Part 7 (1/2)

'Thanks for picking up my ' he began, but he got no farther. Instead he stared in amazement at what he now beheld. The members of the drifter's crew were still smiling, but from all sides [image]

he was covered by a whole range of weapons, from automatic pistols to a machine-gun.

Biggles knew that he had made a mistake, but he still did not understand entirely what had happened. His eyes went again to the flag still fluttering at the stern, thinking that he must have been in error in supposing it was that of a neutral country; but what he saw only confirmed his first impression, for the flag was that of a Scandinavian country, although he couldn't remember which. Further, the crew wore no uniforms except the blue jerseys commonly used by merchant sailors.

'What 's all this about ? ' he inquired curtly, slowly looking round the circle of menacing weapons.

'You come this way,' ordered one of the men, who, in peaked cap and double-breasted reefer jacket, appeared to be one of the s.h.i.+p's officers. He beckoned towards the companion-way.

Unquestioningly Biggles followed. Indeed, he was in no case to argue. Further, he was anxious to get to the bottom of the apparent mystery as soon as possible.

Escorted by two men armed with rifles, he followed the officer down the steps and along a short corridor to a cabin, where he was disarmed and then searched, the contents of his pockets being taken away. There was a brief delay; then the officer returned and ordered Biggles to follow him.

They went on a little way down the corridor and halted before a door that stood ajar.

'Come in, Major Bigglesworth,' said a suave voice, which Biggles recognized instantly.

A ghost of a smile flitted over his face as he pushed the door open, walked slowly across the threshold, and turned to face the man who was seated behind a small s.h.i.+p's desk. It was, as he already knew, his old enemy, Erich von Stalhein of the German Secret Service.

A curious expression, half cynical and half triumphant, was on the German's austere face ; but his blue eyes were frosty.

Biggles considered him dispa.s.sionately. 'Congratulations,' he said.

On what ?'

'On changing your nationality. I can't recognize your new flag so I don't know what you'

ve changed to, but since it couldn't be worse than it was when I last saw you, it must, perforce, be better. In the circ.u.mstances I can only congratulate you.'

A flush swept across von Stalhein's prominent cheek-bones. 'Still as insolent as ever,' he said harshly.

Biggles helped himself to a cigarette from a box that stood on the desk and tapped it on the back of his hand. 'What have you done with my man-I mean, the fellow who was in the motor-boat ?'

Ali} So there was only one.'

'You ought to know.'

On the contrary, since the boat was empty when we found it we had no clue to the occupants or the number of them. We found the boat adrift-but we recognized its nationality, of course.'

Biggles looked into the German's eyes and thought he was speaking the truth-as indeed he was. 'The poor old fellow must have fallen overboard,' he said sadly.

'What was he doing in the boat ?'

'Between ourselves, von Stalhein, he was looking for me. I was delayed on a flight yesterday and he came to the not unnatural conclusion that I had been forced down.

When he, in turn, failed to return, I could hardly do other than look for him, could I?'

'Failed to return ? Return where ?'

'To the place where I expected to find him, of course.'

Von Stalhein leaned forward in his chair. 'Major Bigglesworth,' he said distinctly, 'I would advise you to be frank with me. We know you are operating somewhere near our coast. Where is your base ?'

'How do you know I'm operating near your coast ?'

I will ask the questions if you don't mind. repeat, where is your base ?'

'Well, I suppose there's no harm in your asking,' murmured Biggles indifferently, 'but I have a higher regard for your intelligence than to suppose you expect a correct answer.'

Von Stalhein's thin lips parted for a moment in a frigid smile. 'From where did you take off this morning ?'

Biggles made a deprecatory gesture. 'Oh, stop wasting time, von Stalhein. What is more to the point, I'm here, which should afford you considerable satisfaction. What are you going to do about it ?'

'What do you expect me to do ?'

'Hurry back home and tell the world how clever you are. Don't forget to mention that you borrowed a neutral flag, will you, because I shan't.'

As it happens, I am too busy at the moment to do anything of the sort, but I will take steps to transfer you to a place where you will be safe pending your trial for espionage.'

Biggles raised his eyebrows. 'I suppose to one who doesn't mind sailing under a false flag, false charges are a mere detail.'

'Do you deny that you are a spy ?'

I most emphatically do. How can I be a spy when I am wearing a British officer's uniform ? The rules of war demand that I be treated as a prisoner of war.'

I am not concerned with the rules of war-or any other rules, Major Bigglesworth. You have given me far too much trouble in the past for me to run one single risk of your escaping. I've got you, and I'm going to keep you until I hand you over to those who will know how to deal with you-and if you have any optimistic views as to what that will be I advise you to dispel them. It so happens that my chief is not far away, so perhaps it would be as well to settle the matter immediately.

With you disposed of I shall pursue my quest for your base with greater a.s.surance.'

I'll bet you will,' sneered Biggles.

Tor the last time, I will offer you certain considerations in return for information concerning the position of your head-quarters.'

And for the last time, von Stalhein, nothing doing. Save your breath. You'll need it before I'm through with you.'

The German shook his head sadly. 'As you wish,' he said quietly. He gave a curt order to the escort and Biggles was marched from the room to a fairly comfortable cabin.

He heard a key turn in the door, and other sounds that told him that a guard had been posted.

Having nothing else to do, he sauntered to the porthole, not with any hope of getting through it for it was obviously much too small, but to see what happened to his machine.

Several men were working on it, cutting the engine from its bed. This was soon hoisted inboard, leaving the wrecked airframe floating on the water. The drifter then got under way, leaving the remains of the Willie-Willie rocking in its wake.

He was about to turn away when a gun crashed. For a moment he thought that the drifter was being attacked, but then he saw a sh.e.l.l burst near the derelict fuselage of his machine, looking strangely pathetic as it drifted alone on the water, and he guessed that von Stalhein had ordered it to be destroyed. That this supposition was correct was soon confirmed when several shots struck the machine, smas.h.i.+ng the floats and causing it to settle slowly in the water.

Biggles turned, away from the porthole. As far as he was concerned the Willie-Willie was a complete wreck ; he gave it no more thought, nor did he look at it again, so he was unaware that the airframe did not entirely disappear, but remained awash, kept afloat by the air in the undamaged portions of the wings and elevators.