Biggles and the Poor Rich Boy

by W E Johns

  Eddie let out a cry of delight. ‘We’ve got ‘em.’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Biggles, cautiously.

  ‘Well, chase Aunt Annie round the gasworks!’ exclaimed Bertie. ‘Would you believe it?’

  ‘I’m ready to believe anything,’ asserted Biggles. ‘One thing’s certain. They can’t be far away.’

  ‘They must be down beside the water.’

  ‘We’ll soon see.’ Biggles swung the Humber round across the road and brought it to a stop close behind the Morris. He jumped out and confirmed there was no one in it. With the rest, who had followed him, he walked to the top of the bank that overlooked the Loch.

  The broad stretch of water, as flat as a sheet of glass, now lay about two hundred feet below at the bottom of a steep rocky slope covered with a dense growth of bushes and young trees. Through this jungle, bordered by rank moss, a narrow track zigzagged down to a boat-house and a short wooden jetty. There was no one there. On the water, stationary, and perhaps a quarter of a mile out, floated a boat a trifle larger than an ordinary dinghy. In it were two people. One, the smaller, was casting with a rod. The other sat in the stern, one arm resting on the tiller. An object behind him looked like an outboard motor, and this in fact it turned out to be.

  ‘That’s ‘em!’ exclaimed Eddie, in a voice pitched high with excitement. ‘We’ve got ‘em. All we have to do is wait here for ‘em to come back to their car.’

  Biggles glanced back along the road. ‘That black saloon has stopped.’

  ‘So what? They can’t know this Morris is Cornelli’s. Nor can they from here recognize the people in the boat. It’s too far away. They may imagine we’ve merely stopped here to admire the scenery.’

  They’ll think differently when they see Cornelli and the boy come up to the car.’

  ‘Then let’s go down to the jetty and wait there.’

  ‘That’s a better idea.’

  ‘What about our car?’ queried Ginger. ‘Can we leave it here?’

  ‘I don’t think the Viper’s likely to interfere with it. He’s nothing to gain by that. He’s following us. He wants to know where we’re going. By immobilizing our car he’d defeat his object. Let’s go down.’

  In single file they made their way down to the water, and there, having nothing to do except wait, they found seats on the bank.

  ‘They must have got the key of the boat-house from some hotel, possibly in Fort Augustus,’ remarked Biggles. ‘Or, of course, they may have hired the boat from a house beside the Loch where boats are let out to fishermen.’

  They waited for half an hour, watching the boy fishing. He caught nothing. Then came the sound for which they had all been hoping — the unmistakable noise of a reel when the line is wound in. The outboard motor was started and the boat began chugging its way towards the jetty.

  ‘Here they come,’ breathed Eddie. ‘I don’t think it matters if they see us. They can’t know any of us by sight.’

  Biggles agreed.

  The boat came on, rippling the calm water, and it was soon possible to recognize the occupants. All possible doubt was then settled. They were the man who now called himself Cornelli, and the boy he had kidnapped.

  ‘It’s them all right,’ declared Eddie, with intense satisfaction. They can’t get away from us now.’

  Then something unexpected happened. The boat was not more than thirty yards distant when Cornelli put the tiller hard over, with the result that the little craft yawed wildly as it turned away.

  Biggles sprang to his feet. ‘What’s he doing?’

  A curse behind caused him to spin round, when Cornelli’s behaviour was at once explained. The Viper and his companion were standing there, in plain view, only two or three paces away. Apparently they had just arrived on the scene and Cornelli could not have failed to see them.

  The Viper had an automatic in his hand. He shouted to Cornelli to come back or he’d shoot. Cornelli ignored the threat, except to crouch low, a sure indication that he had heard it. The Viper took aim. Ginger, not six yards away, snatched up a lump of rock and threw it. It struck the Viper on the side of the head. He staggered, stumbled and fell. The gun flew out of his hand. Biggles jumped forward, snatched it up and tossed it into the Loch. Cursing luridly the Viper scrambled to his feet. Bertie knocked him down again. Eddie was wrestling with the other man.

  ‘All right! That’s enough,’ shouted Biggles.

  The boat, running parallel with the shore, close in, could no longer be seen, but the put-put-put of its motor could be heard receding. The tangle of undergrowth, which ran right down to the edge of the water, made it impossible to follow along the bank.

  Breathing heavily the opposing sides faced each other, the Viper with a hand to his head where the rock had struck. He was white with passion. Biggles, too, was pale with anger.

  ‘I’ll get you for this,’ rasped the Viper, glaring at Biggles.

  ‘What do you mean by following me?’ flung back Biggles.

  ‘I’ll—’ The Viper nearly choked.

  ‘Shut up,’ snapped Biggles. ‘You’re not in America now. One more word from you and I’ll have you arrested for carrying a gun.’

  Silence fell. Ginger could no longer hear the boat.

  Then Eddie, looking at Biggles, said quietly: ‘They’ll have to come back for their car.’

  ‘They won’t land here now,’ returned Biggles. ‘I wonder can they get ashore lower down the Loch?’

  All this was said in front of the Viper. As he was still standing there it could not be avoided.

  ‘We’d better get up to the road,’ decided Eddie.

  The Viper made a quick move towards the path, but Bertie was faster and blocked his way. ‘Not so fast,’ he said, tartly.

  Biggles hesitated, and the reason must have been plain to everyone. Such a situation could not have been foreseen and it presented a problem for which there appeared to be no answer. It was obvious that the two gangsters would make for the road at the first opportunity and there was no legitimate way of preventing this. In the matter of numbers they were outmatched two to one, but short of a resumption of violence this made no difference. The Viper had lost his gun. Whether or not his associate carried one was not known. Assuming he had one, so far, for reasons known only to himself, he had not produced it. He may have hesitated to take on four men who, for all he knew, might also carry guns. But this was surmise.

  Then, as they all stood there, from above came a sound that startled everyone into swift movement. It was the whirr of a car starter. Ignoring the Viper Biggles tore up the path with the others close behind. Ginger supposed the gangsters would follow them, but he did not look round to confirm it, one reason being that he had to watch his step on the steep rocky path, and another, he was in no position to prevent it, anyway. When he reached the road it was to find Biggles already in their own car, starting the engine. The blue Morris had gone.

  ‘Get in,’ said Biggles, curtly. ‘The Morris didn’t turn or we’d have heard it shunt. It must have gone this way. Let’s get after it.’

  ‘What about the Viper?’ asked Eddie, as they all scrambled into their seats.

  ‘He can do what he likes. We’ve no time to stand and argue.’

  ‘He’ll follow.’

  ‘Let him. The thing is for us to get to the boy first.’

  The doors were slammed and the Humber raced down the broad highway in the direction from which it had come.

  ‘That’s the second time we’ve missed ‘em by inches,’ muttered Eddie, savagely. ‘All because those two skunks had to follow us down the path and show themselves.’

  ‘Cornelli wasn’t long recognizing ‘em.’

  ‘You bet he wasn’t. He knew what that meant.’

  ‘He must have guessed we’d wait at the jetty, so he ran the boat ashore farther along at a place where he could get up the bank to the road. It seems that the boy is still content to remain with him.’

  ‘We don’t know what tale he’s told the bo
y.’

  ‘Meanwhile, we’re still going round in circles.’

  ‘You think Cornelli’s going back to Inverness?’

  ‘I’d say he’ll only do that if there’s no alternative.’

  There’s that turning at Invermoriston,’ reminded Ginger, referring again to the map in the A.A. book.

  ‘That’s where we shall have to start guessing again.’

  ‘If he takes that road he’ll have a long run in front of him to the Kyle of Lochalsh. The only road leading off it is at a place called Cluanie, about twenty miles on. It doubles back on itself and rejoins the main road a few miles from Fort Augustus.’

  ‘No doubt Cornelli will drive fast, but there’s a chance we may overtake him.’

  Bertie, after a glance through the rear window, chipped in: ‘That black saloon’s on our tail. The Viper is still with us.’

  ‘You can bet he’ll stay with us while he can,’ growled Eddie. ‘What beats me, Biggles, is why you don’t arrest him here and now.’

  ‘I’ve told you why. I’ve no warrant for his arrest, and until he commits a felony it’s unlikely that one would be issued.’

  ‘But the United States Embassy in London—’

  ‘Let’s get the boy. We can talk afterwards.’

  ‘Steady,’ warned Ginger. ‘Here’s the Glen Moriston road just in front, on the left.’

  At the junction they had a small slice of luck. Outside the hotel, the Glen Moriston Arms, a man was doing something to a car. Biggles pulled up level with him. ‘Have you noticed a light blue car come this way?’ he inquired.

  ‘A Morris?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  The man pointed up the glen road. ‘Yes. That’s the way it went.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Biggles drove on. ‘Here we go again,’ he sighed. ‘I didn’t think Cornelli would head straight back to Inverness.’

  ‘I wonder if he knows he’s heading for the West Coast?’ queried Ginger.

  ‘I don’t suppose he cares where he’s heading for as long as he can throw the Viper off his track,’ ventured Biggles, grimly. ‘If ever I saw a killer, that man’s one.’

  ‘They’re all killers, and that includes Cornelli,’ stated Eddie.

  ‘The black saloon’s still with us,’ Bertie informed them.

  Biggles’s foot went down on the accelerator. ‘Let’s see if we can lose it, but I have my doubts.’

  With Loch Ness now behind it, the Humber leapt forward on a good, heather-fringed, metal-surfaced road, that ran steadily uphill across open country. There was a clear view ahead for a considerable distance but no blue car — nor, for that matter, any other vehicle.

  ‘How far did you say it was before we come to a turning?’ Biggles asked Ginger.

  ‘As near as I can judge, from the map, about twenty miles.’

  ‘We ought to be able to overtake the Morris in that distance,’ said Eddie, confidently.

  ‘It had at least five minutes start, and in that time a car can cover a lot of ground,’ answered Biggles, dubiously.

  The Humber sped on, always climbing up a long hill, across a landscape now turning softly pink and gold in the misty light of the westering sun.

  CHAPTER 8

  THE HIGH ROAD AND THE LOW

  THEY saw the Morris before they came to the fork. Ginger spotted it more or less by accident. At least, he was not looking for it when he saw it; nor could he have imagined it being where he did see it. Happening to glance out of the side window on his left to where, at some distance, a towering heather-covered hillside rose up to cut a curve against the sky, he saw, to his amazement, a blue car streaking diagonally across it, travelling in almost the opposite direction to themselves. He couldn’t see a road, but realized there must be one.

  There they are!’ he cried.

  ‘That’s swell!’ exclaimed Eddie. ‘We’ll catch ‘em.’

  His optimism was understandable, because at that moment the Morris was less than a quarter of a mile away. That is, in a straight line. But it was on the far side of a treeless glen, some two or three hundred feet above them, and between them yawned a deep if narrow valley with water at the bottom.

  It had yet to be learned that the distance between the two cars, by road, was more like three to four miles. The Humber, of course, could only follow the road, and this continued on for the best part of two miles before the dividing glen narrowed and a bridge enabled them to take the road the Morris was on. There a hairpin bend took the road back almost on itself, climbing steeply up the flank of the opposite hill. The road they were on carried straight on at the fork.

  As Biggles turned at full lock to take the hairpin bend he remarked: ‘At least we know which way they’ve gone. Where does this road lead?’

  Ginger studied the map. ‘To Glen Garry. It joins the main road again at Invergarry, about five or six miles from Fort Augustus.’

  ‘Which means we would then be back nearly to where we saw Cornelli in the boat.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So we’re still going round in circles,’ muttered Biggles. ‘I shall soon be round the bend myself if this goes on much longer. Are there any side turnings?’

  ‘Not until you come to Invergarry and the main road. You can then please yourself whether you turn left or right. Unless you can catch them before we get there we shan’t know which way they’ve gone.’

  ‘How far is Invergarry?’

  ‘For a rough guess about twenty miles.’

  ‘Then we might just do it. Good thing that garage man topped us up with petrol before we started.’

  ‘The black saloon is still behind us,’ said Bertie.

  ‘As we could see the Morris no doubt they saw it, too. If it comes to that, I imagine Cornelli also saw us. He must be wondering who we are, but having seen the Viper down there by the side of Loch Ness he’s not likely to stop to ask us. He’ll keep going till he thinks he’s reasonably safe.’

  The road they were now on was different from the one they had left. For a mountain road it had a fair surface, but it was very narrow. It was in fact a single-lane track, so narrow that passing or overtaking was impossible except where, at intervals of a few hundred yards, cuttings in the side had been made for that purpose. There were snow-posts, too, to mark the course of the road when the snow was down in winter. This was understandable, for the road, climbing steeply all the time, had reached an altitude from which a wild, majestic scene unfolded, particularly towards the west, where the peaks of the Five Sisters, still streaked with snow, were thrust high into the sky. However, they were some distance away. Between them and the road, that is, on the right-hand side of the car, for a mile or more the ground fell away into a tremendous hollow with a loch at the bottom. A herd of deer could be seen standing knee deep in the water.

  On the opposite side of the road the view was nearly as impressive, with heather-covered slopes falling into Glen Moriston, through which ran the road from Loch Ness — the road they had originally been on. The Humber was, in fact, racing across the top of what is sometimes called a saddle.

  The highest point having been passed the ground began to drop away in a series of switchback descents with occasional level stretches; and it was on one of these that an incident occurred which annoyed Biggles very much. He blamed himself, but the others found excuses for him. What happened was this.

  Since leaving Loch Ness they had not seen a single other vehicle apart from those engaged in the chase. There now appeared in front another car — actually, it was a jeep — and as there was a pull-in just in front of him Biggles turned into it and stopped to allow the jeep to pass. The delay, if only for a few seconds, was irritating, but for Biggles there was no alternative. It was up to him, by the rule of such roads, to give way, and in so doing he did the correct thing. It did not occur to him to do otherwise. The driver of the jeep, seeing him do this, came on, as was his right.

  The Viper may or may not have known this. Even if he did not know he
must have seen what was happening. It made no difference. He employed ‘rushing’ tactics, as some drivers always will. In a flash the black saloon had shot past the Humber standing in the siding. The thing was done before any steps could be taken to prevent it. The driver of the jeep, seeing this happen, had to stop to prevent a head-on collision. He had to do more than that. Seeing that the black car had no intention of giving way he had to back to the nearest pull-in behind him to allow it to pass, which, of course, it did. It then went straight on. Biggles, for his part, had to wait for the jeep to go by before he could proceed. The time lost was about two minutes. By then the Viper’s car had disappeared over the brow of the next hill.

  ‘The swine,’ muttered Biggles furiously. ‘That’s how accidents happen. No wonder the local people get browned off with tourists who behave like that.’

  ‘You did the right thing, old boy,’ consoled Bertie.

  ‘Frankly, it never occurred to me that the Viper might pull a trick like that. I thought he was following us. He must have seen the Morris when we did, so that was no longer necessary.’

  It will be noticed that the effect of this slick manoeuvre on the part of the Viper was to reverse the position of the two cars, his own and Biggles’s. This, naturally, did not please Biggles, who up to this time had had the comfort of knowing that the Viper could not reach Cornelli before he did. Now he himself could not reach the blue Morris without first overtaking the black saloon, and this, on such a road, would only be possible if the Viper was prepared to permit it. That was so unlikely as not to be worth considering, since the Viper had deliberately taken a risk to obtain the position he now held.

  All Biggles could do was race on after the black saloon, now nearly half a mile in front of him and from time to time disappearing from sight over the brows of the several hills, mostly descending. Nor could anything be seen of the Morris, which Ginger reckoned was still at least two or three miles ahead of them. The road continued downhill with occasional short runs of level ground.