Biggles and the Dark Intruder

by W E Johns

  ‘Where are you, chief?’ he called, reaching it.

  ‘Here.’ The Inspector appeared. ‘I can’t find him but he must be here somewhere,’ he growled.

  ‘He may have gone down the mine.’

  ‘Do you feel like going down to see?’

  ‘Not me, thank you.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘Who was it — Trethallan?’

  ‘I think so, by his figure. It was the damn smoke or I’d have caught him. Some came this way and got between us. That was the last I saw of him. From the row that blasted dog made I was sure he came in here. Lucky it’s tied up.’

  ‘Was no one else here?’

  ‘Not a soul.’

  From some little distance off came the crack of a pistol shot.

  ‘I think I know what that means,’ Biggles said. ‘Someone’s made a break through the bolt-hole; the old shaft that connects with this one.’

  ‘Then let’s get there.’

  ‘Not to worry. If it’s Trethallan, and he’s got clear, I fancy I know where we shall find him.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At home.’

  ‘Why should he go home after this?’

  ‘Where else can he go? He’s got a good reason for making for the Towers. His share of Lewis’s money is there. He’ll need it. But before we do anything about that you’d better get the prisoners to the station. We can’t take them with us. Afterwards we can go on to the Towers.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll do that. How many prisoners are there?’

  ‘Two. Lewis and the pilot of the plane. There’s a suitcase there, too. I think we shall find Lewis’s swag in it.’

  ‘Good. Let’s get along.’

  They were leaving the ruins when Ginger came hurrying up with the officer who had gone with him. With them, handcuffed, was a prisoner. It was the shepherd — so-called.

  ‘We got one of ‘em,’ announced Ginger. ‘They got out of the pit with a ladder.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two. We grabbed the first one over the top and while we were struggling with him the other climbed out and got away. He pulled a gun and had a crack at us.’

  ‘Did you recognize him?’

  ‘No. What with it being dark, and the smoke, it wasn’t easy to see anything.’

  ‘Did he look like Trethallan?’

  ‘Could have been, but I wouldn’t swear to it. It was impossible to see anything in the bottom of the pit.’

  ‘Which way did he go?’

  ‘That way.’ Ginger pointed.

  ‘That’d be the direction of the Towers,’ said the Inspector. ‘We’d better get along there as soon as we’ve cleared up here.’

  The party made its way back to the plane, where the other two constables were waiting with their prisoners.

  Biggles went to the pilot. ‘Where did you start from?’ he asked casually.

  ‘I have nothing to say,’ was the curt answer, in a pronounced foreign accent.

  ‘Maybe you’ll change your mind when you’ve had time to think about it,’ returned Biggles. ‘I’m a pilot myself, and my advice to you is, tell us all you know. It’ll pay you in the long run.’

  ‘I lost my way and had to make a forced landing.’

  Biggles shook his head. ‘You’ll have to think of a better story than that.’ He turned to Lewis. ‘Do you know where you were going?’

  Lewis spat. ‘No. And I wouldn’t tell you if I did, copper.’

  ‘Well, you know where you’re going now, anyway,’ Biggles told him evenly. ‘Come on. Inspector, let’s get along.’

  The entire party walked to the road where the cars were standing. On the way the Inspector asked Biggles what he was going to do about the plane.

  ‘It can stay where it is for the moment,’ decided Biggles. ‘I’ll have a closer look at it in the morning when I can see what I’m doing. It might be a good thing if you could detail a man to keep an eye on it just in case someone tries to destroy the evidence by setting fire to it.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’

  On the road the Inspector took charge and made arrangements quickly. The three prisoners, handcuffed together, were put in the back of the police van with two policemen. The other constable was to drive.

  ‘Aren’t you going with them?’ Biggles asked the Inspector.

  ‘No need. The station sergeant can deal with them till I get back. We still have another man to pick up.’

  ‘And, I suspect, the most important one. It took a man with a brain to organize an escape scheme of this size. Let’s press on, or we might be too late.’

  They all got into Biggles’ car; that is, Algy, Ginger and the Inspector. Biggles took the wheel and headed up the road, destination Hallstone Towers.

  CHAPTER 16

  EXIT THE MASTER-MIND

  BIGGLES drove past the broken pillars that marked the entrance of the drive leading to Hallstone Towers, and brought the car to a stop in the lay-by already used on more than one occasion. There they all got out and advanced on foot.

  ‘This could be a tricky business,’ remarked Biggles to the Inspector as they walked on. ‘It will depend on how Trethallan behaves when you tell him he’s under arrest. Incidentally, what are you going to charge him with?’

  ‘Aiding and abetting an escaped convict, of course. That’ll do to go on with. We’ve got Lewis as a witness.’

  ‘What if he denies it and Lewis supports him?’

  ‘I’ve got you for a witness. You saw them together in the house. So did your man who was taken to hospital.’

  ‘It should be enough, although it’s only our word against his should he try to brazen it out. We shall see. First we’ve got to catch him. He may have bolted.’

  Reaching the drive they walked on to the house without any attempt at concealment. To Biggles’ relief, and somewhat to his surprise, the Bentley still stood outside the front door. Moreover, the light was on in the usual room on the ground floor, the curtains still not quite meeting in the middle.

  ‘Looks as if he’s still here,’ he observed. ‘I thought it likely, having a car, he would have pulled out.’

  ‘We’ve got his registration, so that wouldn’t have done him much good. He wouldn’t have got far. He probably realized that.’

  ‘Wait here a minute while I see if he’s in the room, and if so, what he’s doing.’ Biggles walked quietly to the lighted window. He took a quick peep and returned.

  ‘Well?’ queried the Inspector.

  ‘He’s in there.’

  ‘What’s he doing?’

  ‘Smoking a cigar and having a whisky and soda.’

  ‘Ah! He probably needs a drink after what’s happened.’

  They walked on to the door. The Inspector tried it. ‘Not even locked,’ he whispered. ‘He must be pretty sure of himself. We’ll go in and come on him before he has time to do anything.’ He opened the door.

  There was a light in the hall: a small paraffin lamp on a side table. The Inspector, being the only one in uniform, took the lead. A corridor led in the direction of the lighted room, revealed by a narrow strip of light at floor level. He stopped when he came to it, turned the handle, pushed the door open and, closely followed by the others, walked in.

  The man they sought was sitting relaxed in an armchair, smoking a cigar with a drink at his elbow. He did not wait to be challenged. Rising to his feet he exclaimed wrathfully: ‘What the hell do you mean by walking into my house as if it belonged to you?’

  ‘Are you Sir Humphrey Trethallan?’ asked the Inspector calmly.

  ‘Yes, I am. What do you want, barging in on me at this hour?’

  The Inspector, in the best official manner, remained unruffled. ‘I’d be obliged, sir, if you’d come with me to Bodmin.’

  ‘What the devil for?’

  ‘I thought you might help me by answering some questions.’

  ‘To Bodmin! Now! Questions! What about? Can’t you ask them here?’

  ‘If you prefer it that way. I have
reason to believe this house has harboured a convict named Lewis, recently escaped from Dartmoor prison.’

  ‘Are you out of your mind, man?’ cried Trethallan, with a well-affected show of incredulity and indignation.

  The Inspector went on imperturbably. ‘I also have reason to think you were with Lewis on Bodmin Moor tonight for the purpose of helping him to get out of the country.’

  ‘Get him out of the country?’ Trethallan’s voice rose high with simulated astonishment. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never heard of this man Lewis, much less seen him. Why in God’s name should I help a crook to get anywhere?’

  Biggles stepped forward, speaking. ‘I’m Air Detective-Inspector Bigglesworth of Scotland Yard. I suggest you helped Lewis because you were paid to do it. You arranged for an aircraft to pick him up on the moor. The plane, the pilot, and Lewis, are under arrest.’

  Trethallan laughed and finished his drink. ‘That’s a good one. How did you dream it up?’

  ‘It’s no use, Sir Humphrey,’ said Biggles. ‘It’s no dream and you know it. I’ve been watching things here for some time. I’ve seen you, with Lewis, here, in this room.’

  ‘Indeed! How did you manage that?’

  ‘You were a bit careless with your curtains.’

  Intuitively Trethallan’s eyes went to the window. ‘Yes, that was careless,’ he agreed. ‘I was always going to get a new pair but somehow I never got round to it.’

  The Inspector said: ‘Come along, sir. We’re wasting time.’

  Trethallan’s manner suddenly changed. ‘All right. You say you saw Lewis here. How are you going to prove it?’ he sneered, looking at Biggles.

  ‘You were seen counting the notes that were the proceeds of the robbery for which he was sent to Dartmoor. I believe I’m right in saying you took him in your car to fetch it from where he’d hidden it.’

  ‘Prove it.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be too difficult,’ Biggles said.

  In dead silence, in a few strides he crossed the room to the fireplace. Taking hold of the carved head on the panelling on the left-hand side he pulled on it. It came out, revealing a cavity. Reaching inside he took out a bundle of bank-notes, held together by a strip of paper such as is used by banks. He tossed it on the table. ‘How do you account for this?’ he asked quietly. ‘This is part of the money Lewis paid you for helping him. The numbers of the stolen notes are known.’

  Here, actually. Biggles was taking a chance, because in fact he did not know for certain that the numbers of the notes were known. There had been no time to find out, but it could soon be checked. Trethallan wouldn’t know, either.

  Anyway, Trethallan must have believed this, for he abandoned bluffing. ‘For God’s sake! You have been busy,’ he scoffed.

  ‘Come along, sir,’ said the Inspector again, a trifle impatiently.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Trethallan muttered. Moving like a cat, before anyone could stop him he had opened a drawer in the table and snatched out a revolver. ‘Now what are you going to do about it?’ he grated, glaring at Biggles.

  Biggles shook his head sadly. ‘It’s no use. That isn’t going to help you.’

  ‘We’ll see about that.’

  ‘Look behind you.’

  Trethallan snatched a quick glance over his shoulder and saw Algy, gun in hand, covering him. When he looked back at Biggles, he, too, held a gun.

  ‘Put that gun down. Sir Humphrey,’ advised Biggles. ‘You haven’t a chance.’

  For a second Trethallan hesitated. A gleam of sardonic humour came into his eyes. ‘Got it all nicely tied up, haven’t you?’ he said mockingly. ‘Well, no one shall ever say I didn’t know when I was beaten, or that I was a bad loser.’ Then, before anyone could guess w he was going to do he had put the muzzle of revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  There was a muffled report, and he crumpled like suit of clothes falling from a hook. A pale wreath of blue powder smoke drifted up.

  For a moment nobody moved. The Inspector’s face was white. ‘My God! Who’d have thought he’d do that?’

  Biggles shrugged. ‘He was that sort of man. He must have known the game was up, and he preferred this way to going to prison.’

  The Inspector walked to the body and bent over him. ‘No use calling a doctor,’ he said grimly. ‘He’s blown the back of his head off.’ He looked at Biggles with extraordinary expression on his face. ‘It was you producing those notes that did it. How the devil did you know they were there?’

  ‘That can wait. I’ll tell you later. There are more in the drawer. With what Lewis had with him it should be the lot. Let’s get this messy business cleared up.’

  ‘I’ll get the body to the mortuary,’ said the Inspector. ‘Where’s the telephone? There must be one in the house somewhere.’

  Ginger answered. ‘It’s in the hall. I saw it as we came in.’

  The Inspector went out. He was soon back. ‘That’s fixed,’ he stated. ‘An ambulance is on its way here. I’ll take care of this. There’s no need for you fellows to stay if you don’t want to. I can ride home in the ambulance.’

  ‘That suits me,’ replied Biggles. ‘In that case we’ll get along. I’ll see you at the station in the morning. I’d like a word with that pilot if you don’t mind. At the same time I can tell you the whole story.’

  ‘That’s all right with me. I shall be interested to know how you got on to this.’ The Inspector picked up the fatal gun.

  ‘I’d be careful with that,’ Biggles said.

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘There’s a chance that it may turn out to be the gun that fired the bullet that killed your Constable Harley. The ballistics experts should be able to tell us. Harley was on the moor the night he was murdered. It was partly that which brought us here.’

  At this juncture the door was opened and an elderly woman came in. Seeing the body on the floor she threw up her hands, screamed and rushed out again.

  ‘I’ll attend to her,’ the Inspector said.

  ‘Who is it — his wife?’

  ‘No. He wasn’t married. We saw her when we came to search the house. She said she was his housekeeper.’

  Biggles nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll get along for a spot of blanket drill.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Bed,’ answered Biggles, succinctly. ‘I’ve lost a lot of beauty sleep lately. Come on, chaps.’

  Leaving the Inspector there they walked to the car and were soon on their way to Bodmin. They travelled for the most part in silence, but on the main road Algy asked a question. ‘What makes a man like Trethallan, born with a silver spoon in his mouth so to speak, make a complete mess of his life and then end it himself?’

  Biggles answered: ‘There must have been a flaw somewhere in his make-up. It’s likely that when he was a young man he had too much money. That tends to make a fellow think he’s smarter than he is. That wise King Solomon knew something when he said: “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.” But who are we to criticize? We all suffer from it, more or less.’ He drove on.

  Reaching the hotel and having parked the car, as they went in Biggles said: ‘There’s one little job you can do for me, Ginger, before we hit the hay. Ring the Air Commodore and tell him not to worry. The bird is roosting on Bodmin Moor. You’ll find me in the bar having a snack and a drink.’

  When, some minutes later, Ginger joined him he reported: ‘No use. I couldn’t get him. I spoke to Mrs Raymond. She said she didn’t expect her husband back for some time.’

  ‘No matter. There’s no great hurry. It’ll do in the morning. You and Algy can have a lie-in, if you like. You must be tired. I shall be along early to see how Bertie’s getting on.’

  The following morning he was first down. Going through to the breakfast room, to his utter astonishment he found Air Commodore Raymond there, sipping coffee.

  ‘Hello, sir. What are you doing here?’ he asked, sitting next to him.

  ‘I found
I was able to get away, so I ran down, travelling overnight, to see how you were getting on. We shall soon have to do something.’

  ‘There’s nothing more to be done but the tidying up,’ Biggles said. ‘We rang you up last night to tell you that Trethallan had shot himself and the intruder was under arrest; but you weren’t in.’

  ‘Good heavens! I was on my way here. What happened?’

  Over breakfast Biggles narrated the events of the previous night. ‘How many crooks Trethallan has managed to get out of the country we may never know; but at the finish it was a case of once too often.’

  ‘Why did he do it?’

  ‘Money. What else? I imagine he was interested only in crooks who had a pile of swag tucked away. The underworld must have known about it. Lewis knew where to make for as soon as he broke gaol. He was carrying a load of notes when we picked him up. The police have the lot.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘First I’m going to the hospital to see Bertie. He took a nasty crack on the skull. Afterwards I shall go along to the police station. I told the Inspector I’d be along early to help him get things sorted out. After that I shall go to the moor to have a closer look at the plane. I couldn’t see much of it in the dark.’

  ‘What make is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Foreign job. Continental dashboard.’

  ‘We shall have to find out where it was based.’

  ‘Unless we can get the pilot to talk that will be difficult. It’s a marine aircraft — or rather, amphibious, wheels through floats. I haven’t seen one of those for years. Thinking it over last night it struck me that the machine may not be shore-based.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘It could have come from a ship. Kept below deck and put up on the water by a crane when required, as they used to do in the Navy before there were aircraft carriers.’

  The Air Commodore thought for a moment. ‘I think the best thing would be to ask the Research Establishment to collect it. They should be able to work out where it was built.’

  ‘That suits me.’ Biggles got up. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, sir, I’ll slip along and see Bertie.’