Part 16 (1/2)

You've probably sunk us all.'

'I've sunk the rat who killed my buddy, and that's all I care,' answered Clutson, speaking carelessly, like a man who is content and has no regrets. He lit a cigarette.

In a way, Ginger could sympathise with him; but he was aghast at the price everyone was likely to pay for his revenge.

'Get the key of the hut, Bertie,' ordered Biggles. 'According to Wung it hangs in the cubicle. Tell me when you've got it.'

Bertie darted in. 'Okay!' he called.

Biggles switched off the light, in the hope, presumably of delaying the inevitable investigation. The report must have been heard all over the camp, but that did not necessarily mean that it would be traced to the compound immediately. If the light was on, however, it would speak as plainly as words a” certainly to the keen-witted von Stalhein.

'Outside, everybody,' ordered Biggles. 'Come on, Ross. Any others who want to come will have to finish dressing on the way. This will be a hot spot inside five minutes. Give me the key, Bertie. Thanks. Now get these fellows through the wire and along to the hut. Ginger, you can go with them and take care of Ross if there's trouble.'

'What about you?'

'I shall try to cause a diversion. With everyone on the move, Gimlet is liable to be cut off'

Bertie mustered his flock. 'This way, chaps,' he ordered. 'No more talking.' He set off at the double, followed by a crocodile of men hugging various garments and other possessions.

Biggles watched them out of sight and then, turning his attention to the camp, saw that the shot had done what he feared. The place was astir.

Lights sprang up in several places and hurrying figures could be seen against them. Very soon three of these stood out clearly as they ran towards the compound. One of them, he saw without surprise, was von Stalhein.

Still holding his gun, Biggles took a pace round the corner and, pressing his body against the woodwork, stood still. He could no longer see the figures, but he could hear them coming. They ran up, panting, and, as he was sure they would, went straight into the hut.

The light clicked on. For a moment all was quiet as the men took in the scene. Then the p.r.o.ne figure of the sergeant must have been noticed, for the footsteps hurried on to the far end. The next move, Biggles knew, would be a general alarm.

He walked round to the door and looked in. He saw what he expected to see. The three men were staring down at the prostrate sergeant, while the two prisoners who had stayed behind were telling them, incoherently, what had happened.

Biggles reached out to close the door and lock it, intending to depart then without revealing himself; but the movement must have caught von Stalhein's eye, for he looked round sharply and, of course, saw who was at the door. Biggles finished what he was doing, and hearing swift footsteps within, and guessing what they portended, stepped aside smartly as soon as the door was locked.

'Bigglesworth!' came von Stalhein's voice.

'Good morning to you,' answered Biggles.

A heavy revolver crashed, and splinters of wood flew from the door in line with where von Stalhein must have supposed Biggles to be standing.

'Naughty!' chided Biggles.

'I'll remember this,' promised von Stalhein, an edge on his voice.

'If your boss tries to give you a black, tell him it was his own fault for putting the camp in charge of a drunk,' said Biggles. 'I'll confirm it. You know my address? You'll find a souvenir on the door.'

He took off the spotted tie he was still wearing, hung it over the door handle, and walked away in the direction of the gap in the wire.

By the time he had reached it von Stalhein and his companions must have discovered that they were locked in, for there was a good deal of banging on the door. There was also some shouting, This was followed by several revolver shots, as someone, Biggles thought, tried to shoot the lock out of the door. He walked on. That the shots in the hut had been heard was soon apparent from the way more figures began to converge on it.

He paid little attention to them, and went on to the hovel without meeting anyone. Bertie and his party were there, a huddled, silent group; but Gimlet had not yet arrived.

Biggles waited, staring in the direction from which they should come.

Wung, alone, was the first to arrive. He reported that the others were on their way. There had been some delay, he explained, because so many people were now moving about.

'Good enough,' acknowledged Biggles, 'As you know the way you can start off and get this gang to the coast. Bertie and Ginger will wait here with me in case Gimlet runs into trouble and needs help.'

Telling the men to follow him Wung set off across the marsh.

A few minutes later Gimlet and his two a.s.sistants arrived. 'Everything all right?' asked Biggles.

'Yes,' answered Gimlet. 'I was afraid at one time we might have to cut the programme short, but we managed to complete it. Did you get your man?'

'He's on his way to the boat, with some others.'

'What was the shooting about? That sort of started things.' 'Couldn't help it. A crazy prisoner shot the sergeant. Said he had b.u.mped off his pal, or something.'

'Fool thing to do.'

'People do fool things when they lose their heads.'

'Shan't keep you a minute,' said Gimlet, and turned to watch critically while Copper and Trapper, with the aid of a small, s.h.i.+elded torch, made the connections to their batteries.

Bertie spoke. 'By the way, Gimlet old boy, I've been meaning to ask you for some time, have you still got that flea-bitten old grey mare you called Seagull?'

'Of course I've got her.'

'She could jump like a cat, that mare.'

'She still can.'

'Want to sell her?'

'Not likely. I'm hoping to win next year's Grand National with her.'

'Riding her yourself?'