He now left the machine and walked without haste to the tent. He went straight to the open entrance and looked inside. "Good morning," he greeted. "Mind if I come in ? "
Without waiting for an answer he took a pace forward.
Neither the man nor the woman, who were seated
taking breakfast at a folding camp table, answered. They stared, motionless, in the positions in which Biggles' appearance had found them.
Eventually the man lowered his fork. " Er—yes—er—come in," he stammered.
"I gather you weren't expecting visitors ? " said Biggles evenly.
"No—that is—not exactly." The man spoke with a pronounced accent.
"You are Mr. and Mrs. Steiner, I believe ? " went on Biggles.
"Yes, that's right," confirmed the man jerkily, with a swift glance at his wife. "Who have I the pleasure of addressing ? "
"It may not be altogether a pleasure," returned Biggles dispassionately.
"My name is Bigglesworth. I am a police inspector from Scotland Yard. It will not, I think, be necessary for me to tell you why I am here ? "
The woman found her voice. Her English was better than the man's. "I don't know what you're talking about," she declared with asperity. "What do you want with us ? "
"I want you to consider yourselves under arrest on several charges, one of which is illicit diamond buying," answered Biggles. "I hope, in your own interests, that you will behave sensibly."
There was another brief silence, tense with expectancy.
It was broken by the man. "Such nonsense ! " he scoffed. "What made you think we had diamonds ? "
" D'you happen to have a cigarette on you ? " inquired Biggles.
The man produced a tin—a small tin with a blue lid.
"As a matter of detail it was a tin like that which led me to suspect it," said Biggles. "I must warn you that anything you say may be used as evidence—"
"Take no notice of him, Karl," burst out the woman. "He can't prove a thing ! " Her hand crept towards a holstered revolver that hung on the back of her chair.
"That line of argument won't help you, Mrs. Steiner," said Biggles quietly. "Neither will violence."
"I can explain everything," blurted the man, who seemed more unnerved than his wife.
"The court will be pleased to hear that," asserted Biggles.
The woman suddenly snatched up the revolver and levelled it. "Now what have you got to say ? " she sneered.
"I have nothing to add to what I have already said," replied Biggles imperturbably. "
Except, of course, that by resisting arrest you are only making matters worse for yourself," he added.
It may have been that Biggles' nonchalant manner carried weight. At all events, the woman lowered the revolver although she still held it in her hand. "You'll have a job to find any diamonds here," she said bitingly.
Biggles smiled faintly. "I happen to know where they are."
"How do you know that ? "
"I watched you sorting them last night."
The woman's lips became a thin, bloodless line. Turning on her husband in a fury, and speaking in German, she snapped : "I told you we should have finished off that old man right away. He's responsible for this ! "
"It may be a good thing for both of you if Angus Soutar is still alive,"
said Biggles, in the same language. "If he's dead you may find yourselves involved in a charge of murder."
"He's still alive," muttered Steiner, returning to English. "We had nothing to do with that.
It was the Chief. Here he comes now."
The woman laughed unpleasantly. "Yes, we'll hear what he has to say about this."
Biggles glanced over his shoulder. A tall, powerful-looking native, carrying a short, broad-bladed spear, was walking towards the tent, a string of his men following.
Speaking to Steiner Biggles said. "My business for the moment is with you, not him. I've given you my advice. Are you coming with me or are you going to make trouble ? "
"Where are your men ? " asked Steiner.
"Some way from here."
"Does that mean walking ? "
"For a distance, yes."
"Why not let me fly you in my plane ? " offered Steiner, with a curious gleam in his eyes.
"Yes," urged the woman, eagerly.
"I don't like that idea very much," said Biggles, almost apologetically.
"I might fall out—
if you decided you didn't like my company."
"Smart guy," rasped the woman. "Come on, Karl. Let's go. He can't stop us. The Chief will deal with him. In ten minutes we can be in Belgian territory. He can't touch us there.
"
"Yes, that may be the best way," said Steiner slowly, his eyes on Biggles' face.
"It may not be such an easy way as you imagine," averred Biggles. "You see, I took the precaution of immobilising your machine before I came to the tent. The keel is resting on the mud and there's a foot of water in the cabin."
The hate that sprang into the woman's eyes left Biggles in no doubt as to how she felt about that. What she actually did was something for which he was not prepared.
Snatching up a small bag from the table she dashed outside and flung its contents into the long grass over a wide area. "There's your evidence ! "
she grated. "Now go and find it."
Biggles shook his head sadly. "That's the first time in my life I've seen anyone throw away a handful of diamonds."
"It'll be the last, too, if I have my way," flamed the woman. She spun round to the tall native who was now standing at the entrance of the tent, obviously at a loss to know what was happening. "This man is a policeman ! "she shouted. "He has come to take you away and put you in jail ! "
To what extent the Chief understood English Biggles did not know ; but it was evident from his expression that, even if he did not fully grasp the situation, he realised that Biggles was an enemy. He half raised his spear threateningly.
"Kill him ! " cried the woman. She seemed on the verge of hysteria.
"Shut up Hilda ! " snapped Steiner, whose nerve appeared to be cracking.
Biggles looked the Chief straight in the eye. "You bring Sootoo," he ordered sternly.
The Chief blinked, as if things were going too fast for his primitive brain.
"He's going to hang you ! " shouted the woman. "Quiet, Hilda," said Steiner, almost plaintively. The Chief turned to the door and surveyed the landscape. Turning back to Biggles he said: "Where safari?" "He hasn't any men ! " cried Mrs. Steiner. "He's alone ! "
The Chief raised his spear, and thereafter things happened faster than they can be described. Biggles' automatic appeared in his hand. A quick movement behind him brought him round, sidestepping as he turned. Almost simultaneously Mrs. Steiner's revolver spat, the report sounding strangely flat in the enclosed space. The Chief flinched. His eyes opened wide. The spear drooped and slipped from his hand. Then, quite slowly, he sank to the ground. Silence fell.
Cordite smoke reeked. Mrs. Steiner stared as if fascinated at the man she had shot ; and still she stared, unprotesting, as Biggles took the revolver from her fingers and put it in his pocket.
Steiner, ashen-faced, was the first to speak. "You fool," he muttered thickly. "They'll kill us all now."
This seemed likely. Natives, muttering, were crowding near the entrance.
And the note of the muttering was rising, growing fiercer in tone.
"Stand still, both of you," ordered Biggles curtly, and turned to face the mob. But before he could speak again the noise faded suddenly to a sullen hiss. This, too, died, as a wave dies on a shingle beach. All heads turned towards the lake, faces uplifted, as into the sultry silence crept a new and even more significant sound. It was the vibrant drone of aircraft engines, distant as yet, but swelling swiftly in volume.
"My men are coming now," said Biggles quietly.
The natives, who apparently had already realised it, were beginning to back away. Some broke into
a run. A spear was thrown but it did no harm.
The retreat became a stampede.
It was not until Biggles stepped clear of the tent that he fully understood why. Coming up the lake was not the one aircraft he expected, but two. The Saro was leading. Behind it, looking majestic in its size and power, came a four-engined flying boat wearing R.A.
F. insignia. The roar of motors died abruptly as the machines lost height to land.
Mrs. Steiner, her passion spent, buried her face in her hands and burst into tears. Her husband looked on helplessly, miserably.
Biggles dropped on his knees beside the Chief and found the bullet wound in his chest. "
He isn't dead," he told Steiner, "but not being a doctor I can't say what his chances are.
Maybe the troops have brought a doctor with them. Wait here." He went out and walked towards the lake, where the machines were now taxying towards the shore. The Saro was first in. Ginger and Tommy jumped out. From the cabin door of the big machine emerged an R.A.F. officer, followed closely by a file of airmen carrying rifles.
"It's all over bar the shouting,' Biggles told Ginger as he ran up. "You timed your arrival nicely. Things were beginning to look ugly. Where did you collect the Air Force ? "
"The Air Commodore organised that with H.Q. Middle East," answered Ginger. "I waited for them at Entebbe and brought them along. We landed at the creek, but when Tommy told me where you were we came right on."
Biggles turned to the officer. "Have you got a doctor with you ? "
"Yes."
"Good. There's a job for him in the tent. There are two people there.
Take care of them till I come back, but I don't think they'll give you any trouble. They're in plenty already."
Biggles turned to Tommy. "Come with me," he requested, and walked towards the village.
They had not far to go, for by this time the village had been evacuated in a panic and the man Biggles hoped to find came staggering towards them. At least, so Biggles judged from the behaviour of Tommy, who ran forward with a shout of, " Dad ! "
Biggles lit a cigarette while the reunion was effected. Then, observing the feeble state the old man was in, he remarked : "The sooner we get your father to civilization the better, I think. There's no need for us to hang about here, anyway. Let's get along." He turned back towards the tent.
Little remains to be told. Angus Soutar and the
wounded Chief were flown forthwith to Egypt for medical treatment. Tommy accompanied his father, who was soon well enough to return to his old occupation.
Fortunately for Mrs. Steiner the Chief survived, although he was not allowed to return to his people for some time. By then a guard had been put over the diamond diggings.
Karl Steiner wisely made a clean breast of the whole affair, describing how, while searching for subjects for photography, he had called at Ubeni, where he had been offered diamonds. He confessed that he had succumbed to temptation and bartered gin and other stores for them. He still had the original parcel in his London house. They were taken over by the police. His big mistake was going back for more, and although he did not say so it was clear that for this his wife had been mainly responsible. He escaped with a heavy fine, but Mrs. Steiner, on a more serious charge of attempted murder, spent the next year of her life in prison.
ALL IN THE DAY'S WORK
THE Air Police " Proctor " aircraft climbed slowly, on test, fifteen thousand feet above its home airfield in Surrey, which could sometimes be seen through breaks in a layer of filmy summer cloud. Biggles sat at the controls, his eyes moving thoughtfully over the instrument panel. Beside him, Ginger, with two-way radio earphones in position, also watched the dials with interest.
"She seems to be all right now," remarked Biggles.
Ginger did not comment. His head turned a trifle so that his eyes met those of his chief. "
There's an urgent signal coming through," he said, reaching for his note pad. "It's Algy speaking." He listened for a minute or two, making notes,
and then reported : " Algy says the Air Commodore is on the phone. We've got to grab the pilot of an Auster Autocrat, registration, G-KXRY. The machine belongs to Inter-avian Hire Service. It left Croydon five minutes ago."
"Get the rest of the gen," ordered Biggles, altering course a trifle.
Ginger listened again and resumed : "The pilot is named Lester Wolfe.
He's a cypher clerk at the War Office. He's bolted with some vital documents. A warning was sent to all ports and airfields, but it was too late. Wolfe had just left Croydon."
"Did he tell Interavian where he was going ? "
"He said he was going to Glasgow, but he was last seen heading south. The documents concern Western Union defence plans. The Air Commodore says they must be recovered at any cost. Algy says there's a deuce of a flap going on about them."
"Sounds as if the fellow's making for the Continent," opined Biggles.
"Are his papers in order ? "
Ginger passed on the question. "Yes," he replied presently. " Interavian say his papers were okay. The Air Ministry is on the job and all stations are trying to pick the Auster up by radar."
"Okay," replied Biggles. "Keep your eyes skinned. If the machine headed south we shouldn't be far from its track. Ask Algy to ask the Air Commodore what he wants me to do. Obviously we can't do anything while the Auster is airborne."
There was another pause. Then Ginger answered. "Take any steps to recover the papers.
We've got to get them back at any cost. Algy says we're to get the man if we can, but the papers are the most important. They make a bulky packet.
Wolfe was carrying a portfolio, so presumably they're in it."
Five minutes passed and Ginger spoke again. " Hello—yes ? " he said sharply. Then, to Biggles : "Radar reports an Auster approaching the coast between Brighton and Worthing."
" That's better," replied Biggles. "We'll have a look at him. With speed and height of this bird we should soon be able to pick him up." The nose of the Proctor swung a little, and dipped. The needle of the air speed indicator crept up the dial. "It looks as if he's making for France,"
went on Biggles. "Is the Air Commodore asking France to take a hand ?
You'd better find out so that we know what we're doing."
Ginger made the inquiry, then looked up. "The answer is no. Algy says if the papers fall into other hands, even for an hour, they could no longer be regarded as secret and two years work will have gone west. There seems to be a terrific flap going on about the whole business."
"Okay," said Biggles. "Tell Algy to expect us when he sees us. Find out how much petrol the Auster had in its tanks."
Ginger put the question. "The machine is the long-range type, and started topped up," he reported.
"Which means, if my memory serves me, that it has an endurance of five hundred miles,"
observed Biggles. "We can beat it there, anyhow, I mean, if we can find it we shall be with it when it lands—wherever that may be. Good thing we started with full tanks."
The Proctor droned on, heading south, over broken cloud which, as often happens, dispersed when the English Channel was reached.
It was Ginger who spotted the Auster. His roving eyes picked up a tiny speck, far below, that might have been a water spider crawling towards the vast, hedge-less fields of Northern France. "There he is ! "he said sharply. "At any rate, there's a small machine, and not very fast."
Biggles dived steeply towards the aircraft indicated.
Five minutes sufficed to confirm Ginger's opinion. Not only was the machine revealed to be an Auster, but it carried the registration letters of the aircraft chartered by the absconding clerk.
"Our problem now," remarked Biggles, as he took up a position well above and behind the Auster, "is how to get our hands on the papers. It's anybody's guess what Wolfe will do next. He may land anywhere. He may have arranged to meet an accomplice somewhere."
"What's his idea do you suppose ? " asked G
inger.
41 Biggles Takes The Case Page 11