Part 18 (2/2)

The princess smiled. 'But this is most romantic.

My ancestors would be chuckling in their graves if they knew. Until recent times, for hundreds of years this sort of thing went on up and down the coast, fighting, rescues, princes at war with each other, and the Saracens making raids everywhere.' The princess sighed. 'What days they were.'

'We're not doing so badly ourselves,' Ginger pointed out, glancing at Jeanette.

The princess intercepted the glance and smiled. 'I think you are doing very wel ,' she observed. 'When the war is over you must visit my home near Palermo -that is if Jeanette wil let you. The Sicilian girls are very good looking.'

Jeanette blushed. The princess laughed. Ginger grinned sheepishly. Bertie shook his head sadly.

Mario produced some food. n.o.body asked where he had got it from, but it was a welcome diversion.

After that they sat and discussed the plan in al its aspects while the sun went down in a blaze of gold and crimson behind the long arm of Cap d'Antibes, far to the west. Princess Marietta went back to the cel ar and returned to say that Henri seemed slightly better. His mother was stil with him.

'Which reminds me,' said Algy, addressing Biggles. 'Do you real y feel up to this show to-night?

You haven't been on your feet very long.'

'I couldn't do it if there was likely to be much violent exercise,' admitted Biggles. 'But as far as one can foresee, that isn't likely to arise. Bar accidents, I should be okay.'

Algy did not pursue the subject, and after that there was little to do except wait for the time to pa.s.s until zero hour.

Just before midnight, after a handshake al round, Biggles, Ginger and Mario, in accordance with the arrangement, went to the ambulance which, not without difficulty, was coaxed back to the road. At Biggles' suggestion they al sat on the front seat, where their uniforms would be seen if they were stopped, and so made their way, slowly, for the night was dark, to Mentone. Turning right, Mario went on to the outskirts of Monte Carlo, the ambulance taking its place in a considerable convoy going in the same direction. At a convenient spot it stopped. Biggles and Ginger got out. Mario turned the car and disappeared up the road on the return journey.

Biggles and Ginger walked on towards the harbour.

There were a number of Italian military cars, guns and tanks, parked beside the road, and a fair number of soldiers were moving about, but none had anything to say to the two officers who walked along as though they were out for a strol before turning in.

Without once being accosted they reached the harbour, where a few soldiers, presumably late arrivals, were having a midnight bathe. In a few arrivals, were having a midnight bathe. In a few minutes they were outside Francois' little house, knocking on the door.

It was opened after a short delay by the old boatman in his nights.h.i.+rt. He looked startled when he saw his uniformed visitors, but Biggles soon put him at ease by explaining who they were. 'May we come in?' he concluded.

' Oui, oui, messieurs Oui, oui, messieurs, enter,' invited Francois cordial y.

They went in and closed the door.

In the tiny parlour Biggles explained why they had come to see him. 'I know that you wil be wil ing to help us, because by helping us you wil be helping France,' he went on. As he spoke Biggles took from his pocket his rol of French notes, and in spite of Francois' protests he pressed it into his hand. 'I can't take the money with me,' he pointed out. 'I shal have no means of carrying it in the water; if I tried it would only get wet, and spoiled.'

Francois demurred, but in the end accepted the money-a big sum for a man in his position.

Biggles then went on to describe just what he wanted him to do, that under the pretence of looking at his lobster pots he should sail along to Cap Martin, pick up the refugees, and take them to the rendezvous. Without hesitation Francois expressed his wil ingness to do this. He went quietly upstairs and returned ful y dressed.

'I wil go now,' he said.

'Yes, you had better start right away to be on the safe side,' agreed Biggles. 'Whatever happens, you must be at Cap Martin by half-past two.' He looked at his watch. 'You should manage it; there isn't much breeze, but you've got nearly two hours.'

'If the wind goes I use my oars,' said Francois.

'What about your wife? Is she awake? Does she know about this? I ask because we shal have to stay here for a while.'

'No, she sleeps,' answered Francois. 'It is better not to tel her. And so you wil remain here?'

'Yes, if you don't mind,' replied Biggles. 'We had to come early in order to explain everything and give you a chance to get Cap Martin. We wil just sit here quietly.'

' C'est bon. Au revoir, messieurs C'est bon. Au revoir, messieurs .' Francois departed. .' Francois departed.

'Now we've got to kil time,' Biggles told Ginger, standing where, through the open window, he could watch the harbour. It was too dark to see very much, but splas.h.i.+ng indicated that some of the troops were stil bathing. 'I hope they'l stay there,' went on Biggles, referring to the bathers. 'It wil be supposed that we are in the party when we take to the water if we are seen. By the way, I propose to take the C.O.'s machine-it wil probably be the best of the bunch. It means a swim of about a hundred yards.

We'l land on the buoy, and pul the machine up to it.'

'What about these uniforms?'

'I was thinking about that. It's an awkward business swimming in clothes. I shan't need mine after I leave here because Algy is bringing my own uniform along. I can put it on later in the machine.

What about you? If you leave your Italian outfit here, where are you going to wear later on?' Biggles smiled. 'You'l find it a bit parky, flying in your birthday suit!'

'You don't suppose I'm going to join the party looking like Adam, do you?' answered Ginger coldly.

'There are ladies, don't forget. I'l dump my tunic, but stick to the slacks, also my s.h.i.+rt. We shal have to abandon our shoes.'

Nothing more was said for a little while. Then Biggles remarked, 'This waiting is a tedious business, but it couldn't be avoided. Mario had to get back and we had to give Francois time to do his stuff.'

Not until twenty to three did Biggles move. Then he stripped off his uniform, retaining only his vest, pants and belt. Through the belt he pushed his automatic, and a sheathed stiletto which he took from his pocket.

'Where on earth did you get that knife?' asked Ginger.

'Borrowed it from Mario.'

'What's the idea? Are you going to start stabbing people?'

'Not yet. It's to cut the mooring rope. We can't waste time untying wet knots. Got your gun?'

'It's in my trousers pocket. My torch is in the other if you need it.' As he spoke Ginger discarded his tunic and shoes.

'Al right. Let's get along,' proposed Biggles.

'We'd better take these uniforms with us and dump them in the drink; it won't do to leave them here in case there's a row, and a search, in which case case there's a row, and a search, in which case Francois would get it in the neck.'

Picking up the now unwanted clothes, they went out and closed the door softly behind them. One or two swimmers stil lingered on the quay, otherwise the harbour was quiet. The water lay placid under the stars. Some distance out the silhouettes of the aircraft could just be seen, looking like prehistoric monsters tethered to rocks. Faintly across the water strains of music came from the customs house, where a radio was playing a waltz. Vague shadows could be seen moving against the light of a half-open door.

Biggles lowered himself gently into the water and jettisoned his uniform. Ginger did the same. Ripples spread from the spot, reflecting the cool light of the stars.

Without a word, using a steady breast stroke, they began swimming towards their objective.

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