The others jumped. 'Doing with it? Nothing – just looking at it, that's all,' replied Malty.
A slow smile spread over Biggles's face. 'I'm afraid you'll have to throw it away,' he said reluctantly.
`Throw it away?' cried Malty, aghast. 'Whatever for ?' `Because it's jiggering up my compass, that's all,' Biggles told him.
So that's the culprit, is it?' exclaimed the Professor. Ì think so.'
`Well, I'm not parting with it,' declared Malty. Ìf necessary, I'll get out and walk. This is what I came for and I'm not going back without it.'
Biggles scratched his ear. 'It seems a pity to dump it, I admit,' he said slowly. 'But honestly, Malty, I daren't risk flying without a compass, so what are we going to do about it? That stuff must fairly bristle with magnetism, or electricity, or both - yet why doesn't it affect the magnetos?' he added quickly.
`They're varnished, that's why,' put in McAllister, speaking for the first time.
Òf course. I'd forgotten that. Then can we varnish this stuff?'
`We've no varnish,' McAllister pointed out. 'We used it all on the plateau and left the bottle behind. Wait! I've got it. Malty, take the stuff outside; go some distance away and see if the compass is all right then.'
At a distance of a hundred yards the compass began to show signs of life; at two hundred it was normal.
Biggles breathed a sigh of relief. 'It looks as if we shall have to dump it,' he said.
`Have you got a ball of string or a coil of wire?' asked McAllister.
`Why, what's the idea?'
`Why not roll the stuff up in a piece of sheet and let it hang out of the window - out of range, so to speak.'
Biggles stared and then laughed. 'Nothing like having a practical man on board,' he said. '
Let's try it.'
A coil of copper wire was produced from the spare-part locker and the cause of the trouble attached to one end of it. Biggles took off, and smiled as the small bundle trailed out below and behind them. He glanced at the compass and then turned to Algy. Tell them it's O.K.,' he said, 'and remind them to wind it in before I land. We don't want to hook the roof off the rest-house.'
Eight hours later, after an uneventful voyage, the Explorer landed on the aerodrome at Chittagong, just as the sun was going down behind the mysterious jungle.
The Aerodrome Manager met them. 'Where have you been ?' he asked curtly.
Biggles looked up in surprise, pretending not to notice half a dozen silver machines bearing the red, white, and blue insignia of the Royal Air Force, lined up in front of the hangar, and a dozen curious spectators in khaki drill uniforms, who were watching from the veranda. 'We got a bit off our course, I'm afraid,' he confessed.
Off your course!' cried the official incredulously. 'Are you trying to tell me that you've been in the air ever since you left here ?'
Òh, no,' replied Biggles naively. 'We had some engine trouble and came down.'
`Where?'
Òver there.' Biggles indicated the north-east horizon with a vague sweep of his arm.
Ì thought you said you'd got a bit off your course,' observed the official sarcastically.
Ìt may have been some way; the compass went wrong,' Biggles told him casually.
Ì should think it was some way,' muttered the official pointedly. 'I happen to know that country. A helicopter couldn't find room to land this side of the Himalayas, much less that.' He pointed to the Explorer. Ì'd like to see that compass,' he went on grimly.
`You'll find it on the instrument board,' Biggles told him coolly.
The official looked at the instrument and grunted. 'Yes, that's not much good,' he admitted. ' You ought to be more careful with your instruments,' he advised.
Biggles did not think it worth while to explain that a part of their cargo, now once more in the cabin, was responsible for the rigidity of the needle.
`Half a dozen service machines have been wasting their time looking for you for the last twenty-four hours,' went on the official.
`That's not my fault, is it?' protested Biggles. 'What do you mean, wasting their time, anyway ?'
The official looked at him oddly. 'Because they would have had to go a long way before they found you, wouldn't they ?' he said meaningly. Then a slow smile spread over his face, and when he spoke again it was in a different voice. 'I should dearly love to know just what you people have been up to,' he murmured. 'Would it surprise you to know that Marshal Li Chen has sent a nasty note to the British Legation in Pekin, requesting that the pilot of the British aeroplane that is annoying certain of his subjects be requested to return to his own country.'
Biggles started. `Li Chen? I seem to have heard that name,' he said, with a puzzled air.
Ì shouldn't be surprised; he's the head of the Chinese Government. A very powerful man at the moment.'
Ì remember. Sort of jumped up from the ranks, and now trying to do the Dictator act.'
Something like that.'
`Well, what's that got to do with me ?'
That's what I'm asking you.'
Ì'm sorry, laddie, but I'm afraid I can't help you,' replied Biggles sadly. 'I was never in China in my life. And now, if this little catechism is over, my party could do with a spot of nourishment.'
`What are you going to do tomorrow ?' asked the official, as they walked slowly towards the rest-house. 'I mean, which way are you going ? Or are you going to stay here ?'
Biggles looked him straight in the eyes. 'At the crack of dawn we are going back to England, Home, and Beauty, just as fast as we can,' he said softly.
The other smiled. 'I think that would be the very best thing you could do,' he agreed. '
You're featuring on the front pages of the world's newspapers at the moment, under the headlines of "Missing British Fliers. Mystery of Lost 'Plane," so don't be surprised if the reporters ask you some leading questions.'
Ì hope they don't.'
'Why?'
`Because then they'll hear no lies; smiled Biggles frankly.
CHAPTER 1 5
REFLECTIONS
A FORTNIGHT later they sat in the library at Brendenhall Manor, sipping their after-dinner coffee. They had gone down by train after spending a day in London, during which time Malty had taken the pieces of stalagmite to an unknown destination, and Biggles had reported to the Foreign Office in answer to a curt invitation handed to him on landing. The Explorer had been left at Brooklands Aerodrome to be reconditioned.
So you told them the whole story,' said the Professor, looking at Biggles, who had just finished describing his interview in London.
Òf course. It was no use beating about the bush. They had every right to know, anyway.'
Ànd what did they say ?'
`Nothing. They're better at listening than talking. When I'd finished they just said "Thank you" and handed me my hat. But if you want my opinion, I should say from a general impression that they were relieved. I had a feeling all the time I was there that they knew more than they pretended; that something funny was going on in the Far East, but they weren't sure what it was. There's no doubt that the affair was more far-reaching than we first imagined. This Li Chen johnny has big ideas. The Foreign Office people knew that, of course, but they didn't know what they were. They do now.'
`You mean, he was the man behind the Chungs ?'
Ùnquestionably. He was financing them out of the Chinese Treasury and supplying transport for the machinery to the Tibetan frontier; he was all set to step in at the finish and openly proclaim himself Lord of Creation. The Chungs must have got the money from somewhere to buy the plant for harnessing the power supplied by the mountain.
Where did they get it? I didn't notice any goldmines or other prolific sources of revenue about, did you?'
`They could have sold some radium,' suggested Algy.
Ànd drawn attention to the fact that they had radium deposits? Not likely! That would have been enough to bring the spies of every financial magnate in the world hot-foot to
the spot. Then the game would have been up. No ! The radium was too big a secret to be let drop. Li Chen backed them with a world conquest in view, so that if it had come off it would have been a good investment. The joke is, he can't do anything about it now. If he starts a scream he'll expose his own plot, and that wouldn't do him much good. The big Powers would keep such an eye on him in future that he wouldn't be able to change his socks without their being aware of it. But what I want to know is, what have you done with the loot, Malty ?'
`You mean the stalagmites ?'
`Yes.'
`They're being examined by experts'
`When do you expect their report ?'
Ì've got it.'
`You've got it!'
`Yes; that 'phone call I answered a little while ago was from the Royal Institute. I've been waiting for you to stop talking so that I could tell you what they said.'
Biggles laughed. ' Go ahead,' he said. 'I've finished.' Malty flushed with an excitement he could no longer conceal. 'The stalagmites contain a high content of a hitherto unknown form of radium,' he said in a low voice that he strove to keep steady. The question of monetary value does not arise. It is beyond price. It is estimated that when the metal is extracted from the limestone there will be at least three ounces – probably more.'
Òunces!' Biggles's face fell.
`Yes, ounces. Of course, it was impossible to think of radium in such enormous quantities,' continued Malty breathlessly. 'A gram is a lot, you know.'
Biggles looked relieved. Then our little lot will be worth quite a bit,' he suggested.
Malty smiled. My dear fellow,' he said, if you are thinking in terms of L. s. d., the valuation figure could not be less than two hundred and fifty thousand pounds, although that is purely problematical, because as radium has never existed in such quantities, nobody is qualified to name a price.'
Biggles sank back suddenly. 'Two – two – my goodness,' he stammered. 'I'd have brought back a hundredweight if I'd known that.'
`Naturally, it won't be sold.'
Biggles blinked. 'What are you going to do with it then ?' he asked. Put it on the mantelpiece for a souvenir, or use it as a paper-weight, or something ?'
`No; after allowing the Radium Institute to take what they require for research purposes, I shall distribute it between the leading hospitals in the country. There will be ample to go round.' Malty hesitated. 'I have not lost sight of the fact, however, that you have all been to some trouble in the matter, so I don't propose to leave you out. Personally, I am more than satisfied with the way things have panned out. For Mac here, without whose kindly assistance we might now be whitened skeletons in the gorge of the centipedes, I have
instructed my agent to buy a cottage on the banks of the Clyde.' He raised his hand to cut short the old man's rhapsody of thanks, and then turned to Biggles. 'Would it satisfy you and your two loyal comrades - er - that is - would you consider yourselves recompensed if I handed the Explorer over to you, with sufficient funds to finance another trip to anywhere you care to go ?'
,`For my part, Malty, I call that really handsome; nothing would suit me better,' declared Biggles. He turned to Algy. `How about you, laddie ?' he asked.
Ì'm with you; I think it's great.'
Ànd you, Ginger ?'
Ò.K. by me, Chief,' grinned Ginger.
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06 Biggles Hits The Trail Page 16