Biggles and the Poor Rich Boy

by W E Johns

  Eddie drew a deep breath. ‘Where does all this get us?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s see what alternatives we have. Firstly, we can stay here, with Gaskin watching Cornelli to tip us off if he makes a move. Secondly, we can go back to Scotland and try to find the boy. He’ll be at a fishing hotel somewhere. The Viper may still be there or he may have come south. We don’t know and it might be either.’

  Ginger stepped in. ‘Tearing round the Highlands calling at every fishing pub would be a long job. You said yourself—’

  ‘I know. But I wasn’t thinking of tearing round. If we went back, with Inverness as a centre we could telephone every hotel within reasonable distance and ask if there was a boy named Cornelli staying there. That would still be a tiresome job, but it would be quicker than visiting the hotels.’

  ‘He might be using another name.’

  ‘That’s a risk we’d have to take. We could describe Carlo. Word of any boy of his age, fishing alone, would be worth investigating.’

  ‘You feel like trying that?’ questioned Eddie.

  ‘Well, we shan’t find the boy sitting here. We might as well try something, whatever the odds may be against us finding him. I think perhaps the best plan would be for us to split up and so work from both ends. Eddie and I could fly back to Inverness and see what we can make of it there. You, Bertie, and Ginger, can stay here, keeping in close touch with Gaskin. Should anything happen, ring us at the Station Hotel. We would at least be on the spot should anything arise at that end.’

  Eddie nodded. ‘I think you’ve got it. I can’t think of anything better. This is the queerest sort of kidnapping case I’ve ever run into — looking for a boy who doesn’t even know he’s been kidnapped.’

  Biggles glanced at the clock. ‘It’s too late to do anything today. We’ll get cracking first thing tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Mind if I ring up my chief in New York to tell him what’s going on?’ asked Eddie. ‘He may think I’m taking a holiday.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  Having got through Eddie had a fairly long conversation, at the end of which he uttered an exclamation of surprise, which naturally aroused the curiosity of those who were in the room.

  ‘Well, what’s the news?’ asked Biggles, as Eddie hung up.

  ‘It looks as if you were right on the beam in your reckoning as to why Cornelli had come to London. Guess what!’

  ‘Don’t waste time.’

  ‘Rosario Salvatore, Carlo’s father, is leaving for London by air. As far as I know he’s never been to England in his life. Why should he suddenly make up his mind to come now? I figure only one thing would cause him to leave the States at a time like this.’

  ‘News of his son.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Has he said that?’

  ‘Not likely. He doesn’t want to get the kid bumped off, which is the habit of kidnappers if the victim squeals to the police. No. The reason he’s given for coming over here is urgent business. That needn’t deceive us. He had to give a reason and I suppose the one he’s given is as good as any.’

  ‘If he’s coming over to see Cornelli, and that’s what it looks like, he must know where he is, or have some prearranged way of making contact with him. We know Cornelli, without the boy, is at the Grosvenor, so I don’t see how this development is going to help us. On the contrary, it may complicate matters. I shall have to let Gaskin know about this.’

  ‘You mean, you’ll go on with our plan?’

  ‘I see no reason to change it. If we can find the boy before the old man parts with the ransom money, and that’s what he intends to do, we may save him a million dollars. The question is, will Cornelli hand over the boy if the old man pays up? I wouldn’t care to bet on it. Cornelli must be as crooked as they come, so this may be another trick. The whole thing has a fishy smell. I’d say Cornelli’s idea is to get the cash and still keep the boy. Why not, since that would be another slap in the old man’s face. Incidentally, Salvatore can know nothing of the Viper taking a hand in the game; and we’d do no good by meeting him and telling him. That would only be likely to upset him more. So we might as well carry on. As I see it now, the important thing is to know if Cornelli leaves London — or the old man, after he gets here.’

  Eddie nodded. ‘I wouldn’t put it past Cornelli to have some scheme for torturing the boy’s father, somehow or other, if he can get hold of him.’

  Biggles agreed. ‘Okay, let’s quit guessing and get to work,’ he concluded.

  CHAPTER 11

  COMPLICATIONS

  THE following morning, having flown to Dalcross in the Proctor, Biggles and Eddie were at the Station Hotel, Inverness, before eleven, and with their reference books handy prepared to set about their tedious task of ringing up all the fishing hotels in the area, starting with Inverness as a centre and working outwards. It was, they quickly discovered, an even more formidable undertaking than they had thought, the country being interlaced with small rivers and lochs of which they had never heard and most of them having hotels or inns on or near their banks. Still, as Biggles argued, and Eddie agreed, to visit them all within a period of weeks, if not months, would have been impossible. The telephone was the only way.

  By tea time they had had no success, and, leaving Eddie to carry on, Biggles made a break by walking to the garage on the off-chance that the man there had seen the boy. He had not, so all Biggles could do was ask him, should he see Mr Cornelli or the boy, to ring him at his hotel. The one item of news that did emerge was disconcerting. The man mentioned casually that the Cornellis seemed to be in great demand, for two other men, Americans he thought from the way they spoke, had been to the garage asking questions about them and the blue Morris.

  Biggles returned to Eddie, and the monotonous telephoning, always with ‘no’ for the answer, proceeded. Later in the evening Biggles himself had a call, from Ginger. He had nothing to report.

  The next day it was the same. The list of hotels had been reduced, but there were still many more to be questioned. Again in the late evening Ginger came through on the phone. This time he had an item of news although it did not help them in their quest. Carlo’s father, Rosario Salvatore, had arrived at London airport from America. He had engaged a private car which had taken him direct to the Barchester Hotel. He had not been out since. Ginger suggested he might call on him, but Biggles said no; it was too dangerous. One ill-advised move at that juncture might prove fatal for the boy. In any case, the only information Mr Salvatore might have was the name of the hotel where the kidnapper was staying, and where in all probability they were to meet; but as this was already known nothing was to be gained, even if Mr Salvatore was prepared to divulge the name of the hotel.

  The third day started as before, and Biggles and Eddie had just resumed their weary task of telephoning when Biggles himself was called to the telephone by a page.

  It was the garage man, and Biggles took a fresh interest in what was fast becoming a dull affair when the man told him he had rung to say he thought he had seen the boy Cornelli. Biggles simply said, ‘Thank you. I’ll come straight round.’ He hurried back to Eddie, told him the news, and together they walked briskly to the garage.

  ‘This is better,’ said Eddie, new hope in his voice. ‘This might get us some place.’ ‘Let’s hope so,’ answered Biggles. ‘This telephoning is sending me round the bend. The regular police are doing it all the time, of course, but it isn’t my line of country.’

  They found the garage man waiting and he told them what had happened.

  ‘It was like this,’ he began. ‘I was giving the Morris a wash down when a car pulled up at the pumps for petrol. There was a gentleman in it, driving, with a boy beside him. The gentleman got out. The boy sat still. I’m almost certain it was the boy I’d seen with Mr Cornelli.’

  ‘Was this car known to you?’ asked Biggles.

  ‘No. I’d never seen it before.’

  ‘What make was it?’

  ‘
A Rolls.’

  ‘A Rolls! You didn’t know the man?’

  ‘No. He was very well dressed in tweeds and spoke like an Englishman. He was here for the fishing.’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘He had flies in his hat, both salmon and trout flies. Besides, when we were talking he mentioned he’d come into the town to buy some tackle.’

  ‘He didn’t happen to mention where he was going for the tackle?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where would be the most likely shop?’

  ‘In Inglis Street. There are two shops there. One is the biggest in the north. It has everything for the sports.’

  ‘Can you give me a rough description of this gentleman?’

  ‘Surely. He was about fifty, I’d say, tall, and a bit on the thin side. He had a small fair moustache turned up at the ends. He wore a lovat green jacket and grey trousers.’

  ‘Did you take the number of the car?’

  ‘No. I didn’t notice it. Had no reason to.’

  ‘Of course not. Thanks very much. We’ll try the tackle shops. One of them may know him. Sorry to give you so much trouble.’

  ‘It’s nae bother.’

  Biggles and Eddie walked away.

  ‘What do you make of this?’ questioned Eddie. ‘Who’s this new guy taking a hand? With a Rolls Royce, at that. Must have plenty of dough.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s taking a hand in anything. I’d say he’s somebody Carlo has got to know since he was left here on his own. Probably another keen fisher staying at the same hotel. Brought Carlo in for a run, or maybe, like himself, to get some new tackle. Carlo, at his age, couldn’t have a car of his own.’

  They had no difficulty in finding Inglis Street, where they went first to the big sporting stores of which the garage man had spoken.

  Biggles did not have to go into any great detail in his description of the man in whom he was now interested.

  ‘You must mean Major Grey,’ he was told, frankly. ‘Yes, we know him well. He’s an old customer of ours. Comes up every year for the fishing and the grouse shooting. He looked in this morning for some fine gut casts for sea-trout.’

  ‘He had a boy with him I believe?’

  ‘Yes. The boy bought some casts, too, and one or two flies.’

  ‘Do you know where Major Grey is staying?’

  ‘No, he didn’t say.’

  ‘Do you happen to know which river he’s fishing?’

  ‘I can’t remember him actually saying so, but I believe it’s the Spey.’

  ‘You’ve no idea which part of the Spey?’

  ‘None at all. I know he likes the Spey, but now so few beats are available he has to take a fishing where he can get it. Last season I remember he was on the Findhorn, which isn’t far from here, and didn’t have much luck, so he told me.’

  ‘When you speak of taking a fishing you mean he takes some private water, as opposed to hotel or free water?’

  ‘Yes. I know he’s always had his own beat. I imagine he has done that this season, but he didn’t mention where he was.’

  ‘In any case he’d stay at a hotel.’

  ‘Probably, but not necessarily. He may be staying at a private house. Many people who live in big houses now take paying guests for the fishing.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m much obliged to you.’

  Biggles and Eddie went on their way, heading back towards the hotel.

  ‘Well, we’ve learned a little, but I don’t see that it helps us much,’ said Biggles. ‘Wherever this Major chap is staying Carlo is in the same place — or at least fishing the same water. He gave the boy a lift in this morning and by now is probably on his way home. That’s all there was to it. Our only clue, and it’s a slender one, is the River Spey. We’d better concentrate on it.’

  ‘If he’s staying at a private house we haven’t a hope of finding him,’ returned Eddie, dejectedly.

  He thought still less of their chance when, back at the hotel, they learned from their map that the Spey, from its source near Loch Spey, wanders for a hundred miles before emptying itself into the North Sea; and that at intervals for its entire length there were towns, villages and hotels.

  ‘Well, let’s get down to it,’ said Biggles, doggedly. ‘At which end do we start, the source or the estuary?’

  ‘Does it make any difference?’

  ‘None that I can see.’

  ‘Okay. Then let’s start at the big end and work back up the river.’

  They went to work, starting at the Spey Bay Hotel at the mouth of the river, using the telephone in Biggles’s bedroom.

  They had been at it for some time, to no purpose, when, following a knock on the door, it was opened by one of the staff and in walked Ginger and Bertie.

  In his astonishment Biggles nearly went over backwards in his chair. ‘What the deuce are you doing here?’ he cried, as he recovered.

  ‘Things have been happening. We’ve news—’

  ‘Why not phone?’

  ‘We tried that and found we were wasting our time. Either you were out, or when you were in your number was engaged.’

  ‘That’s right. We’ve been out.’

  ‘The news is so urgent and complicated that I decided it would be better to run up. We left Algy still trying to get you.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have a hope. Since we came in we’ve never been off the phone. How did you get here?’

  ‘We flew up in the Auster. Left it at Dalcross. I’d have called you from the aerodrome, but there was a taxi there just going back to Inverness so we grabbed it to save time waiting for another.’

  ‘I see. Well, what’s this big news? Let’s have it.’

  ‘Fasten your safety belt, you’re in for some bumps,’ advised Ginger, grimly. ‘We’ve lost Cornelli.’

  Biggles groaned softly.

  ‘And that isn’t all,’ went on Ginger. ‘There’s worse to come. The Viper and his pal were responsible. I’ll tell you exactly what happened as far as we — that is, Gaskin and ourselves — have been able to work it out. What sent the balloon up was the Viper going to Mr Salvatore’s hotel and gate-crashing in on him in his room.’

  Biggles stared, frowning. ‘But how could the Viper have known the old man was at the Barchester?’ he cried, his voice rising in his astonishment.

  ‘That’s something we don’t know for certain. Gaskin thinks someone in the States may have phoned or cabled the Viper and tipped him off that Salvatore was on his way over. There’s also a chance the Viper may have read about it in a newspaper.’

  ‘Newspaper! What newspaper?’

  ‘The New York Times. There’s a paragraph in it although I haven’t seen it myself. The paper can be bought over here.’

  Biggles looked at Eddie in horror. ‘Would anyone be such an imbecile as to publish Salvatore’s movements in a newspaper?’

  ‘Certainly — if a reporter got hold of it, and they manage to get hold of most things. After all, this kidnapping case is hot news in America and any scrap of information would be on the front page.’

  Biggles shook his head sadly.

  Ginger continued: ‘Never mind how the Viper found out that Salvatore was on his way here; we know for a fact he must have done, and he did what you’d expect him to do. He must have met the New York plane in and shadowed the old man to his hotel. I’ve seen Mr Salvatore myself, and as he didn’t tell anyone where he was going to stay there’s no other explanation.’

  ‘Go on. So the Viper went to the hotel. What did he want with the old man?’

  ‘He said he thought he could get his son back for him, but the old man didn’t fall for that. He said he could get the boy back without any help. Naturally, the Viper took that to mean the old man was in touch with Cornelli and asked him where Cornelli was staying.’

  ‘The old man wouldn’t tell him, of course.’

  ‘He had to. At first he refused, but the Viper pulled a gun and swore he’d shoot if he didn’t open up. Mr Salvatore told me thi
s himself. The poor old man’s all to pieces with shock.’

  ‘So he told the Viper what he wanted to know.’

  ‘He had to.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘He said he had an appointment that evening with Cornelli at the Grosvenor. That explains how the Viper knew Cornelli was at the Grosvenor. Apparently he’d guessed, as you did, why Salvatore had come over.’

  ‘Go on. What happened next?’

  ‘The Viper and his pal went straight to the Grosvenor, and as Bertie and I have been there we know exactly what happened. They went to the inquiry bureau where the keys of the rooms are kept and asked the man in charge for the number of Cornelli’s room. The man said it was against the rules to do that, but he offered to send a message. He knew Cornelli was in because his key wasn’t on the rack. Cornelli always left it there when he went out.’

  ‘Yes, I understand that. Carry on.’

  ‘Now to make this clear, in case you don’t know, you must realize that the key racks are right beside the lift, with the main staircase just on the other side. This means that the man at the desk can see both the lift and the staircase. Cornelli’s room was on the third floor. Invariably he used the lift. The man at the desk wouldn’t allow the Viper to go up alone because he wasn’t resident in the hotel.’

  ‘Quite right. That’s usual.’

  ‘Well, as I say, he knew Cornelli was in, so after some argument he called for a page and told him to take the two gentlemen up to Cornelli’s room. But he didn’t let it go at that. As soon as the page was in the lift with the two men he rang Cornelli and told him that two friends of his were on their way up to see him. They hadn’t given their names.’

  ‘This conversation between the desk and Cornelli took place while the Viper was on his way up?’