Part 1 (2/2)

'Yes.'

'He won't tel us anything.'

'Won't he, by thunder!' snorted Ginger. 'After al the sticky shows we've done for him, and the risks we've taken for his department, he can't treat us like this.'

'Are you going to tel him that?' asked Algy sarcastical y.

'I certainly am.'

'But it's against orders to go direct to the Air Ministry-you know that.'

'Orders or no orders, I'm going to the Air House,'

declared Ginger. 'They're glad enough to see us when they're stuck with something they can't untangle; they can't shut the door when they don't want to see us. Oh, no, they can't get away with that.

I'm going to see the Air Commodore if I have to tear the place down brick by brick until I get to him. Is he a man or is he a skunk? I say, if he's a man he'l see us, and come clean.'

'You go on like this and we shal al finish under close arrest.'

'Who cares?' flaunted Ginger. 'I want to know the truth. If Biggles has been kil ed-wel , that's that.

What I can't stand is this uncertainty, this knowing nothing. Dash it, it isn't fair on us.'

'I am inclined to agree with you,' said Algy grimly.

'Ours has been no ordinary combination, and Raymond knows that as wel as anybody. Let's go and tackle the Air Commodore. He can only throw us out.'

'Here, I say, what about me?' inquired Bertie plaintively. 'Don't I get a look in?'

'Come with us, and we'l make a deputation of it,'

decided Algy.

An hour later an Air Ministry messenger was showing them into an office through a door on which was painted in white letters the words, Air Air Commodore R. B. Raymond, D.S.O. Air Commodore R. B. Raymond, D.S.O. Air Intelligence. Intelligence. The Air Commodore, who knew Algy and Ginger wel , and had met Bertie, shook hands and invited them to be seated. The Air Commodore, who knew Algy and Ginger wel , and had met Bertie, shook hands and invited them to be seated.

'You know, of course, that you had no business to come here on a personal matter without an invitation?' he chided gently, raising his eyebrows.

'This is more than a personal matter, sir,'

answered Algy. 'It's a matter that concerns the morale of a squadron. You've probably guessed what it is?'

The Air Commodore nodded. 'I know. I was wondering how long you would be putting two and two together. Wel , I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but there is little I can tel you.'

'Do you mean you can't or you won't, sir?'

demanded Ginger bluntly.

'What exactly is it you want to know?'

Algy answered: 'Our question is, sir, where is Biggles?'

'I wish I knew,' returned the Air Commodore slowly, and with obvious sincerity.

'But you know where he went?'

'Yes.'

'Wil you tel us that?'

'What useful purpose would it serve?'

'We might be able to do something about it.'

'I'm afraid that's quite out of the question.'

'Do you mean-he's been kil ed?'

'Do you mean-he's been kil ed?'

'He may be. In fact, what evidence we have al points to that. But we have no official notification of it.'

There was a brief and rather embarra.s.sing silence. The Air Commodore gazed through the window at the blue sky, drumming on his desk with his fingers.

'Knowing what we have been to each other in the past, sir, don't you think we are ent.i.tled to some explanation?' pressed Algy.

'The matter is secret.'

'So were a good many other things you've told us about in the past, sir, when you needed Biggles to straighten them out.'

The Air Commodore appeared to reach a decision. He looked round. 'Very wel ,' said he. 'Your argument is reasonable, and I won't attempt to deny it. I'l tel you what I know-in the strictest confidence, of course.'

'We've never let you down yet, sir,' reminded Algy.

'Al right. Don't rub it in.' The Air Commodore smiled faintly, then became serious. 'Here are the facts. About ten days ago we received information that a very important person whom I need not name, but who I wil cal Princess X, had escaped from Italy.

This lady is an Italian, or, rather, a Sicilian, one of those who hate Mussolini*1 and al his works. Her father, wel known before the war for his anti-Fascist views, was kil ed in what was al eged to be an accident. Actual y he was murdered. Princess X knew that, and she plotted against the regime.

Mussolini's police found out, and when Italy entered the war she was arrested. Friends-members of a secret society-inside Italy helped her to escape.

She was to make for Ma.r.s.eil es, where we had made arrangements to pick her up. Unfortunately, she was pursued, and in the hope of eluding her pursuers she struck off at a tangent and eventual y reached the Princ.i.p.ality of Monaco, in the south-east corner of France, where she knew someone, a wealthy Italian business man, a banker, whom she had befriended in the past. She thought he would give her shelter. She reached his vil a safely, and got word through to us by one of our agents who was in touch with her, giving us the address, and imploring us to rescue her. By this time the hue and cry was up, and it would have been suicidal for her to attempt up, and it would have been suicidal for her to attempt to reach Ma.r.s.eil es, or a neutral country Spain, for instance alone. We were most anxious to have her here, and we realized that if anything was to be done there was no time to lose. We decided to attempt to rescue her by air. We sent for Bigglesworth, who has had a lot of experience at this sort of thing, and asked his opinion. He offered to do the job.'

'You mean, go to Monaco, pick up the princess and bring her here?'

'Yes. But the job was not as easy as it sounds- not that it sounds easy. The difficulty did not lie so much in getting Biggles there, because he could be dropped by parachute; but to pick him up was a different matter. That meant landing an aircraft.

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