Biggles and the Poor Rich Boy

by W E Johns

  ‘Well, let’s try to get things sorted out, old boy,’ put in Bertie. ‘If Cornelli and the lad didn’t leave by train, or by air, they must still be in the district.’

  ‘They could have gone by coach or they might have bought or hired another car.’

  ‘But they handed their car in,’ argued Eddie. ‘They wouldn’t have done that had they intended to travel by road.’

  ‘If Cornelli thought the number of that shooting brake had been noted by anyone he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it fast enough. With the Viper after him that brake was hot — too dangerous to keep.’

  ‘The boy wouldn’t understand what all the rush was about and Cornelli couldn’t very well tell him,’ said Ginger. ‘Carlo might insist on staying in Scotland, fishing.’

  ‘Could be,’ conceded Biggles. ‘Scotland isn’t a big country, but it’s too big for us to search without a line to work on. It isn’t the only country where fishing is available. Anyway, there’s nothing more we can do here. I suggest we go back to Inverness and sleep on it. We’ll decide on the next move in the morning. I’ll put a call through to Gaskin from the hotel and tell him what’s happened. He may be able to do something. He could at least have the sea and airports watched in case Cornelli tries to leave the country. Let’s go.’

  They went out to the car, which was still waiting, and started back for Inverness. On the way Biggles spoke to Eddie seriously. ‘I’m sorry, but you realize I can’t go on with this hunt much longer. I’ve other things to do.’

  ‘Sure. I understand that. It’s swell of you to have given me so much of your time.’

  ‘The trouble is, the thing could go on indefinitely,’ continued Biggles. ‘As I see it this run-around could last until one of two things happens. Cornelli might get sick of carting the boy around with him or he may run short of money. One or the other is almost certain to happen eventually. I can’t see Cornelli sticking a country life for long. His type belong to the cities. There’s another danger for the boy there. When Cornelli gets short of cash the chances are he’ll try to get some the way he’s always got it, by crime; and without knowing what he’s doing the kid might find himself involved in some racket and either end up in gaol or become a professional crook.’

  ‘Cornelli wouldn’t be above using him,’ agreed Eddie, morosely. ‘This assignment was tough enough at the start, but now Cornelli knows someone is trailing him he’ll be even harder to catch up with. He knows all the tricks.’

  ‘We’ve just seen an example of that in the way he bought those air tickets and didn’t use ‘em. The ruse succeeded. It put us off the track and I don’t see how we are going to get on it again.’

  ‘I think we’ve two chances,’ put in Ginger. ‘We know the two things the boy dotes on—flying and fishing. He may not have had enough of either so why not work on those?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Let’s start with fishing, because I can’t help feeling that had flying been of first importance Cornelli would have used those air tickets.’

  ‘There are a hundred rivers in Scotland where he might fish. We haven’t time to tour the length of all of ‘em.’

  ‘That may not be necessary. You said yourself most of the hotels get full up. At this time of the year most of the fishings will have been taken. Any that are not will be advertised in the local papers. If Cornelli agrees to let the boy go on fishing what will he do? He can’t know anything about Scottish rivers. He’ll either make inquiries or look at the local papers. Why not look at the papers ourselves and see what fishing is vacant?’

  ‘I think you’ve got something there,’ said Biggles, approvingly. ‘It’s a chance. It would at least give us a line to work on. I think you’re right about the flying angle. Had Cornelli been really anxious to leave Scotland he could have used those tickets and gone on anywhere, anyhow, when he got to London. The fact that he didn’t use the tickets does suggest he wanted to stay here. For what reason other than to go on fishing?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Eddie, with fresh hope in his voice. ‘Ginger’s right. Let’s start with the hotels within easy reach.’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Biggles. ‘But we shan’t do much today; it’s four o’clock now.’

  ‘Well, here we are back where we started from,’ he went on, as they stopped in front of the Station Hotel. ‘When I’ve paid this taxi we’ll go along to the garage where we hired that drive-yourself car and get the same one, or another. We shall then be all set for tomorrow. We can’t do anything without a car.’

  The taxi paid, they all walked on to the garage.

  There they had a stroke of what Ginger called luck, although considering all the circumstances there was really nothing extraordinary about it.

  The garage proprietor greeted them with a smile. ‘Ah! I believe you’re the gentlemen who were looking for Mr Cornelli and his son.’

  ‘That’s right,’ returned Biggles.

  ‘He’s been back.’

  Biggles’s expression changed abruptly. His face was a picture of astonishment. ‘You mean — he’s been back — here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Not long ago. You just missed him.’

  ‘Not again,’ groaned Bertie.

  ‘Why did he come back here?’ questioned Biggles.

  ‘He wanted a car.’

  ‘What sort of car? You mean he wanted to hire one?’

  ‘No. Not this time. He bought one.’

  ‘The deuce he did. What was it?’

  ‘A second-hand Morris I had here for sale.’

  ‘Did he say why he wanted it?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact he did. Well, he told me he was going fishing and just wanted something to get him up and down the river.’

  ‘What river?’

  ‘I don’t think he knew. He asked me what were the best fishings in these parts. Being a fisherman I could tell him.’

  ‘Where did you suggest he went?’

  ‘Oh, I gave him a dozen places not too far away.’

  ‘While I remember; could you give us the number of the car you sold him?’

  ‘Surely. PX 4001. You can’t mistake it. It’s been repainted light blue.’

  ‘Did you by any chance tell him some friends were looking for him?’

  ‘No. I meant to but I forgot. He went off in a hurry and I remembered it too late.’

  ‘Which way did he go when he left here?’

  The garage man pointed. ‘I told him to go over the bridge and then turn left to follow the river.’

  ‘What river?’

  ‘I see you’re a stranger to these parts. Our river. The Ness. Follow the river and you come to the Loch.’

  ‘There’s fishing in the Ness?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Did you suggest it?’

  ‘No. Mr Cornelli said he didn’t want to stay in Inverness, so I thought he might try some of the smaller places farther on; perhaps try boat fishing on the Loch itself. You can hire boats for fishing.’

  ‘What hotels are there near the Loch?’

  ‘I suggested they might try Drumnadrochit. That’s about fifteen miles on. There are two hotels there. Then there’s the Glenmoriston Arms at Invermorston, about twenty-seven miles, and the Lovat Arms at Fort Augustus at the far end of the Loch.’

  ‘How far’s that?’

  ‘Thirty-four miles.’

  ‘Thanks. That’s about as far as we shall get today.’

  ‘I also mentioned the Garry. That’s a nice sporting little river. Fine scenery. That’s another seven or eight miles on. You’ll see the turning on the right for Invergarry. There’s a nice little hotel there, the Invergarry. The Garry fish can run big.’

  ‘If I went straight on after that where would I come to?’

  ‘Fort William, and finally Balluchulish, on the West Coast. If you took the Invergarry road you’d be on the Road to the Isles and the Kyle of Lochalsh. I can lend you an A.A. Guide if you like.’

  ‘Thanks. I�
�m much obliged to you,’ acknowledged Biggles. ‘We really came to see you about hiring a car for a day or two.’

  The man smiled. ‘You’ll need one if you’re going to tour all the places I’ve mentioned. Would you like the same car you had before — the Humber?’

  ‘Yes. That’ll do us fine. There’s plenty of leg room.’

  ‘Will you take it now?’

  ‘Just a minute while I have a word with my friends about it.’ Biggles turned to the others. ‘Well, what shall we do? It’s half-past four now and we’ve a lot of ground to cover. Do we spend the night here and make an early start in the morning or do we press on right away?’

  ‘I’m all for pushing on,’ declared Eddie, without hesitation. ‘We tried waiting the night once before and missed the boat. It doesn’t seem to get dark here till around eleven, so there’s still plenty of daylight left.’

  ‘That’s okay with me,’ agreed Biggles. ‘We’ll get some sandwiches in case we get stuck on the road.’

  ‘Here, I say, hold hard, old boy,’ put in Bertie. ‘I’ve a better idea.’

  Biggles looked suspicious. ‘What is it this time?’

  ‘Why bother with a bally car?’

  ‘What else would you use — a push-bike?’

  ‘No jolly fear. What’s wrong with the Proctor? After all, what’s the use of an aircraft if we don’t take advantage of it — if you see what I mean ?’

  ‘I see what you mean, but it wouldn’t work.’

  ‘Why is it my schemes never seem to work?’ complained Bertie, plaintively. ‘With an aircraft we could—’

  ‘I know. Cover the ground ten times as fast.’

  ‘That’s it. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Several things. In the first place it’s unlikely that the car we’re looking for is the only blue car in Scotland. Secondly, the one we’re looking for might now be under cover, in a hotel garage, for instance. But if we did spot the right car from the air what would we do about it?’

  ‘We should know where it was — wouldn’t we?’

  ‘At that particular moment yes. So what? You can see what the country’s like. We couldn’t get down to it. It would mean going back to the aerodrome. By the time we’d done that, got a car, and driven back to where we’d last seen the car, it could be a hundred miles away.’

  Bertie was not to be put off. ‘There’s a brolly in the machine. I’d put it on, and if we spotted the car I’d step out somewhere in front of it.’

  ‘And arrive on the top of a mountain or land in a loch.’

  ‘Not at all. I should be able to hit the road.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘I’d step out and stop the car.’

  ‘If it wasn’t the right one you’d look a fool.’

  ‘But it might be the right one.’

  ‘That’d be worse still. Cornelli wouldn’t stop, so you’d either be knocked flat or left standing on the road with no way of getting back to us.’

  ‘Oh dash it! Why do you always think of all the snags?’

  ‘I’ve told you before, maybe it’s a good thing for you I do. Don’t get me wrong. While I admire your zeal and your nerve, my dear chap, I’m not so taken with your notions as to let you do anything silly. Forget it. This is an occasion when we have to use a car to get about.’

  Bertie sighed. ‘I don’t know why I trouble to think,’ he said, sadly.

  ‘Be patient, laddie. You’ll get your chance,’ promised Biggles. He turned to the garage man. ‘We’ll take the car. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  ‘Very well. I’ll have it ready. I’ll fill up with petrol and put an A.A. Guide in the panel in case you get lost.’

  As they walked away Biggles said: ‘You fellows see about getting some tuck while I put a call through to the office to confirm that this jaunt is all right with the chief. I don’t think there can be anything urgent or I’d have heard from Algy. See you presently, at the garage.’

  CHAPTER 7

  ‘SO NEAR AND YET—’

  ‘I’VE been on some wild goose hunts in my time, but I never started one with less hope of getting on terms with the birds,’ admitted Biggles, as they set off in the hired car, running alongside the River Ness. ‘I’ll tell you something else,’ he told Ginger, who was sitting beside him with the A.A. road map on his knees. ‘With all this car hiring the Air Commodore will take a dim view of my expense account when I send it in.’

  ‘It’s in a good cause,’ remarked Eddie, from behind.

  ‘At least we have a good road, old boy, and the weather’s fine,’ said Bertie. ‘This suits me.’

  After covering seven or eight miles of what had become the Caledonian Canal the water broadened to the beginning of the Loch famous for its alleged ‘monster’.

  ‘What a lark if we spotted the jolly old monster,’ said Bertie, brightly.

  ‘The only monster I’m interested in at present is Cornelli,’ returned Biggles, soberly. ‘What I’m afraid of is, if he finds the pursuit getting too hot for him, or should that unfortunate boy demand to be told the reason for all this rushing about, he may murder him. There are plenty of lonely places here where he might get away with it. In his heart he must hate the lad, the son of the man he’s really trying to hurt. Let’s not forget that as a gangster he’s probably been involved in more than one killing.’

  ‘Oh, come off it, old boy,’ protested Bertie. ‘Why be so depressing? If you go on like that you’ll have me bursting into tears.’

  ‘Well, don’t do it here,’ answered Biggles. He smiled faintly. ‘When I was at school the Head had a favourite phrase I’ve never forgotten. He used to say: “If you must cry, boy, cry in your bed where people can’t see you. They’re not interested in your troubles.” But this looks like that place — what do they call it — Drumnadrochit. Watch for a light blue car. If we don’t see it outside one of the hotels we shall have to ask inside. At this time of day, if Cornelli’s here, it might be standing outside. We shall have to be careful how we go about it. You can be sure Cornelli’s ears will be wide open.’

  They found neither Cornelli nor his car at Drumnadrochit. Biggles hesitated at the side road at the Lewiston Arms Hotel, but saying it was all a matter of luck went on down the Loch.

  ‘We shouldn’t lose sight of the possibility that Cornelli never had the slightest intention of coming this way,’ he remarked. ‘I mean, if he suspects he’s being followed, what he said to that garage man may have been a deliberate attempt to cover up his track. He might have started this way and doubled back. He might go anywhere. The fact that he now has his own car makes him independent of all public services.’

  ‘If he intended returning to Inverness he wouldn’t have bought a car, he’d have hired one,’ reasoned Eddie.

  ‘True enough. The fact that he has bought a car suggests he means to go some distance. If that’s so we’re wasting our time. I’d do better to ring Gaskin and get him to try to trace the car by routine methods. But just in case we should catch up with them, Eddie, you’d better tell me what you intend to do.’

  ‘I shall tell the boy the truth and ask him to come home with me.’

  ‘And if he refuses?’

  ‘I shall contact our Embassy in London. They know all about the boy being kidnapped. I imagine they’d ask your head people in London to take action.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘The boy’s passion for fishing may influence Cornelli in what he does. The only way to get him away from these rivers would be to suggest they did some flying.’

  Bertie stepped in. ‘I say, chaps, I’ve a notion we’re being followed.’

  ‘By what?’ asked Biggles sharply.

  ‘A black saloon car. It’s keeping the same distance behind us. Twice when you’ve slowed down a bit, it has done the same thing.’

  ‘Well — well. There’s only one man likely to follow us.’

  ‘If the Viper thinks we’re following a clue, he won’t take his eyes off us,’ declared Eddie
.

  ‘I suppose he could have shadowed us. We’ll soon settle it. I’ll pull up and have a look at the Loch. We might be tourists looking for the monster.’ Biggles ran the car close in to the curb and allowed it to run to a stop. The Loch, perhaps a hundred feet below, still stretched away to left and right. One or two small craft were on it, the occupants presumably fishing.

  ‘The guy behind us has stopped,’ Eddie informed them.

  Biggles cruised on a little way and stopped again.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Eddie, shortly. ‘He’s stopped. That settles any argument. That’s the Viper all right. What do we do about it?’

  Biggles lit a cigarette. ‘I don’t see that we can do anything about it.’

  ‘Oh, nuts to that,’ snapped Eddie. ‘I’ll go and tell him to pack up.’

  ‘He’ll laugh in your face. If he thinks we’re on a hot scent he’ll stay with us, and short of shooting a hole in one of his tyres, which legally would put us in the wrong, I don’t see how we can stop him. We have one advantage over him and maybe he suspects it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘We have a description of Cornelli’s car. He hasn’t, or he wouldn’t trouble to tail us. He’d be hunting on his own account.’ As he finished speaking Biggles let in the clutch and cruised on.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘Carry on with what we were doing. If we don’t find Cornelli the Viper will have wasted his time.’

  ‘And if we should find him?’

  ‘We’ll deal with that situation when it arises. If it comes to a showdown, and the Viper tries to use force, we should be able to show him where he steps off.’

  To the astonishment of everyone in the Humber this arose within the next five minutes.

  Standing well tucked in the side of the road, facing them, on the loch side, was a light blue car, which presently could be identified as a Morris. Its number was PX 4001. In a word, it was the car they were looking for.