Thus the stage was set, and to a spectator it must have appeared an attractive one, with the warm steady glow of the lamp falling like a spotlight, on the men themselves, in comfortable repose, with cigarette smoke curling over them, on glass and silver, with costly furniture mere shadows in the dim background. With nerves taut but steady Ginger waited for the play to begin.
The Doctor spoke the opening lines. Looking at Biggles he said severely : "I think you have been guilty of the gravest discourtesy."
" Really ? I'm sorry to hear that," answered Biggles. "In what way ? "
"You misrepresented yourself to me from the beginning."
"I think, if you will cast your mind back, that we haven't represented ourselves as anything," corrected Biggles. " If you assumed that we were something different from what we are that was not our fault. What did you expect me to do—tell you my life history ? You're a nice one to talk about misrepresentation, anyway. I had a purpose in coming here. I made no secret of it. I came to find an old friend and war comrade named Angus Mackail. That, in case you should forget it again, is still my intention."
Von Stalhein sent a smoke ring curling through the light. "Purely as a matter of detail, how did you know he was here ? "
"Was there any reason why I shouldn't know—why it should be kept a secret ? "
"You were a long time coming."
"I came as soon as I knew he was here and the conditions in which he was living."
"There was nothing to prevent him from leaving, if he didn't like it here."
"Oh yes there was. You know it and I know it, so let us not waste words arguing about that."
"I gather somebody told you Mackail was here ? " prompted von Stalhein.
" Quite right."
"May I ask who it was ? "
"You may. It was a man named Linton."
Von Stalhein glanced at the Doctor. "What did I tell you ? " There was a touch of asperity in his tone as he went on, still speaking to the Doctor. "I warned you he was the type who might do it. You took his departure too casually."
"I took the usual precautions," expostulated the Doctor.
"What does it matter ? " cut in Biggles. "Suppose we stick to facts ? Your precautions failed. He got out. He came to me. I came here."
"Naturally," murmured von Stalhein.
"The remarks you have just made make it clear that you would have stopped him had you been able to."
"We never attempt to stop anyone who wants to go," asserted the Doctor.
"Because you have taken every step possible to ensure that any attemps to escape from here—that's the word, escape—must fail," said Biggles frostily. "You can't fool me. I know. Linton told me all about this place—and you. He couldn't tell me about Mackail without telling me the rest of the tale. Now you know who we are, Doctor Liebgarten, because von Stalhein has told you. That breaks even. The cards are on the table. What are you going to do about it ? "
"What are you going to do ? " parried the Doctor, into whose soft voice a harder note was creeping.
"I'm going to do what I came to do," replied Biggles. "I'm going to find Mackail and take him home. I am also going to take home any other British subjects who are tired of playing slave to a plausable chiseller."
"Anything else ? " sneered Liebgarten.
"Yes," answered Biggles evenly. "When they go they'll take with them the money they put into this bare-faced swindle."
"I don't think swindle is a nice word to use between gentlemen," complained von Stalhein in a hurt voice.
"I choose my words for the company I keep," came back Biggles curtly. "You're liable to hear still harder words before I go."
"Now—now. Just a minute," protested von Stalhein,
"In Germany we have a saying, hard words make wounds." " And in England we have a saying, soft words butter no parsnips."
Von Stalhein smiled as he fitted another cigarette into his holder. "Let us agree that both maxims are apt, and let it go at that," he suggested. "By the way, where is Lacey ? I imagine he isn't far away ? "
"He will be where I told him to be," replied Biggles. "Would you like him to join the party ? "
"If I know him he'll come without being invited, sooner or later," replied von Stalhein with a ghost of a smile. "I suppose at the moment he's looking after your aircraft ? You know, it's an extraordinary thing, but the Doctor here tells me that an aircraft never occurred to him as a solution of the mystery of how you got here. He's been in the wilds for so long that he can't catch up with things."
"He will," returned Biggles curtly. "But suppose we confine ourselves to the purpose for which I came here. We shall get on faster that way."
"What's the hurry ? "
"I'm always in a hurry to leave a place that stinks." The Doctor broke in. "Very well.
What do you want ? " "You know perfectly well what I want," answered Biggles. "For a start I want Mackail."
"I told you Mackail was dead."
"I know you did, and I didn't believe you."
"Are you suggesting that I'm a liar ? " The Doctor's voice rose a tone.
"You flatter yourself, Doctor," said Biggles succinctly. "I'm not suggesting anything. I'm talking plain English, I hope."
"Suppose it happens to be true ? "
"Then I can only say, Doctor Liebgarten, that it will be a bigger calamity for you than for me."
" How ? "
"Because, if it is true, before I leave here I shall pull your valley up by the roots and tell the world just what sort of a racket you've been running here."
"Surely you're not so ingenuous as to suppose that we shall allow you to do that ? "
"Who's going to prevent me ? "
" I am."
"Am I to take that to mean that you will use force to prevent me from leaving here when I'm ready to go ? " "If necessary."
"That's a threat."
"You can call it what you like. You're fond of talking in facts. You'd better think that one over."
"I see," said Biggles slowly. "In that case I hold myself justified to take any steps that I consider necessary to evade what, in legal terms, is called kidnapping."
"You can take any steps you like, but they won't lead you out of this valley," rapped out the Doctor, whose pose of unruffled calm had broken down.
Biggles turned to von Stalhein. "You heard that ? Do you agree to it ? "
Von Stalhein shrugged. "In view of the line you have taken I have no alternative. I live here, remember, as well as Liebgarten. I should deplore a public scandal as much as he would."
"Very well," returned Biggles. "That leaves nothing more to be said. I have already talked so much that my throat's dry. May I have a drink ? "
The Doctor waved a hand towards the decanter with an airy gesture. "Help yourself. I only hope that my excellent sherry will not be wasted."
"I'll leave you to be the judge of that," retorted Biggles, reaching for the decanter.
What happened after that for the next forty seconds of time occurred so unexpectedly and at such speed that Ginger's brain was always a little behind the events. In any case, he had only sounds to guide him, for simultaneously with the last words from Biggles'
lips the room was plunged into darkness. This was the actual sequence. First, unexpectedly, for Biggles was nowhere near the lamp, the light went out. This was followed by a crash of splintering glass, a splash, and a half-stifled gasp. There was swift
movement and a scuffle in which some glasses were knocked over. A petrol lighter snapped on, only to be extinguished as it hurtled across the room. This was succeeded by five seconds of silence, a period which Ginger found the most hair raising of all. He crouched lower against the chair behind which he had flung himself in momentary expectation of pistol shots. None came. Instead, the light came on again, revealing von Stalhein, pistol in his hand half raised, looking wildly about him. Across the silence cut Biggles' voice, as brittle as ice. "Drop that gun, von Stalhein." The German's head jerked round to
the direction of the sound, as did Ginger's ; and there was Biggles, on one knee against the wall, automatic in his right hand covering von Stalhein, while with his left hand he still held the plug, carrying the electric light flex, to its socket. "Drop it, I said,"
snapped Biggles' voice again.
Von Stalhein raised a shoulder in a gesture of resignation. The pistol dropped to the floor with a thud.
" Thank you," acknowledged Biggles. "Pick it up, Ginger. You can give von Stalhein his lighter back, too. It nearly spoilt my effort."
Ginger went round the table and picked up the weapon. In doing so he nearly fell over Liebgarten who was prone on the carpet surrounded by the shattered remains of the decanter and its contents.
Biggles abandoned his position and came back to the table. "Sit down, von Stalhein," he invited. "We can now talk on more equal terms. I hate this vulgar brawling and I'm sorry to have made such a mess, but you forced me to it. It's time you knew that threats always did have this sort of effect on me."
Von Stalhein looked ruefully at the flex that connected the standard lamp with the wall. "
My fault. I didn't notice it—and I understand now why you were so particular about where you sat. It puzzled me at the time. I never did like standard lamps. I shall avoid them in future."
By this time of course Ginger fully comprehended what had happened. Biggles had flung the decanter into the Doctor's face a split second after disconnecting the electric flex with a jerk of his foot, which meant that he had foreseen the possibilities even before he had sat down. As soon as he had thrown the decanter he must have jumped over the table and taken the gun from Liebgartens' pocket, during which time von Stalhein had drawn his own pistol but dare not use it in the dark for fear of hitting the wrong man. Biggles had then crossed the room and reconnected the light.
Still half-dazed with the speed of it all Ginger picked up and gave von Stalhein his petrol lighter, put his chair on its legs—for it had been knocked over—and sank into it.
"Keep an eye on the Doctor," Biggles told him. "I don't think he's badly hurt."
"Okay." Feeling more comfortable now that he had a pistol in his hand, Ginger obeyed.
"You know, Bigglesworth, you're wasting your time playing public benefactor, always a thankless task," averred von Stalhein in a tone half-serious, half-bantering. "You'd make a fortune on the films. The performance you've just put on was as slick as anything I've seen on the screen."
"I'm glad you liked it," answered Biggles evenly. "But save your bouquets for someone more appreciative. I came here to get something—a man named Mackail. Where is he ? "
"I don't know."
"Why not ? "
"I didn't ask."
" Is he alive ? "
"I don't know."
"All right. Have it that way if you like. I was only trying to save time," said Biggles quietly. He got up, rolled the Doctor under the table with his foot, then clapped his hands. "I hope you've got more sense than to try anything silly," he went on, putting the pistol into his pocket, but keeping a hand in it. "Ginger, put that gun of yours out of sight, but keep it handy."
The summons was answered by the steward who looked at the party with askance. Or perhaps he wondered what had become of the Doctor.
"Tell Pedro that we should like to see him," ordered Biggles.
The man withdrew.
At the same time the Doctor showed signs of returning consciousness. He groaned.
Presently he sat up, and Biggles watched without emotion as he mopped his face with a napkin that had been on the table. There was a big red bruise on his forehead, but no actual wound. "What happened ? " he asked in a bewildered voice. "Was it an earthquake
? "
"Something of the sort," replied Biggles.
Still looking dazed, somewhat unsteadily the Doctor rose to his feet and felt his way to a chair into which he dropped heavily. "What happened ? "he asked again.
"Your sherry wasn't wasted," Biggles told him. "You had rather too much of it, that's all.
Sit still and don't ask questions."
The Doctor looked at von Stalhein. It was evident that he still did not understand what had happened. But when Biggles showed him his pistol a look of enlightenment dawned in his eyes.
Footsteps approached from outside.
"Keep your eyes on these two," Biggles told Ginger, as he turned to face the door.
Pedro came in and halted just inside the threshold. Biggles spoke. "Pedro, I believe you dug a grave this evening. Is that so ? "
Pedro blinked, looking worried. After a brief pause he answered, "Yes."
"What did you put in it ? "
Again the black hesitated. His eyes went to his master questioningly, for guidance.
"It's all right, speak up," commanded Biggles briskly.
"The Doctor is as anxious to know as I am. There seems to be some doubt about it."
"But the Boss didn't tell me to put anything in," answered the negro, puckering his forehead in. an effort to understand what was going on.
"That's what I thought," asserted Biggles. "I told the Doctor so, but he would argue. By the way, where is Mr. Mackail now ? "
"But—but— . . . he's where the Doctor told me to put him," blurted Pedro, still looking bewildered.
"I see. Thank you, Pedro. Just wait outside a minute, will you ? "
After a final stare Pedro left the room.
Biggles turned to Liebgarten. "'Where is he ? ""
I've already told you, he's dead," insisted the Doctor, in a sulky voice.
"Then heaven help you," said Biggles simply. " Because," he went on trenchantly, "if he isn't in this room in five minutes I'm going to set this house on fire—and I'm not fooling."
Biggles stepped to the nearest curtain and flicked on his lighter. "I hope you'll enjoy living in one of your lousy huts."
"I wouldn't do that, Bigglesworth," put in von Stalhein anxiously. "It would be most inconvenient for everyone."
"All right, I'll give you one more chance," offered Biggles. Aloud, he called : " Pedro I "
Pedro came back into the room.
"The Doctor would like you to fetch Mr. Mackail," said Biggles.
Pedro looked at the Doctor for confirmation.
"You'd better have him in," von Stalhein told the Doctor in a low voice. "I know Bigglesworth. He doesn't make threats unless he intends to carry them out. You are going to lose this house otherwise, and I don't think one man is worth that."
"Bring Mackail," ordered the Doctor, speaking to Pedro. The words seemed to choke him.
"And by the way, Pedro," put in Biggles. "This is a very private matter. Don't mention it to the others." Pedro retired.
"Now we're getting somewhere," announced Biggles. "It's a good thing for your noble mansion, Doctor, that von Stalhein knows me as well as he does. It would have been a pity to burn up a nice place like this, although I may have to do it yet." Biggles returned the lighter to his pocket.
"I still don't see how you hope to get away with this, Bigglesworth," said von Stalhein who, throughout the proceedings, had maintained his composure.
"You'll see when the time comes," promised Biggles. "The odds against you are too heavy. You still have a long way to go."
"Well, I've made a start, anyway," replied Biggles. "They say that a good beginning is half way."
"There's still the other half," reminded von Stalhein drily.
"The first half is always the hardest," answered Biggles smiling.
At this point Pedro came back into the room bringing with him a veritable scarecrow of a man. Ginger moistened his lips, staring. Thin and ill though the man looked he recognised Angus, but the state he was in appalled him.
" Biggles ! " Angus staggered forward, arms outstretched, his face twisted in a grin, but with almost a sob in his voice, which in itself was sufficient to betray the weak condition he was in.
"Hello, Angus—take it easy," said Biggles, with one eye, as the saying is
, on the Doctor and von Stalhein. Raising his voice he went on, "All right, Pedro, that's all for now."
As soon as Pedro had gone his eyes came to rest on the Doctor's face with such an expression of contempt in them that Ginger held his breath, expecting an outburst. But Biggles had himself in hand. "You rat," he grated. "You vile Nazi thug. You and the Beast of Belsen would have made a good pair. One more bleat from you will be the only excuse I need to do to you what someone should have done long ago."
" Biggles, how did you know ? 1" cried Angus. "How did you get here ? "
Biggles turned to Angus. "Listen, old boy, we shall have more time to talk about that presently. Are you well enough to travel ? "
" Yes—if it isn't too far."
Biggles looked again at the Doctor and von Stalhein. "Don't move, either of you—and believe me when I say I'm in no mood to argue." Then, turning to Ginger he went on. "
Get back to Algy. Take Angus with you. You can go out through the front door."
"What about you ? " asked Ginger.
"I'll join you later."
"In how long ? "
"I shall be on time. Get cracking."
Ginger got up. "Come on, Angus," he said. On his way to the door he stopped and looked back over his shoulder as if a thought had struck him. "What about Elizabeth ? "
"That may have been a bluff. If she turns nasty you'll have to shoot her. That goes for anyone else who tries to stop you. You've got to get out and there's no other way."
"Good enough. See you later." Followed by Angus, Ginger strode to the door.
As the door closed behind them Biggles faced the Doctor and von Stalhein. "Make yourselves comfortable," he invited frostily. "We shall be here for some time. As the Doctor remarked earlier in the evening, we've lots to talk about."
X
THE RIVER OF DOUBT
MEANWHILE, on reaching the hall and finding no one there, Ginger went on to the front door and looked out. Not a soul was in sight. All lay quiet and serene, drenched in tropical blue moonlight almost artificial in its brilliance and beauty. The branches of trees and the fronds of palms hung silently at rest above sprawling inky shadows that might have been dragons sleeping on the lawn. Here and there, against the sombre background of flowering shrubs, the blossoms, white in the moonlight, hung suspended in mid-air like tired ghosts.
35 Biggles Takes A Holiday Page 10