to have seen a bag lying about?”
“What sort of bag?”
“Actually, an old army kit bag.”
“What would such a bag be doing here?”
The man hesitated but rose to the occasion, revealing he was quick-witted. “I came here the other day with some friends for a picnic. We brought the bag to carry the food and equipment. When we left we forgot to take it with us. I thought I’d come back to collect it. So far I haven’t been able to find it.”
“Then I may be able to help you,” said Biggles calmly, to the surprise of everyone in his party. “I did see such a bag as the one you describe. Not liking to see litter lying about I shoved it under that bush.” He pointed to the holly shrub.
“Thanks,” acknowledged the man, moving quickly towards the place indicated.
“You must set some particular value on it,” suggested Biggles. “I mean, to take the trouble to come to fetch it.”
“I do. It’s an old travelling companion of mine,” the man said fluently.
“Really. You surprise me,” returned Biggles. “It looked like a brand new bag to me.”
“I had it cleaned only the other day.”
The man found the bag and dragging it out threw it on the ground at his feet. There he stared at it with an extraordinary expression on his face, as if he found it difficult to believe what he saw. He also appeared to have difficulty in speaking. Then he blurted: “Was the bag like this when you found it?”
“There was nothing in it when I first saw it, if that’s what you mean.”
“Are you sure it was empty when you threw it in the bush?”
“Absolutely certain.”
“Where did you pick it up?”
“Here, under this tree.”
“You didn’t find anything else lying around?”
“Such as?”
“Well, letters, for instance.”
“You’re sure you don’t mean teacups?”
“Why should there be teacups?”
“I thought you said the bag was used to carry picnic things.”
“So I did. But there may have been some letters, or papers, as well.”
Biggles shrugged. “Well, I certainly haven’t seen any letters, or other sort of papers,” he declared. “If I had I’d have burnt them.”
For half a minute the man looked at Biggles suspiciously.
Biggles said. “Were the letters important?”
“They might have been.”
“If I find any would you like me to post them for you,” suggested Biggles.
“No. Forget it.” With that the man turned away, and leaving the bag as it lay, strode off, presently to disappear in the undergrowth.
As soon as he was out of sight Biggles moved swiftly to Minnie.
“After him,” he whispered tersely. “This is where you can practise your Red Indian stuff See where he goes and if he meets anybody. There may be several of them. They could have a car on the road. If so try to get its number but for goodness sake don’t let yourself be seen.”
“I’ll watch it,” Minnie said crisply, and faded away in the direction the man had taken.
For a little while nobody spoke. Then Ginger said: “Why on earth did you tell him we’d found the bag?”
“I wanted to see his expression when he discovered it was empty. He wasn’t a very good actor and he wasn’t a clever liar. Now he’s got a problem on his mind. What has become of the registered mail which he knew perfectly well was in the bag when he last handled it.”
“You think he was one of the gang involved in the raid?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Then why did you let him go?”
“What else could I have done?”
“You could have arrested him.”
“For what? Suspicion isn’t proof. Everything he said and did, and the fact that he was here at all, points to him being concerned with it the theft of the mail; but we haven’t a scrap of concrete evidence that would stand up in court. I had to think quickly and I decided it would be better to let him go in the hope that he would lead us to the rest of the gang. The fellow who came here wasn’t alone in the raid. There were others.”
“Then why did he come here alone?”
“I wouldn’t know. Maybe he was the only one who knew exactly where the bag was dropped. He came here to recover it. Of that there’s no doubt whatever. It gave him a shock to find us here but there was nothing he could do about it without giving himself away. He must have left here completely foxed, but when he’s had time to think he may hit on the truth. If he decides we were really here by accident he may come back to look for signs of the letters which should have been in the bag.”
“You noticed he wore an R.A.F. tie?”
“Of course.”
“What do you take that to mean?”
“The probability is he was once in the Service. Which means he could be a pilot. If so he may have been taken on by the crooks to fly the stolen mail somewhere.”
“Why did he dump it here, old boy? Tell me that,” requested Bertie.
“If it comes to that, why did he drop it at all,” put in Algy.
“I wish you wouldn’t ask questions impossible to answer,” protested Biggles. “We might make a hundred guesses and be wrong every time. All we can do now is wait for Minnie to come back. He may have gathered information that could throw light on the mystery.”
“The robbery took place over a week ago,” Ginger said thoughtfully. “Why have they waited until now to try to find the bag?”
“We don’t know that they have waited until now. The crooks may have been searching for days. They didn’t find it for the simple reason it wasn’t here. It had already been found by this schoolmaster fellow, Ramsey, who, by bad luck for the crooks, happened to be on holiday and chose this place to look for wild flowers. But that’s how things go in this world. You know the old saying about the best laid plans coming unstuck. Somehow, we don’t know how exactly, that must have happened here.”
Nothing more was said. They stood in a little group, waiting, watching for Minnie to return.
“He’s a long time,” muttered Algy impatiently.
“He may have had some distance to go,” Biggles said shortly. “Don’t worry. He’ll come back here when he’s ready.”
Hardly had the words left his lips when from some way off, in the direction Minnie had taken, there came a sharp report of a firearm.
Biggles’ face lost some of its colour. “My God!” he breathed. “I don’t like that. That was a pistol shot. I hope it wasn’t fired at Minnie. He couldn’t have fired it because he didn’t carry a gun, unless he did so against orders.”
“He wouldn’t do a thing like that,” asserted Bertie.
“What are we standing here for?” demanded Ginger. “Hadn’t we better be doing something?”
“What, for instance?”
“Go and look for him.”
Biggles hesitated. “When in doubt do nothing in a hurry. We might do more harm than good. I couldn’t swear to where the shot was fired so there’d be a lot of ground to cover. If we go and he comes
back here he’ll wonder what has become of us. We’ll give him a couple of minutes. If he isn’t here by then we shall have to try to find him, that’s all there is to it.”
“Hark!” rapped out Ginger. “I can hear someone coming now.”
“Coming in a hurry, too, by the sound of it,” Bertie said, as footsteps pounded through the dead leaves and bushes were thrust aside.
“It may not be him,” Biggles snapped. “Stand fast. This may mean trouble.” Then he drew a deep breath of relief as Minnie, flushed of face and breathing heavily, burst from the nearest bushes.
“I’m glad to see you on your feet,” greeted Biggles. “All right, take it easy. We heard a shot. Was it tired at you?”
“No,” panted Minnie. “At the fellow who came here. They got him, too. I dashed back to let you know.”
“Tell us exactly what happened,” requested Biggles. “Just the facts. Get your breath back then take your time. There’s no hurry now we know you’re safe.”
Minnie told his story. “When I reached the edge of the wood I saw him cutting across a big grass field towards a tall, thick-set hedge which, judging from the telegraph poles running at right angles I took to be on the side of a main road. As soon as he was out of sight I sprinted after him, keeping, of course, on the other side of the hedge.”
“You’re sure he didn’t see you?” put in Biggles.
“Positive. The hedge was thick and I was some distance behind.”
“Okay. Carry on.”
“You were right about him having a car,” continued Minnie. “In fact, when I reached the road I saw there were two cars parked close together. One looked like an ordinary London taxi. There were two men standing beside it. I thought they were merely waiting for the fellow who came here to come back. I was right — more or less.”
“How far were you from the cars?”
“About a hundred yards when I hit the road; but that was close enough for me to see what happened when our man joined the other two. I don’t think he knew the others were there until he climbed through the hedge. He made for what I think must have been his own car, which he had left there to come across to the spinney. It looked like a Cortina. He tried to get into it but the other two wouldn’t let him. They grabbed him, whereupon there broke out what looked like a first-class row.”
Biggles Does Some Homework Page 4