Biggles Sets a Trap

by W E Johns

  “Shouldn’t it surprise me?”

  “I would have thought not.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “You know whose arms they were?”

  “No. Who carried them?”

  “The De Warines. I’d have thought you’d have known that.”

  “Well, I didn’t know,” asserted Leo emphatically. “Why should I know?”

  “They were the people here before you.”

  “But that was 500 years ago! How the devil did you know?”

  “I’ve been going round with my eyes open. You can see this same cognizance in the church. And unless I’m mistaken these were the arms on that shield over your front door before someone battered it with a mace, a battle-axe, or something. What puzzles me is why this window was left here untouched.”

  “It may have been left on religious grounds. The chapel would be consecrated. The window is right over the altar, and in the days of superstition it might have been thought sacrilege to damage it or take it out.”

  “You’ve probably hit on the answer. In the Middle Ages this would have been a sanctuary, no doubt, and most people would think twice before damaging anything belonging to God. Anyway, there it is. The De Warines must have put it there and there it has remained. By the time anyone was prepared to do anything about it the thing had been so smothered with dirt that no one knew what it was. Well, there doesn’t seem to be anything else so we might as well get back to the fresh air.”

  They went out. Leo locked the door and they walked back to the chairs outside. On the way Leo left them, saying he would put the broom back where he had found it. This gave Biggles an opportunity to speak to Bertie.

  “I want you to go to the Yard,” he said quietly. “There are two or three things you can do. First, take that whisky glass with you and bring me back copies of the fingerprints on it. You’ll find the glass in my bag. I also want a finger-print outfit. We may need it. Next, check if Warren holds a firearm certificate, and if so for what weapon. See the Chief and tell him what we’re doing. Make it clear this is a serious matter. Murder has been done, and unless we do something about it we’re likely to have another on our hands. Explain the difficulty. All we can do for the moment is wait and watch, hoping the murderer will take enough rope to hang himself. Suggest it might be a good thing if we had a search warrant for The Spurs public house ready for execution in an emergency. I wouldn’t use it otherwise. He may jib at that but there’s no other way we can get into the house. We wouldn’t get anywhere with Warren by asking questions. Whatever happens you can bet he’ll have a cover story ready, probably an alibi.”

  “Okay, old boy. Is there any great urgency about this?”

  “No. Get back tonight if you can, otherwise tomorrow will do. It’s a nuisance not being on the phone but you can reckon I shall wait here. I’m not taking my eyes off Leo. He knows he’s in danger, but he still doesn’t realize how dangerous it is. The deuce of it is we can’t do a thing until Warren tries to get him, and that could happen at any time.”

  “Righto,” agreed Bertie. “I’ll push off right away and get back as quickly as I can.” He went off.

  Biggles sat down to wait for Leo.

  CHAPTER X

  WARNING FOR DIANA

  AFTER Bertie had gone Biggles and Leo sat together by the front door basking in the warm afternoon sunshine.

  “Is Bertie coming back tonight?” asked Leo.

  “I wouldn’t know for sure. He has several little jobs to do for me so if he does come back today he’s likely to be late.”

  “Are these jobs anything to do with me and what you’re doing here?”

  “Yes.” Biggles lit a cigarette and would have said no more, for one thing he wanted to think, and for another he was afraid the conversation might become difficult. He had not yet decided how much to tell Leo, if anything, fearing he might take some action on his own account. On the other hand, to keep him in complete ignorance might endanger his life. But Leo was evidently curious.

  He said: “Do I take it from what you’ve just said that you’ve picked up a clue?”

  “Let’s say I have an idea of what is at the bottom of all this.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me what it is?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’d rather be more sure of my ground.”

  “But good heavens, man, I’m not a child. Surely I’m old enough to be trusted?”

  “I’m not so sure of that.”

  “That’s a nice thing to say,” declared Leo indignantly.

  “I’m trying to save your life,” answered Biggles shortly. “Or put it like this. I’m trying to prevent you from being killed.”

  “Then you think that’s likely?”

  “More than likely.”

  “Then surely that’s all the more reason why you should tell me what you know.”

  “I don’t know very much. What’s in my mind is mostly conjecture, and if I told you what that was, being young and impetuous you might fly off at the handle and do something silly. In fact you’ve already done that.”

  “How?”

  “I told you if you heard a raven while I wasn’t here you were to stay indoors. What did you do? You rushed into the house, grabbed the rifle and went out to look for it.”

  “Naturally. I thought I was helping.”

  “What you were doing, my lad, was asking to be shot. I have an increasing feeling that this raven stuff is a lure to get the proposed victim within range of a hidden rifle. Tell me this. I’m not quite clear about it. On the day Charles was killed had he left the house when the raven croaked?”

  “I couldn’t be sure about that. As I told you, I was in the vegetable garden at the time. It was roughly about five minutes after the croak that I heard the shots.”

  “It isn’t really important,” continued Biggles pensively. “There isn’t much big timber on the estate except in the spinney where Charles was killed, so wherever he was, knowing that was the most likely place for the bird to be he’d probably walk towards it—and the man who was there waiting for him with the rifle. Don’t you make the same mistake. If you hear any croaking stay indoors.”

  “If someone’s so anxious to bump me off he could do it in the house, if it comes to that.”

  “Oh, no. That isn’t the idea at all. You said yourself that the killing is always made to look like an accident. That could hardly happen in the house.”

  “But with Charles dead, why has this murdering swine waited for so long before setting about me?”

  “Because too many accidents in quick succession wouldn’t do. The police might get suspicious. We’re dealing with a man who has thought this out very carefully, and he’s not in such a hurry that he’s prepared to take risks to get rid of you.”

  “But why get rid of me,” cried Leo. “What have I done?”

  “It isn’t anything you’ve done. It’s something that was done long before your time.”

  “When?”

  “In 1485, or thereabouts,” replied Biggles dispassionately.

  “Nearly 500 years ago! But that’s preposterous!”

  “You may think so, but hate has a long memory where a grievance is concerned, particularly when it affects an entire family. The event is never forgiven or forgotten, being passed from one generation to the next. You needn’t dig far in your history book to find examples of that. The clans of the Scottish Highlands still fight over things that happened hundreds of years ago. The Macdonalds have never forgiven the Campbells for the massacre at Glencoe, and that occurred away back in 1692.”

  Leo stared. “Are you suggesting that the De Warines have never forgiven the Landavilles for taking their property?”

  “That,” returned Biggles succinctly, “is exactly what I am saying.”

  “But that’s ridiculous! The De Warines must have died out long ago.”

  “How do you know? The Landavilles haven’t died out, have they?”

 
; “After the trouble the De Warines bolted to France.”

  “That doesn’t mean they never came back. Henry, Earl of Richmond, bolted to France before the trouble started, but he came back and lost no time in bumping Richard off the throne.”

  Leo looked at Biggles sideways. “You seem to have an answer for everything.”

  “Are you complaining? Wasn’t it to find the answers that you asked me to come here?”

  “Yes, I suppose it was,” admitted Leo.

  “You know it was.”

  “All right. What are you going to do about it?”

  “For the moment, nothing. There’s nothing I can do until I get the evidence to prove my case.”

  “And what do you suggest I do? Sit here and wait to be shot?” argued Leo bitterly. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yes. You can go and see Diana and ask her to marry you. Get a special licence and very quietly slip away for a month’s honeymoon. I think you said you could be away from Ringlesby for a month.”

  Leo blinked, his jaw sagging. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “I trust not.”

  “But I told you why I couldn’t do that.”

  “You mean, why you wouldn’t.”

  “Diana wouldn’t be a wife long. She’d be a widow. What’s the big idea, anyhow?”

  “Firstly, you’d be safe for a while, and secondly, when the chap who hopes to knock you off heard what had happened he might be tempted to speed things up a bit. I can’t stay here indefinitely, you know; I have other things to do.”

  “I won’t do it,” muttered Leo doggedly.

  Biggles shrugged. “Please yourself. But do you think you’re being quite fair to Diana?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the expectation of you asking her to marry you she may have declined offers of marriage elsewhere. You can’t keep her dangling on a string for ever.”

  “I’ve told her I can’t marry her.”

  “But you haven’t told her why.”

  “Well—er—not the real reason. I should feel such a fool.”

  “Better to feel a fool than feel dead. However, think about it. Here comes Diana now, I think. She’s likely to break a spring, taking the drive at the rate she’s coming.”

  The car came to a skidding stop by the chairs. Diana jumped out, looking furious.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Leo, as he and Biggles got up to meet her.

  “Look at this!” Diana pointed to a little round hole in a side window, one of the front ones. It was on the driver’s side. “I was coming along the road when that happened. The bullet must have missed my head by inches.”

  Leo’s face suddenly lost its colour.

  “Have you told the police about this?” asked Biggles quickly.

  “Not yet. Not that I think they can do anything except warn men who are known to be poachers to be a bit more careful where they’re shooting. If they’re going to start shooting across the road somebody’s likely to be killed.”

  “Did you see anyone?” asked Biggles.

  “No. Not a soul.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “Home. I was on my way home when it happened. I thought I’d look in as I was passing and show you the sort of thing motorists have to put up with nowadays.”

  Biggles went to the car, examined the bullet hole and the opposite window. There was a mark on it, but the bullet hadn’t gone through. After searching on the floor for a minute or two he picked up a small flattened piece of lead. He held it out on the palm of his hand for Leo to see. “Fired from a point two-two,” he said. “If I may borrow your car I’ll follow Diana home in case that poacher is still about.”

  “I’ll go,” said Leo, curtly.

  Biggles looked him in the eyes. “You’ll stay here,” he breathed. “I’ll go.”

  Leo looked put out but he did not pursue the argument. “Aren’t you taking a chance? In my car somebody may mistake you for me.”

  “I’m paid to take chances.” Biggles turned. “Come on, Diana. I’ll see you home. You go first and I’ll follow closely in Leo’s car. You might bring your car round, Leo.”

  “Do you think all this is necessary?” queried Diana. “The same sort of accident is hardly likely to happen twice.”

  “I’ll have a look round as we go to see if there’s anyone about. You can show me exactly where it happened. You needn’t stop. Just give a double toot on your horn when you come to the spot. By the way, did you stop when the bullet struck your car?”

  “No. I was going rather fast at the time. I heard a sort of smack but it was some seconds before I noticed the hole. Then there seemed to be no point in stopping.”

  “You didn’t hear the report of the rifle?”

  “No. I wouldn’t expect to with the window wound right up.”

  “Which was lucky for you,” murmured Biggles.

  At this juncture Leo arrived with the old Bentley. He got out and waved Biggles into the driving seat. Biggles got in. “You stay in the house till I get back,” he told Leo, firmly.

  Diana got into her car, slammed the door, and turning set off down the drive with Biggles close behind.

  Reaching the main road she turned to the right and went on at a fair pace, Biggles still keeping in close touch and trying to keep an eye on hedges, heath or forest through which they passed. In most places there was enough cover to hide a small army of men. Even on what was supposed to be open, uncultivated land, the weeds grew rank and tall, with young trees, self-sown, rising from them. It was pleasant enough scenery but he was in no mood to appreciate it. A frown furrowed his forehead and his lips were pressed tight together, for what had happened to Diana had shocked him more than he had revealed. The attack was a development for which he had not been prepared. Leo, yes; but not the girl. It wasn’t easy to see the reason for it, unless it was simply to put more pressure on Leo.

  Diana had slowed down, and a quick double toot on her horn told him they were at the spot where the bullet had struck the car. He just had time to mark it when Diana accelerated and did not slacken speed again until she stopped at a heavy white gate giving access to a gravel drive which apparently led to her home.

  She got out. “Are you coming in?” she asked.

  “No thanks,” declined Biggles as he also got out. “I’m anxious to get back. But I’ll take this opportunity to have a few words with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “You’re in a hurry to get back to Leo, aren’t you?” said Diana suspiciously.

  Biggles had to admit it.

  “What’s going on between you two?” demanded Diana.

  For a moment Biggles hesitated. “Please listen,” he said seriously. “I find myself in a difficult position. Circumstances are forcing me to tell you something I would have preferred to leave unsaid. I dislike being an alarmist, but there is something I must tell you for your own good. Will you give me your most solemn word not to mention to anybody—and I mean anybody—what I’m going to say; because if you did that you might cause irreparable harm.”

  Diana’s blue eyes opened wide as they studied Biggles’ face. “If that’s how you want it. You have my word.”

  “Good. Now listen carefully. Leo is in serious danger, and I am only telling you that because it now looks as if you’re in danger, too. Don’t go out more than is absolutely necessary, not even in the car; if you must go out keep away from the Hall. This is a precaution which I hope will only be temporary.”

  “Do you mean Leo might be—murdered?”

  “That is exactly what I mean.”

  “Does he know this?”

  “Of course. Until you called today it didn’t occur to me that you might be involved; but in view of what happened to you on the road I’m bound to consider it a possibility. It might have been an accident but I don’t think so.”

  “You—believe—somebody deliberately shot at me?”

  “I do. No doubt you will remember what happened to Leo’s brother Charles
.”

  “Of course. He was accidentally—”

  “It wasn’t an accident. Charles was murdered.”

  “Good God! Are you sure of this?”

  “Quite sure.”

  Enlightenment dawned slowly in Diana’s eyes. “Is it because of this danger that Leo hasn’t asked me to marry him?”

  “That is the reason. He won’t consider making you an early widow. How he’ll feel now that he knows you’re in danger, too, I can’t imagine. That’s what I want to talk to him about. You do as I tell you. Never forget that one word of this to anyone may cost Leo his life.”

  Diana was still staring. Her face had turned slightly pale. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a detective from Scotland Yard; but I don’t want anyone else to know that. Leo knows, of course. If he knew I’d told you as much as I have he’d be livid, and quite likely ask me to leave the house.”

  “You don’t seem to trust him entirely.”

  “Not a hundred per cent. Don’t misunderstand me. He wouldn’t willingly let me down. But being who he is he’s proud, he’s fearless, and he’s getting angry. That’s why I daren’t take him completely into my confidence. If I told him all I knew his reaction might well be to take the law into his own hands, and that wouldn’t do. The attack on you might prompt him to do something foolish and we can’t afford to make a mistake. He won’t leave the Hall. Understandably, he’s determined to see the thing through.” A ghost of a smile softened the hard expression on Biggles’ face. He went on: “I took the liberty of asking him to take you away for a month on a quiet honeymoon in some secret place, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It was because he wanted to ask you to marry him that he called me in. He won’t do that until this ugly business is cleared up. He’s that sort of man.”

  “Do you know who is behind this murder plot?”

  “I think so, although I haven’t told Leo for fear of what he might do. But suspicion isn’t enough. I must have proof before I can act, and I’m hoping to get it without having to produce a dead body. That’s the position, and it’s as much as I dare tell you now.”

  “I’m much obliged to you for telling me as much as you have, Mr.—?”

  “Detective Inspector Bigglesworth.”