42 Biggles Follows On Part 1

42 Biggles Follows On Part 1

42 Biggles Follows On.

Captain W E Johns.

CHAPTER I.

Ginger Brings News.

Air Constable 'Ginger' Hebblethwaite burst into Air Police Headquarters at Scotland Yard with an urgency that suggested he had important news to impart. 'Hold on to your seats,' he said tersely. 'You're going to take a b.u.mp.'




Biggles a" and Algy and Bertie, who were with him a" looked up from their several tasks. 'We're all set,' announced Biggles. 'Let it go.'

'Who do you think I've just seen?' demanded Ginger, looking from one to the other.

'You're wasting time,' Biggles told him. 'This isn't a quiz contest.'

'Erich von Stalhein.'

Lines of surprise creased Biggles' forehead. 'Are you sure?' 'Certain.'

'Where did this happen?'

'Outside Victoria Station. I was coming away from Airways House and saw him turn into the Grosvenor Hotel. I went after him and was just in time to see him step into the lift.

After that I couldn't follow without him seeing me a" not that there would have been much point in it, anyway. He must be staying at the hotel.'

Biggles still looked dubious. 'You're positive of this?'

'Absolutely. He was complete with eyegla.s.s and that long cigarette-holder he always uses.'

'What time was this?'

'About twenty minutes ago a" say, just after six o'clock.'

'How was he looking? I mean, as regards appearance? Did he look prosperous or otherwise?'

'I imagine he'd have to be fairly prosperous to stay at the Grosvenor.

But somehow he looked older, a bit careworn, as if he'd been under the weather.'

'He'd probably think the same of me if he saw me,' observed Biggles, reaching for a cigarette. 'I wonder what he's doing in London. Only business of some sort could have brought him. He must be pretty hard pushed for money, or he wouldn't have come to a country which we know he detests, particularly as there was always a chance of his b.u.mping into us. He's never got over the fact that through us Germany lost the first war.'

'If he's here on business, you can bet it's something shady,' put in Algy.

'There are people who would apply that word to some of the jobs we've had to do,'

reminded Biggles.

'How about spying? Wouldn't you call that shady?'

Biggles blew a smoke ring. 'If it is, our own careers wouldn't stand close investigation. I would only call the business shady when it's applied to a man working against his own country. Let's be fair about that. There was a time when a spy was regarded as something lower than a rat, even by the military bra.s.s-hats who profited by the information the spies brought in. But not now. Today, espionage is a recognised profession, and a dangerous one at that. Spies are a military necessity.

Every country employs hundreds, most of them hopelessly underpaid for the risks they take and the results they achieve.

Napoleon reckoned that one spy in the right place was worth twenty thousand men in the field a" and he wasn't far wrong. The truth is, an effective spy is hated simply because he is feared. But why this talk of spies anyhow?'

'a.s.sociation of ideas, old boy,' murmured Bertie. 'Spying and von Stalhein are one and the same thing.'

Biggles frowned. 'All right. So what? Don't forget that when I first collided with von Stalhein I was a spy in his country, although that was not from choice. I acted under orders. But I was still a spy, although I would have called myself a soldier. So was von Stalhein a soldier in the first place. Because he was efficient, he was seconded to the Wilhelmstra.s.se for top counter-espionage work. He suspected me from the start. Had he been given a free hand I wouldn't be here now. As I said a moment ago, what has happened to him since was largely the result of Germany losing the war. The shock of that knocked him off the rails, and he's never got on them again. He's been fighting a sort of one-man war against this country ever since.'

Tor heaven's sake!' cried Algy indignantly. 'Are you making excuses for him?'

Biggles shrugged. 'Up to a point. Who can say what we would have become had we lost the war?'

'We wouldn't have done some of the things von Stalhein has done,'

declared Ginger emphatically. 'He hates the sight of you, and you know it.'

'He has no reason to regard me with affection.'

'He'd b.u.mp you off tomorrow if he had the chance.' Biggles smiled faintly. 'Okay a" okay!

The b.u.mping off may come yet. I'm not really making excuses for the man, but one must be fair. Von Stalhein came from an old Prussian military family. When Germany lost the war, he lost everything a" home, estate, careera"'

'And his self-respect,' interposed Algy.

'What was he to do? Can you see a man with his background taking a job in an office?'

'Some people have had to do that, old boy,' put in Bertie.

Biggles stubbed his cigarette. 'Have it your own way. The real tragedy for von Stalhein was, he survived the war.'

'He must have regretted a thousand times that he didn't stand you up in front of a firing-party when he had the chance,' said Ginger.

'It's time you knew that regret doesn't get you anywhere,' returned Biggles. 'Neither does this sort of argument. Let's stick to the present.

Von Stalhein is in England. Knowing who and what he is, we are bound to regard him with suspicion. He ought to be watched.

Strictly speaking, that isn't our affair. It's a job for the counter-espionage people at M.I.5.'

'Why not arrest him before he can get into mischief?' suggested Algy.

'On what charge?'

'He's been breaking the law for years, and we know it.'

'Yes, we know it. But how are we going to prove it? What are we going to use for evidence? In this country judges are not interested in what people think.'

There was a silence that lasted for several seconds.

'No, it isn't as simple as that,' went on Biggles. 'Von Stalhein is no fool. He's played in some queer games, with some queer people, as we know only too well; but we should have a job to pin any specific crime on him.'

'What are you going to do about him, then?' inquired Ginger. 'Hand him over to M.I.5?'

'Our proper course would be to tip them off that he's here,' answered Biggles. 'But I must confess to some curiosity about the man. For instance, I'd like to see his pa.s.sport, to find out how he got into the country.' Biggles tapped another cigarette thoughtfully. 'At this juncture I feel inclined to compromise. I mean, I'll try to get a line on what he's doing before I put the matter on official record.'

'Even before you tell the Air Commodore?' queried Algy.

'Yes. Once the Air Commodore knows about this he could act only through official channels, and that would cramp our actions.'

'Why not let one of us go down and keep an eye on him?' suggested Ginger.

Biggles shook his head. 'No use. He knows us all by sight. One glimpse of us and he'd be gone. Besides, that sort of job isn't really up our street. I'll have a word with Inspector Gaskin, of C Department. He has fellows who are experts at shadowing. Being unknown to von Stalhein it wouldn't matter if he saw them.'

Biggles reached for the intercom telephone and called the department to which he had referred. Presently he was speaking to the head of it. 'Can you spare me five minutes?' he inquired. 'Thanks, Inspector.' He replaced the receiver. 'He's coming up,' he told the others.

Presently the powerfully-built detective came in. 'What's worrying you?'

he asked Biggles, as he took a seat and began filling his pipe.

Biggles explained the position. He described von Stalhein and ran briefly over his record.

'What do you want me to do?' asked the inspector, thumbing the tobacco into his pipe.

'I want to find out what von Stalhein is doing in England,' answered Biggles. 'He knows us all by sight, so we daren't go near him. For a start, I'd like to know how long he's been here, and how long he intends to stay. It would also be interesting to know how he got into the country a" whether he flew in or came in by surface transport. He may not be using his own name. The reception people at the hotel must have seen his pa.s.sport. We might wonder how he managed to get one, and from what country. You might find out where he's spending his time, if he's alone or with friends a" and all that sort of thing. In short, any information about him would be useful. I've helped you once or twice. This is where you can return the compliment.'

'Shouldn't be any difficulty about that,' stated the inspector. 'Give me twenty-four hours.

That should be long enough. I'll come round about this time tomorrow and tell you what I know.'

'Thanks a lot, Inspector,' replied Biggles. 'We'll be here.'

The detective got up. 'If that's all, I'll get back. I've plenty on my plate to keep me busy.

Be seeing you.' He went out.

'That's capital,' a.s.serted Biggles. 'All we have to do is sit back and wait for tomorrow.'

The inspector was as good as his word. Shortly after six o'clock when he walked into the Air Police office, notebook in hand, everyone was waiting, curious to hear the news.

'I've had a look at your man,' announced the inspector casually, turning over some pages of his notebook and putting it on the table where he could refer to it easily. Did you say he's a German?'

Biggles answered: 'He was.'

'Well, he isn't now.'

'I can't say that surprises me.'

'No, but I'll bet you'll be surprised when I tell you what he is.' 'A Pole?'

'No.'

'Austrian?'

'No.'

'Russian?'

'No.'

'Give it up.'

'He's either an American citizen, born in New York, or a Czech, born in Prague.'

Biggles' eyes opened wide. 'There's a lot of difference. How did you work it out?'

'He's got two pa.s.sports, so that he can be an American or a Czech, as it suits him. At the moment he's an American.'

'What name is he using?'

'Stalek, in each case. Jan Stalek. In America he would, no doubt, say he was of Dutch descent.'

'From what you tell me, I a.s.sume you've been in his room.' 'I had a look round.'

'How long has he been here?'

'Four months.'

'Four months!' Biggles looked amazed. 'By thunder! I wouldn't have guessed that, either.

Has he been in London all the time?'

'No. He made a trip to Paris. He first came to London from New York, via Southampton.

A month ago he went to Paris by boat and train. He came back the same way after three days.'

'What's he doing?'

'According to his papers he's a salesman for an American firm of general merchants.'

'If he's been here for four months he must have some money.' 'He came armed with plenty of dollars. Useful things nowadays a" dollars. They'll take you almost anywhere.'

'What on earth could he have been doing for four months?'