14 Biggles Goes To War

by Captain W E Johns

  The general leaned forward. 'You do not appear to realize that you are being tried on a charge for which, if you are found guilty, the punishment is death,' he said evenly.

  Ànd you, having found us guilty before the trial begins, are only waiting to pass sentence. Am I right?'

  The general's eyes half closed. 'Insolence will not help your case,' he grated.

  `Neither will anything else, I imagine.'

  `Silencer

  Biggles regarded the other members of the court in turn. There was not a single friendly face among them - not that he expected to find one, knowing that they must all be fellow conspirators of the general's or they would not be there. He turned back to Bethstein. '

  Who are all these people?' he asked, indicating the court.

  `They are officcrs of the Maltovian army.'

  `Friends of yours, I presume?'

  The general eyed him malevolently. 'It would seem that you do not take these proceedings seriously,' he said in a hard voice.

  Òn the contrary, I take them very seriously indeed,' answered Biggles evenly.

  `Very well. Let us proceed.' The general cleared his throat. `What is your nationality?'

  `That is something else you know, but you are likely to know a thundering sight better if you try any monkey tricks and the British Foreign Office gets to hear of it, as it certainly will.'

  `Will you answer the questions put to you?' snapped the general, who was obviously fast losing his temper.

  No, I won't,' returned Biggles tersely. 'This court is irregular, and you know it. You have no right to detain us, much less hold this farcical trial. I know what you are doing as well as you do, and as well as every one else in the room knows, no doubt. Why waste time with these absurd proceedings? If you fondly imagine that they will save your face you are making a big mistake, so cut out the nonsense and do what you have already decided to do.'

  The general smiled curiously and picked up his pen. 'No one shall say that you did not have a fair trial,' he said mockingly. 'Where were you last night?'

  `You evidently know that, or you wouldn't ask.' `Were you in Lovitzna?'

  'I was.'

  The general wrote something on the paper in front of him and then looked at the other members of the court triumphantly. 'You heard that?' he said sharply. 'The prisoner admits he was in Lovitzna.'

  An idea suddenly occurred to Biggles. Somehow - he did not know how - the general had learned of their visit to the enemy country. Did he know the reason, he wondered? `Do you know why I went to Lovitzna last night?' he inquired.

  The general started, making it clear that he did not. 'Why did you go?' he asked in an odd tone of voice.

  Biggles noted that the atmosphere of the room had suddenly become tense. 'I went to fetch somebody,' he said quietly, looking the general straight in the eyes. 'Can you guess who it was?'

  Suspicion, and then understanding, flashed across the general's face. 'So,' he ejaculated in a voice that trembled with rage.

  'So,' mimicked Biggles. 1 am pleased to be able to inform you that you went to a lot of trouble for nothing,

  although as a loyal subject of Maltovia you should be delighted to learn that Count Stanhauser is now at the palace. I and my friends brought him home, and that, I think, knocks on the head once and for all any charge of espionage. I'll bet you don't write that down on your paper.'

  The general's lips came together in an ominous line. `You lie,' he snarled.

  Biggles's eyes flashed as his temper got out of control. `You call me a liar? If there is a liar in this room it is you, you dirty, yellow, double-crossing spy.'

  The general sprang to his feet livid with fury. In his convulsive grip the pen he held in his hand broke across the middle. He flung the pieces on the table and reached for his revolver, but he checked himself in time. 'I think we have heard enough,' he almost hissed.

  Ì thought you'd soon get tired of hearing the truth,' sneered Biggles.

  The general turned to the court. 'What is your verdict, gentlemen?' he asked.

  `Guilty,' came the answer, as in a single voice.

  The general drew a deep breath and sat down heavily. `You heard that?' He glowered at the prisoners. 'It now falls to me to pronounce sentence.'

  'Pah! Don't waste your breath.' Biggles's voice was heavy with loathing and disgust.

  The general stood up, smiling sardonically. 'The sentence of this court is that you be taken to the place from whence you came, and at the break of dawn be shot to death by a party of soldiers detailed for that purpose.'

  `You must have recited that little piece a good many times to bring it out as pat as that,'

  jeered Biggles.

  And may God have mercy on your soul,' concluded the general piously.

  'Save your good wishes for yourself. You'll need them,' taunted Biggles.

  A heavy hand fell on his arm and swung him round. The escort closed in around them and marched them back to their cell. The door closed with a dull clang. A key grated in the lock.

  Biggles looked at Algy with a whimsical smile on his face. 'The biggest blunder I ever made in my life was to underestimate that scoundrel's villainy,' he said bitterly.

  `You think he means it?'

  Biggles sat down on the table and thrust his hands into his pockets. 'My dear fellow,' he said quietly, 'we have been in several awkward corners in our long and somewhat chequered careers, but never in such a tight one as this.'

  'What are we going to do about it?'

  Biggles glanced round the bare stone walls. 'There doesn't seem to be much we can do, does there?' he said coolly.

  Chapter 17

  Ginger Takes the Warpath

  Ginger, lying on the bottom of the fuselage of the two-seater at the moment when the arrest was made, nearly gave himself away by his impetuosity, although it is true that he had no reason to suspect that matters were as serious as they really were. The actual sequence of events occurred in this order.

  After Algy had got out of the cockpit, he, Ginger, at once moved to follow him, but found to his annoyance that owing to his cramped position his right leg had what is called 'gone to sleep'. Muttering in his impatience, he proceeded to massage it vigorously to restore the circulation, and he was still employed in this unusual occupation when a few words of a conversation reached his ears, words that caused him to cease rubbing and adopt a curious attitude of attention. The actual words he heard were Biggles's sharply uttered 'What is the meaning of this?' when he had found himself suddenly confronted by Vilmsky. Needless to say he listened - all ears, as the saying is - for the reply, and he started when he heard Vilmsky's suave 'You are under arrest.'

  His next action was purely instinctive. Naturally, he wanted to see what was going on.

  Grabbing the seat, he pulled himself up, and for two or three seconds gazed wonderingly at the scene below him. It was fortunate for him, although in the circumstances it was only natural, that all eyes were on Biggles and Algy, for which reason his jack-in-the-box appearance passed unobserved. If, at that moment, he had made the slightest sound, or had one of the soldiers looked in his direction, he would, inevitably, have been discovered. Upon such slender threads do lives sometimes hang. Once the realization of what was happening penetrated into his startled brain, he sank down again, and from the floor of the cockpit heard the rest of the conversation.

  The few minutes' duration of this saw him in a fever of indecision, for without warning he found himself faced by a major problem. Two courses were open to him. Either he could sit still in the hope of escaping, when subsequently he might be able to effect a rescue, or he could attempt a rescue there and then. He had a loaded pistol in his pocket.

  Could he, with any real hope of success, take on seven or eight men - for he had seen at least that number - armed with rifles? No, he decided, he could not. In the fracas that would certainly ensue, it was inconceivable that none of them would be shot, and thus, instead of averting a tragedy, he might be the me
ans of causing one. In the end he decided on the former plan, although he drew his pistol prepared to put the latter into execution if discovery became imminent. As it happened, no one thought of looking into the two-seater from which two men had already emerged.

  He not only heard the rest of the affair, but he saw it, through a tiny hole which he cut in the fabric of the fuselage with the point of his pen-knife. He watched Biggles and Algy being marched across to the cars, and saw the cars disappear up the road in the direction of Janovica. Then, and not before, did he risk a cautious peep over the rim of the cockpit.

  Not a soul was in sight. Silence reigned. Where was Smyth? And Carter? Surely they should be about, or had they been arrested, too?

  Stealthily, with his pistol gripped ready for use, he climbed over the edge of the cockpit and dropped lightly to the ground. He could still see no one, so he darted into the trees and from there made a careful survey of the temporary hangar. Still he saw no one.

  Slowly, with every nerve taut, he crept forward until he stood at last at the entrance of the hangar. As his eyes probed the dim interior he saw Smyth, tied hand and foot, a bandage over his mouth, strapped to one of the upright logs. Ginger started to run towards him, but pulled up with a jerk as his horror-stricken eyes fell on something else.

  Carter lay at full length on the floor with his face in a little pool of blood.

  With trembling fingers Ginger took out his pen-knife and, not without difficulty, managed to get Smyth free. The sergeant almost collapsed when he attempted to move. '

  Look after Carter; I'm all right,' he said weakly. `What about the Skipper, and Mr Lacey?

  '

  `They've got them,' Ginger told him bitterly. 'What happened here?'

  `They just rushed in on us before we had a chance to do anything,' answered Smyth, dropping on his knees beside his comrade.

  Ìs he dead?' asked Ginger breathlessly.

  Ì don't think so. He started scrapping, and a dirty skunk knocked him on the head with a rifle-butt.'

  Ì'll do some knocking on the head before I'm through with this bunch of thugs,' swore Ginger. `Look, sergeant. I shall have to leave you here to take care of Carter while I go and let the Count or Mr Ludwig Stanhauser know what has happened. I'll have a doctor sent down to you if I can.'

  `You get off, sir. I'll manage somehow,' Smyth told him. `Try to let me know what happens.'

  Ì will,' Ginger promised, and putting the pistol in his pocket, he set off at a run towards the road. In fact, he ran all the way to the hotel, where he arrived breathless and nearly exhausted. Josef, who was sitting at his little desk, hurried towards him with concern written on his face when he saw the state his guest was in.

  `Vot iss it?' he asked tremulously.

  Ginger swallowed hard. 'Try to get Lieutenant Stanhauser on the telephone, will you?' he gasped. 'I must speak to him, or to Count Stanhauser, at once.'

  Josef fetched him something in a glass and then disappeared into his office. When he returned a few minutes later Ginger was more normal.

  `Well?' he inquired breathlessly.

  `The lieutenant, he comes,' declared Josef. 'By good chance he wos at 'ome.'

  Ginger sat down with a deep sigh of relief, while Josef hurried away and returned presently with some cold food on a plate, which Ginger attacked ravenously for he had not realized how hungry he was. He was also very tired, but the food helped to restore him. He pushed the plate aside, however, and sprang to his feet as Ludwig burst into the room. His face was pale with anxiety.

  'What has happened?' he asked tensely.

  In as few words as possible, Ginger told him.

  `But this is absurd. The general would not dare to do such a thing,' declared Ludwig.

  `Wouldn't he? He's done it,' answered Ginger, pacing up and down.

  And you heard Vilmsky say they were going to the barracks?'

  `That's what he said.'

  Ì will send a doctor to your mechanic at once, then I will see the Count. He is at the palace. If your friends are

  in the barracks we will soon have them out, don't worry. Remain here. Do nothing. I will come back.'

  Ginger caught Ludwig by the arm as he was hurrying from the room. 'Don't you let the Count go to the barracks by himself,' he warned him. 'There is no knowing what Bethstein will do. He is engineering something, and it must be pretty near zero hour for that to happen, whatever it may be, or he wouldn't risk such high-handed action as arresting Biggles.'

  `Do not fear. I shall not be long,' said Ludwig confidently.

  In this, however, he was mistaken, for darkness had fallen and the lamps had been lighted before he returned.

  Ginger, who had spent the hours feverishly pacing the room took one look at his face and felt his heart sink. `Well?' he asked.

  `They cannot be found,' said Ludwig wearily.

  Ginger sank into a chair. 'Cannot be found?' he echoed foolishly.

  `We have tried everywhere.'

  `But I distinctly heard Vilmsky say they were going to the barracks.'

  `Major Berner, one of her Highness's Imperial Guards, has been there. He says that the officer in charge of the garrison denies all knowledge of any English prisoners.'

  `Rot! I don't believe it,' stormed Ginger. 'Bethstein has got them locked up there. What has he got to say about it, anyway?'

  `We have been unable to find him.'

  Ginger stared incredulously. `Do you mean to tell me that in a country which calls itself civilized, on the eve of war, the government cannot get into touch with the commander-in-chief of its army?'

  Ludwig shrugged his shoulders. 'We only know that he is indisposed and has gone into the country for a short rest.'

  `He'll have a long rest if I ever get him where I want him,' grated Ginger, white-faced. '

  Such a rest that he'll never wake up again. Well, what are we going to do about it?'

  'Can you suggest anything? Her Highness and the Count are prepared to do anything, but they have already done all in their power. They cannot order your friends' release until they know where they are and who is holding them.'

  'No, I suppose that's true enough,' agreed Ginger disconsolately. 'Would it be any use my seeing the Count?'

  'He will see you with pleasure if you think it will help matters, but I think you should realize that the government is working feverishly to save the situation.'

  'What situation?'

  'War. Things are fast coming to a head. We can feel it in the air. The soldiers know it.

  You can see it on the faces of the people. Bethstein has engineered a coup d'etat , there is no doubt of that, and the storm may break at any moment.'

  'What will happen if it does?'

  'The princess may have to fly from the country.' 'Good heavens! Is it as bad as that?'

  'Unhappily, yes. You and your friends have done much, and I believe it is fear of what you may yet do that caused Bethstein to hasten his plans. In the circumstances, individuals must take second place to affairs of state, and you must forgive the princess and the Count if they do not devote their whole time to your friends, much as they would like to help them and anxious as they are for their safety.'

  `Yes, I appreciate that,' replied Ginger slowly. 'Perhaps it would be better if I kept out of the way. What is the government doing about all this?'

  Ìt is busy making plans on the lines suggested by your chief, but I am afraid we have left it rather late and it is now a race against time.'

  Ginger nodded. As far as he was concerned the affairs of Maltovia were now of secondary importance. 'What are you going to do?' he asked.

  `For the moment I am at your disposal, but when Bethstein strikes I shall have to leave you and go to my regiment. You understand that if Bethstein succeeds in his plan, loyal people like myself will lose their lives.'

  'And I shall lose mine, or Bethstein his,' declared Ginger savagely. 'He's the man I'm going to find. You say he has gone into the country? Where would that be like
ly to be?'

  'I expect he would go to his hunting-box.'

  Ginger started. 'Why, that's the place that was marked on the map we found in the Lovitznian aeroplane.'

  `Yes, that is so.'

  Ginger struck the table with his fist. 'That's it!' he cried. `That is where the plot is hatching. How far away is it?' `Forty miles - perhaps a little more.'

  `You've got a car?'

  `Yes.'

  `Where is it?'

  Òutside.'

  `Come on, then, let's go.'

  Ludwig hesitated. 'It's rather a risky thing to do, isn't it, like - how do you say? - jumping into the lion's mouth?' Ginger smiled cynically. 'Ludwig,' he said frankly, 'if you people had tackled the lion a little earlier, you wouldn't be in the mess you are in now. Well, I'm going to jump into Bethstein's den with a pistol in my hand. It's time he was shown a thing or two. The question is, do I go by myself or are you coming with me?

  '

  A curious gleam came into Ludwig's eyes. 'I believe you're right,' he said. 'I will come with you.'

  'Got a pistol?'

  `Yes.'

  'That's fine. Then let's get a move on.' Ginger looked at the clock. 'Seven o'clock. We ought to be there before nine.'

  'I must report to the Count before I go.'

  Àll right. You can tell him to stand by for a big bang. I've got a feeling in my bones that I am going to make a noise before this night is over.'

  Ludwig smiled. 'I'll help you do it,' he promised enthusiastically. 'Things have been quiet here for too long.'

  'Much too long,' agreed Ginger.

  Chapter 18

  A Startling Discovery

  Ginger had never been so worried in his life as he was during the run out to the general's hunting-box, which was situated in the midst of wild, uncultivated country, for now that he had taken the plunge a doubt had arisen in his mind, and he could not shake off the feeling that he might be running away from Biggles instead of towards him. Moreover, it was a good deal later than he had estimated, for Ludwig had been detained for some time at the palace. Of the conversation that had taken place between the Count and his nephew he knew nothing beyond the fact that the Count had said that he could not see what good purpose they hoped to serve by leaving Janovica. So much Ludwig had admitted. Nor, for that matter, could Ginger. He had made no plans, nor did he know what he hoped to achieve beyond the wild idea that if he could get within striking distance of the general he would force him, by violence if necessary, to tell him where Biggles and Algy were being detained. Had he known the true facts of the case, that they were, at that moment, lying under sentence of death, anything might have happened, so perhaps it was as well that he did not. As it was, he had calmed somewhat by the time Ludwig, who was driving, slowed down and declared that they were getting near their destination.