“I’d make sure of ‘em.”
“We haven’t time. I’m in a hurry. And for all we know that cop who was here yesterday might still be hanging about. I don’t believe in taking unnecessary risks.”
Garsen shrugged. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
The party moved off.
Ginger and Bertie watched them go. When they were out of earshot Bertie got up from his seat, saying: “Brother, was I glad to see you. Things were beginning to look awkward — if you see what I mean.”
“I’d call that putting it mildly,” returned Ginger with gentle sarcasm. “That was why I decided to take a hand.”
“What was the idea of telling those scallywags as much as you did. Have you gone round the bend? Biggles’ll have you shot when he hears about it.”
“Forget it. It so happens those were his orders.”
“How did that happen?”
“I saw him on the road. He rolled up when I was on the way to your car with the chap with the bandaged head. The gang was after him, he said. He was scared rigid. Which was no doubt why he was ready to talk. And he talked plenty. Told us all we wanted to know.”
“And Biggles sent you back here?”
“That’s right.”
“To spill the beans about the kitbag?”
“Right again. Or that was one reason. The other was to see if you were okay.”
Bertie shook his head. “I still don’t get it. What was his idea that you should give this bunch of crooks the low-down on the mail.”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. But the whole thing has taken a new twist. Two gangs of drug racketeers are at war with each other.
There isn’t time to tell you all about it now. I’ll give you the gist of it as we go along.”
“Go along where?”
“Lotton Hall, to find Minnie. Biggles said we were to call him off what he’s doing and take him home.”
“Fair enough, old boy. If those are his orders we’d better get on with it.”
Chapter Twelve
Ginger and Bertie went swiftly along the side of the hedge as the nearest way to the main road. As they walked Ginger gave Bertie a crisp and concise account of what had happened during the morning.
Some distance away, through an occasional thin patch in the hedge they could see Zolton and his party taking a more direct route across the field to Lotton Hall.
“By Jove, old boy, you have been busy,” remarked Bertie.
“You haven’t done so badly yourself, if it comes to that,” replied Ginger. “What on earth were you doing up a tree?”
“Looking for a comfortable seat to take the weight off my feet, that’s all,” explained Bertie. “The bally thing wasn’t as secure as it looked, and, unfortunately, chose a nasty moment to let me down.”
“So I gathered from this chap Varley.”
“What do you suppose Biggles intends to do with him?”
“I don’t know. There wasn’t much time for talking. He went off in a hurry. I can only imagine he wanted, first of all, to get the fellow clear of Lotton Hall to save him from being bumped off Then, having got him to the Yard, perhaps get him to sign a statement that would give him the evidence he needs to bring a case against these crooks Zolton and Alfondari.”
“I wonder what Zolton will do now he knows the cat — or rather, the mail, is out of the bag.”
If he discovers that we’ve got Varley, who might be in the mood to rat on him, he might skip out of the country.”
“He’ll have to be smart to do that now Biggles has got the edge on him.”
They had now reached the road, and stopped to look both ways. If they had hoped to see Minnie they were to be disappointed. There was no one in sight.
“What had we better do?” queried Bertie. “I feel as if I’ve just pulled out of a spin and can’t see which way I’m going.”
“As we may have to move fast if we can get hold of Minnie I think our best plan would be to fetch your car and park it a bit nearer Zolton’s house. There’s a chance that Minnie may have gone to the car and is waiting there for us. If there’s no sign of him it means all we can do is go to look for him.”
“If we bump into Zolton or any of his thugs while we’re on their property they’ll realise we were not the jolly little babes in the wood who had lost their way, as we pretended to be — if you see what I mean,” Bertie said. “I’m only surprised they didn’t realise that sooner.”
“They were too taken up with the lost mail to think about anything else,” replied Ginger, turning to the right to reach Bertie’s car. “Now, alter me giving them all the gen about the mail they can hardly suppose us to be plain clothes men from Scotland Yard.”
Bertie chuckled. “Matter of fact, old boy, just before you rolled up I fancy Zolton was getting a bit suspicious. He asked me if we were anything to do with the police.”
“What did you say to that?”
“I put on my best smile and asked him if I looked like a copper? That made the big tough guffaw as if it was a joke. He must have thought I didn’t look much like a sleuth.”
Ginger grinned broadly and chuckled.
“All right — all right, you needn’t rub it in,” protested Bertie. “My face may not line up with Sherlock Holmes but it has its advantages.”
By this time they had reached Bertie’s car, standing where it had been left. Getting in they drove back up the road towards where Minnie had been dropped off to reconnoitre round the Hall. Just before they reached the drive entrance a taxi came out and drove on towards London.
“I wonder who that was,” murmured Ginger.
“It should mean some of the stinkers are out of the way,” Bertie said.
“It might have been Zolton going to his phoney address to collect his precious drugs, now that he knows the stolen mail has been delivered.”
“Do you know the address?”
“Yes. Varley told us. It’s a little hotel in Bloomsbury.”
“I could overtake him and get there first,” suggested Bertie.
Ginger considered the proposal then shook his head. “I can’t see any point in it. What could we do? We’ve no search warrant so we couldn’t arrest him.”
The matter was not pursued and Bertie brought the car to a halt by the roadside at the place for which they had been making. They got out and climbing the bank to the hedge looked over it for any sign of Minnie. They did not seriously expect to see him, and in fact they didn’t. Bertie suggested whistling, but Ginger disapproved on the grounds that it might attract the attention of people they would do better to avoid. So they walked on a little way looking for a gap in the hedge that would allow them to get into the grounds, the garden of flowering shrubs from which Minnie had proposed to start his reconnaissance. They had just succeeded in getting through when they were startled by the furious barking of dogs no great distance away.
“I’d forgotten the bally dogs Zolton was said to keep here,” Bertie said.
“I don’t like it,” answered Ginger, looking worried. “They wouldn’t kick up this row by seeing anyone they knew. The most likely person to have upset them would be Minnie. The only thing he could do against a pack of dogs would be to bolt.”
“If he could. If I know anything about dogs I’d say they’ve got somebody cornered.”
“If it’s Minnie he must be in a tight spot,” stated Ginger, looking alarmed. “I can’t see how we could help him. We’re not equipped to deal with a pack of hounds.”
“Neither was Minnie,” Bertie pointed out. “The dogs were always a risk. He knew that.”
They could still not see what was causing the commotion but they could judge the direction from which it was coming. The dogs were now doing more growling than barking.
“They’re over there by those stables, or whatever they are,” Bertie said.
“Anyone in the house must have heard the row in which case they’ll be out to see what all the fuss is about,” declared Ginger.
They walked on a little way, slowly, hoping to see Minnie appear. When this failed Bertie said: “Well, what are we going to do about it? We can’t just stand here doing nothing while Minnie may be torn to pieces by a lot of rampaging hounds.”
Ginger agreed. “There’s only one thing for it,” he stated. “We shall have to find out what’s going on. We should be able to get close enough to do that without being spotted by the dogs or anyone who comes out of the house.”
“We can at least try it,” affirmed Bertie.
They moved on, slowly, prepared to beat a quick retreat, towards the nearest cover, a group of rhododendrons which up to now had impeded their view. Round this they worked their way, but were still unable to see the cause of the outcry. What they could see, however, was the upper part of a building which showed above more shrubs ahead.
“Not even a bally tree to climb if the dogs come for us,” remarked Bertie. “You can’t do much against dogs with your bare fists.”
“You needn’t tell me,” Ginger answered, dourly. “But what else can we do? Minnie can’t be far away. If` the dogs are after him you’d think he’d be on his way back to the road, flat out.”
They went on round the next shrubbery until they could see clearly what was beyond it. And what they saw pulled them up short. The spectacle at which they stared did not exactly surprise them, but there was something curious about it. The dogs, which they could now see — there were five or six of them — of the Alsatian type, had barked themselves to silence. They sat on their haunches in a rough semi-circle all gazing in the same direction as if waiting for something. In front of them was a fair-sized building with wide double doors which suggested that before the days of motor cars it had been a coach house or stable. The doors were shut. Above the roof rose a small bell tower. Another feature that supported the theory that the place had once been a stable was a loft with an outside door for the admission of hay or some other fodder. The door, which overlooked an open courtyard, was wide open. A ladder reached to it from ground level.
It was the angle at which the dogs held their heads that gave Ginger a clue as to what their interest was. They were all looking up. Apparently at the door of the loft. Ginger also looked up at it.
And presently what he saw confirmed his suspicions. A man appeared to take a cautious look down at the dogs. The dogs saw him. They bristled, and as obviously they couldn’t climb the ladder they had to be content with growling.
Ginger clutched Bertie’s arm when he saw who was in the loft.
“There he is,” he breathed. Meaning, of course, Minnie.
“Got himself in a proper fix, by the look of it,” observed Bertie, adjusting his monocle.
“It’s easy to see what must have happened,” whispered Ginger.
“The dogs went for him. Having nowhere else to go he bolted up the ladder. Now he daren’t come down.”
“I’d say that’s the long and short of it,” agreed Bertie. “Absolutely. Now the silly ass has got himself well and truly boxed in.”
“You couldn’t blame him for going up the ladder if the dogs were on his heels,” protested Ginger.
“He shouldn’t have gone so close to the house.”
“What good could he have done if he hadn’t’?” Ginger pointed out. “One of his jobs was to see what cars there were here, and he couldn’t have done that by sitting in the bushes. The dogs may not have been in sight when he went over to the stable, or whatever it was.”
“True enough old boy, true enough,” conceded Bertie. “I’m dashed if I can see what we can do about it. Can you? I mean to say, to go near those bow-wows would be asking for it.”
This was so evident that Ginger did not answer. There would seem to be no answer to the problem. All he could do was to continue to stare at the door of the loft where Minnie sometimes looked down in a quick peep. He considered waving to attract his attention, to let him see they were there and had realised his predicament. But he decided it was too dangerous. If the dogs should see the movement, and turn their attention to them, having nowhere to retreat they would be in an even worse plight. Then, as he stood there contemplating the situation, out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a development that did nothing to improve matters. A man was coming from the direction of the house. Under his arm he carried a rifle or a sporting gun. At the distance it was not possible to say which.
“Great grief!” he breathed to Bertie. “Look who’s here.”
Bertie looked. “Stiffen the crows! It’s that little rat who carries an automatic. He’s now got some heavier artillery.”
“He must have heard the dogs barking and has come to see what it’s about,” surmised Ginger.
“Sort of complicates things, as if they weren’t bad enough already — if you follow me,” murmured Bertie.
“It’ll complicate things still more if he sees us,” stated Ginger grimly. “He was still carrying his pocket pistol when he was chasing Varley. l imagine he’s still got it on him. If he finds us here it’ll take a bit of explaining. We’d better stand fast to see what he does. Naturally, the dogs know him, so they won’t touch him. Some are already going to meet him.”
“Good thing they can’t tell him what they’ve been shouting about.”
“He may guess,” returned Ginger moodily. “He’ll know there’s a stranger about. This just about sews things up as far as we’re concerned.”
“We shall have to do something.”
“Tell me what?” requested Ginger, bitterly.
“Well, I mean to say, we can’t just push off and leave Minnie in the lurch.”
“I wasn’t thinking of doing anything of the sort. There must be a way out of this mess if only we could think of it. I’ll tell you what,” Ginger went on quickly. “There’s only one thing for it. You bolt back to the car and try to get in touch with Biggles on the nearest phone. He’ll have got back to the Yard some time ago. Tell him we need help.”
“Leaving you here alone?”
“Yes. I’ll do what I can to delay things. If things come unstuck here there should be one witness to report what happened. Get cracking. There’s no time to lose. Once you get behind those bushes you’ll be out of sight.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Don’t argue.”
With considerable reluctance Bertie backed away from ..................
(Here the manuscript ends)
Appendix I – Captain W. E. Johns’ Notes
Although sadly the narrative of Biggles Does Some Homework breaks off in mid sentence, fortunately a few pages of notes were found with the uncompleted manuscript. Transcripts of them are included here, for they contain two versions of a continuation of chapter twelve, and further notes and jottings afford us an invaluable glimpse of Captain W. E. Johns at work.
CHAPTER 12 — DRAFT
While this brittle conversation had been going on things had been happening at the stable. Minnie had appeared in the open doorway.
He called: “I can’t do anything while those dogs are there. Call them off and I’ll come down.”
The man’s answer was to open one of the stable doors and order the dogs inside. This done he closed the door on them. Then he shouted: “All right. They can’t get at you now. Come on down.”
Minnie emerged, with a foot on the top rung of the ladder.
Ginger still did nothing although he realized he was taking a risk of seeing Minnie shot. But he did not think the man with the gun would commit cold-blooded murder on such a slender excuse as he had. It seemed more likely that curiosity would require him to know what Minnie was doing in the loft. Ginger’s main purpose now was to gain time to enable Bertie to get clear. Meanwhile Minnie was now nearly at the bottom of the ladder, and Ginger decided the time had come to intervene. Leaving the cover of the shrubs he strode openly towards the stable.
For a minute he remained unnoticed. Then Minnie was the first to see him. He shouted: “You’d better keep out of this.” As a result, the man sp
un round to see to whom the warning was addressed, and of course, he saw Ginger coming towards him.
“What the devil are pg doing here,” he demanded, as Ginger came within speaking distance. It was perhaps a natural question.
“I’ve come to see what my friend’s doing here,” replied Ginger.
“What does he think he’s doing, anyhow?”
“Why not ask him? I imagine he scooted up the ladder to save himself from being savaged by that pack of mongrels you keep here.”
“That’s right,” confirmed Minnie.
“What are both of you doing here? This is private property.”
“So I believe,” returned Ginger coolly. “But it’s not likely to be private for much longer.”
“Oh, and why not?”
“The police should soon be on their way here. My other friend, the one who fell out of the tree, has gone to fetch them.”
This seemed to have the effect for which Ginger hoped. The man stared. Before he could recover Ginger went on: “I wish you’d put that gun down. You’re handling it too carelessly for my liking. That’s how accidents happen”
NO. DIFFERENT ENDING
The wheel of fortune now appeared to take a turn to Ginger’s advantage.
The man took a key from his pocket. He unlocked the stable door. He ordered the dogs inside. They obeyed sullenly. The man closed the door on them. Ginger noticed he left the key in the lock. He then, to Ginger’s surprise, rested the gun — a double-barrelled 12-bore — against the door and took his automatic from his pocket. The reason for this was not hard to see when he went on to the ladder and began to ascend. To climb a ladder carrying a sporting gun, which would completely occupy one hand, would be awkward, to say the least; if loaded, as presumably it was, it could also be dangerous.
Thinking as fast as he had ever thought in his life Ginger snatched at an opportunity it would have been too much to expect. He waited till man was halfway up ladder. Then, advancing swiftly on tiptoe to make as little noise as possible, he dashed to the stable door and snatched up the gun that had been left there. Noticing at a glance that it had been put on ‘safe’. With thumb switched off the safety catch.
Biggles Does Some Homework Page 10