Part 2 (1/2)

'But I'm not a professional spy,' protested Biggles vigorously.

'My dear Bigglesworth, you yourself have seen what Germany is doing in Norway.

There's black treachery for you, if you like. We've got to fight the enemy with his own weapons, if only for the sake of the Norwegians.'

Thus spoke the Colonel. It was a subtle argument that he put forward, put in such a way that Biggles could hardly refuse.

All right,' he said at last, wearily. 'How am I going to get into touch with you when I have something to report?'

'Leave that to me,' said the Colonel quickly. 'I can't tell you now. Arrangements will have to be made, but you'll get further instructions in due course. Get back to the aerodrome and learn all you can about the enemy's movements.'

'Just one request,' put in Biggles. 'I feel very much on my own up here; if you could get Lacey and Hebblethwaite somewhere handy, somewhere where I could reach them in emergency, I'd be grateful. As you know, we always work as a team, and I need a little moral support, anyway. If they hear nothing they'll be worried to death about me.'

I'll get them within striking distance of you at once,' promised the Colonel without hesitation. 'As a matter of fact, knowing things were warming up, I brought them home from France yesterday, since when they've been waiting on the East Coast ready to slip across in case you needed help. They can be over in a couple of hours.'

'But how can I make contact with them?'

I shall have to think about that, but I'll arrange something immediately, don't worry.

Good luck. I mustn't hold the line any longer.' The Colonel rang off.

The Vice-Consul heard Biggles' end of the conversation, of course. He shrugged his shoulders sympathetically.

'Bad luck, old man,' he said quietly. 'But you must admit that Colonel Raymond is right.

It is on such chances as this that wars are sometimes won or lost. How do you propose getting back into Norway?'

I think the easiest way would be for you to refuse to accept responsibility for me,'

suggested Biggles readily. 'In that case the Swedes will soon have me back across the frontier.'

The Vice-Consul nodded and pressed the bell. The two policemen came back into the room.

I have had a conversation with this-er-applicant,' said the Vice-Consul coolly. 'He may be telling the truth, but he has no means of proving it, so in your interests as well as mine I'd rather not accept responsibility.'

'You'll leave him with us to deal with then?' said the senior of the two police.

'Yes, I'm afraid no other course is open to me.' The officer tapped Biggles on the arm. '

Come,' he said.

Obediently, Biggles followed.

Half an hour later he was gently but firmly shown across the frontier back into Norway.

He made no demur. It would have been a waste of time even if he had wanted to stay in Sweden. For a while he walked slowly down the road, but as soon as he was out of sight of the frontier post he quickened his steps and made his way to where he had left the motor-cycle. It was still there, so he dragged it out and recovered his swastika armlet from under the saddle. Deep in thought, he started the engine. Reaching the main road, he turned away from the frontier and headed back towards Boda, back towards the enemy.

He had no difficulty in getting back-his swastika flags saw to that. As he dismounted near the clubhouse Kristen hurried towards him.

'h.e.l.lo,' he said curiously. 'Where have you been?' Only for a ride,' answered Biggles casually. 'Why?' 'Baron von Leffers has been asking for you.'

Biggles nodded. 'I'll report to him at once,' he said quietly.

Chapter 4.

Cross-Examined Biggles found von Leffers in his office. He was not alone. Two other men were there.

One was the man whose motor-cycle he had got; the other was an elderly, hard-faced civilian whose pugnacious jaw, gimlet eyes, and arrogant bearing bespoke an official of importance. His grey hair had been cropped so short that he appeared to be completely bald. Biggles guessed to what department he belonged before he was introduced.

Baron von Leffers stared at Biggles stonily. 'Leutnant Hendrik, this is Oberleutnant Ernst von Hymann,' he said curtly, waving a hand towards the stranger. 'He is a senior officer of the Gestapo. He wishes to speak to you. You have kept him waiting.'

I'm very sorry, sir, but I didn't know he was here,' returned Biggles contritely.

To his infinite relief the Commandant did not ask where he had been. He left it to the Gestapo officer to continue the conversation.

Von Hymann invited Biggles to be seated, and then stood up, legs apart, to face him squarely. In some strange way he reminded Biggles of a mangy bulldog. When he spoke his voice was brittle.

'Leutnant Hendrik,' he began, 'earlier to-day when you were interviewed by the Commandant of this aerodrome you gave him certain particulars of your flying career. Among other things you said that you had been a pilot in America, and more lately in Canada. Is that correct?'

'Quite correct, sir.'

As you may have heard,' continued von Hymann, 'we make a point of checking up on every statement made by aliens. You, as a Norwegian, come into that category.'

'But -'

'We shall get on faster if you leave me' to ask the questions.'

Biggles bowed.

'You further stated that when you were in Canada you were employed as an air pilot.'

'Correct.'

And you were once employed by a firm called Arctic Airways located at Fort Beaver?'

'Quite right.'

Von Hymann crouched like a wild beast about to spring.

'We have been unable to confirm that you ever had any connexion with Arctic Airways.'

Biggles remained calm. 'To whom did you go for your information?'

Our agents in Canada have been through the official records. We also have newspaper reports of the scandal in which the company was involved.'

'You mean the stealing of the Moose Creek gold?' Von Hymann relaxed slightly. 'Well, you do at least know something about it,' he conceded. 'Yes, that was what I meant.'