Biggles and the Penitent Thief

by W E Johns

  ‘What a tale,’ murmured Biggles. ‘Talk about honour among thieves.’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet. There’s more to come,’ declared Miller. ‘If you’ve found the story hard to believe so far, wait till you’ve heard the rest. The next night, in pitch- dark, the yacht ran aground and stove a hole in her bottom on what turned out to be a rocky island.’

  ‘Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere,’ Biggles said. ‘What was the name of the island?’

  ‘Marten Island.’

  ‘Never heard of it. Where is it?’

  ‘It lies about two miles off the coast of Labrador.’

  Biggles stared. ‘Labrador! Canada! Great grief! How could they have got so far off course?’

  ‘I reckon they’d been off course from the start. Anyway, there they were. At first light, with the yacht breaking up on the rocks, they managed to get ashore in the dinghy. They even made a mess of that in their hurry and had to wade the last bit with the dinghy being knocked to splinters in the surf. Raulstein carried the jewellery in a canvas bag. That was all they saved. They hadn’t a clue where they were, but they could see a house, a sort of glorified log cabin, not far away, so they took it for granted that the place was inhabited. They didn’t realize yet they were on an island. They walked along to the house. It was the only one as far as they could see. They banged on the door. No one answered. They went in. There was nobody there. But what did they find? Talk about luck! Everything set out as if a shipload of castaways was expected.’

  ‘They story gets more fascinating every minute,’ murmured Biggles. ‘Go on.’

  The place was furnished. Plain but comfortable. There were cupboards full of stores, biscuits and canned stuff of every description. There were even some bottles of beer. Everything was clean and tidy as if someone had been living there.’

  ‘Of course, they were dreaming,’ put in Bertie.

  ‘Not a bit of it. The stuff was really there. There was a stove. They lit it and sitting at the table had the first square meal they’d had for weeks.’

  ‘Then they woke up,’ guessed Bertie, smiling.

  Miller ignored the interruption. ‘When they’d finished they went out to have a look round. It was then they discovered they were on an island. Not a very big ‘un. Tommy reckons it was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile across at the widest part. It was mostly rock. What wasn’t rock was trees. Fir trees and bushes. It was hilly round the outside, but the middle was flat. They saw they had it all to themselves. Not far away they could see what they took to be the mainland; but without a boat they’d no way of getting to it, even if they’d wanted to. But with plenty of grub they’d nothing to worry about. They could see some small craft scattered about in the distance, which they took to be fishing boats. Tommy was for lighting a big smoke signal fire, but Raulstein said they weren’t in any hurry. They went back to the house. Apart from birds, the only living things on the island seemed to be foxes and there were plenty of those — the sort that have dark hair with grey tips. Raulstein said they were silver foxes.’ Miller grinned bleakly. ‘Sounds like a fairy-tale, don’t it?’

  ‘Carry on,’ requested Biggles. ‘I can’t wait to hear the rest of it.’

  ‘They had another meal. When it got dark they went to bed. There was only one bed. Raulstein had it. The others slept on the floor. Came daylight the trouble started that was to end in another murder. After breakfast Tommy went outside. Lew Darris joined him. “Notice anything?” he whispers. “Notice what?” says Tommy. “The swag has disappeared,” says Lew. “That skunk Raulstein’s hid it. Mark my words, he intends to have the lot. No sharing it with us. Not him. When it suits him he’ll knock us off. Who’s to know? When he’s rescued, as he’s bound to be sooner or later, he’ll say he was alone on the island. It’s as plain as a pikestaff. You saw the way he got rid of Grant. If he could do a thing like that, why shouldn’t he treat us the same way? Eh? Tell me that?”

  ‘Tommy could see Lew’s argument made sense,’ continued ex-corporal Miller. ‘There wasn’t any reason why Raulstein should share the loot with ‘em. That didn’t worry Tommy, but naturally he didn’t want to be murdered. “What can we do about it?” he says. “I’ll tell you,” says Lew. “He ain’t as smart as he thinks he is. I heard him get up in the night, and guessing what he was up to I kept an eye on him. I saw where he hid the bag.” “Where?” says Tommy. “You see that bit of a knoll on the edge of the cliff over there,” says Lew. “That’s where he put it, under a heap o’ rocks. He didn’t see me watching him.”

  ‘By this time all Tommy was thinking of was how to stay alive,’ explained Miller. ‘He says to Lew, “What do you suggest we do? Don’t forget Raulstein has a gun in his pocket.” ‘There’s only one thing we can do,” declares Lew. “Get him before he can get us. Knock his brains out when he’s got his back turned. That leaves only the two of us to share the stuff.”

  ‘Of course, not being a fool Tommy realizes there’d soon only be one of ‘em, and it wouldn’t be him,’ went on Miller. ‘He’s sick of all this talk about murder, but he pretends to agree. But he’s got a different idea. It was this. If he could move the swag secretly to some place where only he knew where it was, neither Lew nor Raulstein would dare to kill him for fear of never being able to find it. He tells Lew to go back to the house, saying he’ll follow him presently. Instead, as soon as Lew’s out of sight, he slips across to the knoll and finds the swag under some rocks like Lew has said. Picking up the bag he runs to the nearest trees and shoves it down a foxhole, afterwards kicking some loose earth over it. Then he strolls back to the house.’ Miller paused to accept another cigarette.

  ‘Lew and Raulstein are there, talking,’ he continued. ‘Lew winks at Tommy as much as to say, now’s the time. He picks up the iron poker as if to poke the fire. As he does so something falls through a hole in his pocket and rattles on the floor. Tommy sees what it is. So does Raulstein. It’s a gold ring with a whacking great diamond sparkling in it. Raulstein stares at it. Then he glares at Lew. “You damn thief,” he snarls. “So that’s it. You’ve been at the swag behind my back.” Lew starts to explain, but Raulstein cuts him off. “This is how I deal with crooks,” he shouts and whipping out his gun shoots Lew dead on the spot.’

  Biggles shook his head. ‘What a bunch of crooks,’ he muttered. ‘Tommy certainly hooked up with a right lot of villains.’

  ‘Tommy thinks, this is where I get it, too,’ resumed Miller. ‘But no. After a bit Raulstein calms down and puts the gun back in his pocket. “Let this be a lesson to you,” he growls. “This is what you’ll get if you ever try to double-cross me. Here, give me a hand to get rid of this!” He takes hold of Lew by one of his legs. Tommy takes the other leg, at the same time picking up the ring and putting it in his pocket for the time being. Raulstein doesn’t seem to notice. Between them they drag Lew’s body to the edge of the cliff and dump it over into the sea. What else could Tommy do? If he’d raised any objection he’d have been asking for it. As it was he was in a sweat about what Raulstein would do when he discovered the swag had disappeared. He thought that wouldn’t be long, and he was right. “Let’s see what else the rat pinched,” says Raulstein, starting to walk towards the knoll, explaining he’d put the swag out of the house for fear someone came along and saw it. Tommy thinks here comes the show-down.’

  ‘Wasn’t it?’ inquired Ginger, who had followed the infamous story of treachery wide-eyed.

  ‘No, although it should have been,’ Miller answered. ‘This is what happened. When they get to the place where Raulstein had put the bag, and he found it wasn’t there, he raved like a madman, cursing Lew to hell and back. It didn’t seem to strike him that Tommy had anything to do with it. “I wonder where he could have put it,” he says. “How would I know?” says Tommy, doing his best to look innocent. “You were out with him this morning,” says Raulstein suspiciously. “Let’s look for it,” says Tommy. “He couldn’t have gone far. It shouldn’t take us long to find i
t.” Actually he was playing for time, because he’d spotted something Raulstein hadn’t seen, having his back to the sea. It was a motor-boat coming fast from the mainland towards the island. “Better not do anything in a hurry,” he says to Raulstein. “There’s somebody coming. If we found the bag where’d we put it? This chap who’s coming is bound to offer to pick us up. If he saw us with a bag he’d wonder what we’d got in it.”

  ‘“That’s right,” says Raulstein. “This needs thinking about.” Tommy says, “Let’s see how he shapes when he finds us here helping ourselves to his property.” Raulstein says he has a better idea. It was to shoot the man as soon as he landed and pinch his boat. Tommy thought he was past being shocked, but this casual, cold-blooded talk of murder, took his breath away. He decided, whatever happened, he wouldn’t stand for that. “You must be off your rocker,” he says, bluntly. “The boat must be well known, and the man who owns it. They’d be missed, and word would go out up and down the coast.”

  ‘“I reckon you’re right,” agrees Raulstein. He agrees to Tommy’s suggestion that they go to the house and wait, to explain how they got there and see how things worked out. So they walk back to the house and wait for the man to arrive. Sometime later he walks in. Of course he’s surprised to see ‘em, but far from making any trouble about them helping themselves to his property, he tells ‘em to think nothing of it. They did the sensible thing. Raulstein puts on his best suave manner and gives his version of how he and Tommy had been cast ashore and lost their yacht in a gale. The man, a tall, red-headed, good-looking chap who says his name is Angus Campbell, explains what he’s doing there. It turns out he’s a silver fox farmer. He has the island on lease from the Canadian government. He doesn’t keep his foxes in cages, but lets them run loose to breed. Every so often he collects some of the young ‘uns and sells them to other breeders for stock. He lives on the mainland, but once in a while he comes across to see if everything’s all right and put down a load of food, mostly meat, for the foxes. That’s what he was doing now. He built the cabin and laid in some stores because the weather was tricky and there was always a risk of him being stuck on the island for as long as a storm lasted, p’raps days, or even weeks. He said he was going back right away because the weather people had forecast a period of gales. He’d take them to the mainland with him.’

  ‘Which put Raulstein and Tommy on a bit of a spot, as you might say,’ put in Biggles.

  ‘Too true,’ agreed Miller. ‘What could they do? They couldn’t ask the man to wait because he was obviously in a hurry to get back home while the going was good. He’d done what he came to do, that is, dumped the food for the foxes. It was now plain why there were so many foxes on the island. Campbell had put them there in the first place.’

  ‘What did they do?’ inquired Ginger.

  ‘Well, Raulstein did suggest they might stay on the island for a little while, but Campbell said with the winter coming on it might be months before he came back. Nobody else was likely to call. Well, neither Raulstein nor Tommy wanted to spend the winter on the island, so in the end they had to go off with Campbell.’

  ‘Leaving the swag to be collected at some future date?’

  ‘That was the idea. Raulstein of course had no suspicion that Tommy knew where the stuff was; and Tommy wasn’t saying anything. So they go to the mainland, where Campbell puts them up in his house in a little fishing village. Tommy’s one thought now was to get away from Raulstein. In the morning, without saying anything to him, he slipped off and managed to get a lift to the nearest town, the name of which he’s forgotten. From there he got to Newfoundland.’

  ‘What did he use for money?’ asked Biggles.

  ‘He had a pound or two in his pocket to start with. He also had the ring which Darris had dropped. He pawned it for two hundred pounds. He had to, to pay his fare home from St John’s, where, as you know, the trans-Atlantic planes touch down. He’s still got the pawn ticket, so the ring could be redeemed at any time. That’s how he got home.’

  ‘What about Raulstein?’

  ‘Tommy doesn’t know what became of him. He never saw him again after leaving Campbell’s house in Labrador. Well, that’s the tale of woe Tommy told to me. He made a clean confession of the whole affair.’ Miller looked at Biggles anxiously. ‘Do you believe the story, sir?’

  ‘Why? Did you think I wouldn’t?’

  ‘I thought you’d find it a bit hard to swallow, sir.’

  Biggles stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray. ‘I believe every word of it,’ he said slowly. ‘And I’ll tell you why. No man in his right mind would think up such a fantastic tale and expect to be believed. In fact, it would need a vivid imagination to think out such a yarn. A liar, trying to put over a string of lies, would invent something simple, less complicated, more plausible. That’s why I believe it.’

  ‘And what will you do about it, sir?’

  ‘There’s only one thing I can do about it, and that’s to put the whole thing in front of my chief and leave any decision to him. Where is Tommy now?’

  ‘At home, staying with me.’

  ‘Then he’d better remain there. Give me your address.’ Biggles jotted it down on a scribbling pad. Then he looked at the clock. It was nearly two o’clock. ‘Great snakes! Look at the time!’ he exclaimed. ‘This spellbinding tale of yours has cost me my beauty-sleep. How are you going to get home?’

  ‘That’s all right, sir. I’ve got a car. I left it in an all-night garage not far away.’

  ‘Good. Then you’d better get along.’ Biggles stood up. ‘I’ll talk things over with my Chief and as soon as he’s decided on what action to take I’ll get in touch with you.’

  ‘What do you think they’ll do to Tommy?’ asked Miller, apprehensively.

  Biggles shook his head. ‘I don’t know. As far as the law is concerned the fact that he took part in the raid on Marchant’s makes him a criminal. But you must have realized that when you decided to come here.’

  ‘That’s true enough, sir. But as he’s the only man alive today who knows where the jewels are, I thought—’

  ‘They’d let him off in return for handing them over? Is that it?’

  ‘Something like that, sir,’ admitted Miller. ‘That’s what I hoped. It’s the argument I used with Tommy to get him to talk. Don’t forget it was the police who put him off the rails in the first place.’

  ‘Well, I can’t make any promises on that score,’ Biggles replied. ‘As I said at the beginning, we don’t make bargains with crooks, although, if they turn Queen’s Evidence it can make a difference. On his own admission Tommy has associated with a murderer.’

  ‘But he wasn’t to know that, and there was nothing he could do about it. Without Tommy’s help you’ll never catch Raulstein because no one else could identify him. And he’s prepared to testify against him.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about it,’ concluded Biggles. ‘Now you’d better get along home. I’ll see you to the door.’

  CHAPTER 3

  BIGGLES HAS A PROBLEM

  BIGGLES lost not only his beauty-sleep but a good deal more, for he went to bed with a problem on his mind, and that is never conducive to easy slumber. He wished fervently that Corporal ‘Dusty’ Miller had not brought his troubles to him. He had warned him at the outset that anything he said might be used in evidence and therein lay the crux of the matter. If he reported to Headquarters what he now knew about the Marchant jewel robbery, it seemed likely that Dusty would have defeated his object, in that both father and son would find themselves in court, the son as a criminal and the father for harbouring a man he knew to be one. On the other hand, if he, Biggles, withheld the information now in his possession, then he would be failing in his duty.

  Whether to keep silent or divulge the facts of the case was the question that worried him for most of the night, although in his heart he knew there was only one course open to him. He would have to speak, and Tommy Miller would almost certainly have to take the consequences for his
part in the raid on the Regent Street jeweller’s shop. What punishment he would receive would be for the judge to decide, and nothing Biggles could do would alter that.

  Should that happen, the Corporal would of course think that he, Biggles, had let him down. Betrayed his confidence. That was only human nature. It was that which really distressed him. He liked the man who had once served under him. He had been an efficient, conscientious mechanic, and what had happened was through no fault of his. Tommy was his son, so it was only natural that he should protect him by every means in his power. Being a law-abiding man he, too, had been faced by a problem; forced to make a difficult decision; and it must have been in desperation that he had come to the only man he knew who might be able to help him. Wherefore Biggles recoiled from the idea of hurting him, but did not see how it could be otherwise.

  Tommy was a different matter. He did not know him. He had never seen him. He had only his father’s word for his moral character, at all events up to the time of the stolen car tragedy; and parents, naturally, are inclined to be prejudiced in their judgment in favour of their children.

  It was easy to find sympathy for Tommy. The whole trouble — if his father was to be believed and this was not to be doubted — stemmed from his wrongful imprisonment. That would sour any young man. If he had been guilty of anything it was folly; folly in not going to the police as soon as he knew what the villainous Raulstein intended. Even making allowances for his state of mind when the proposition was put to him, what he did to make himself an outlaw was stupid, muddle-headed. No doubt he realized it now. But now it was too late. He had taken the fatal step, and what had been done could not be undone.