Ginger instinctively looked down, but he could see nothing except the inevitable searchlight beams that were still seeking him. It was with a heavy heart that he turned back towards the coast.

Biggles was still falling through the war-stricken sky. He had deliberately delayed pulling the ripcord for several seconds, but when he did so, and the fabric ballooned out above him, he gazed down at the darkened earth beneath. He could see the aerodrome now, and was satisfied that his jump had been well timed; he would touch down not more than a few hundred yards to the east of it.

He fell when he landed, but he was on his feet in a moment: He could still hear the drone of Ginger's machine fading away to the west, otherwise all was silent. Working quickly, he folded the parachute into a ball and looked round for a place to hide it. There appeared to be only one, and that was a ditch. There was water in the bottom of it, and into this he thrust the parachute and trod on it. This done, he made his way towards the aerodrome, aware that he was taking the most appalling risk he had ever willingly under-taken, a risk compared with which his original task was as nothing. If von Stalhein had returned to Boda, then he was virtually committing suicide.

n.o.body challenged him as he walked towards his quarters, for this, he decided, might be the safest place for him until he had made certain inquiries that he had in mind, inquiries concerning Algy and von Stalhein. Near the officers' mess he met a German whom he knew slightly, and he was about to accost him when Kristen appeared. Kristen stopped dead when he saw Biggles.

'Where have you come from?' he demanded in an amazed voice.

'What do you mean-where have I come from?' returned Biggles.

'Where were you all day yesterday?'

I've been doing a job for the Gestapo-I thought I told you that?'

'Yes, you did, but-well, I thought-people have been looking for you.'

'People? For me? Why?' Biggles feigned bland surprise.

'But wasn't it you who took the machine from here, the Messerschmitt, and made of with it?'

'Machine? What on earth are you talking about?'

'Somebody took a Messerschmitt from here without permission, and as you couldn't be found it was thought that you had taken it. A fellow named von Stalhein was here looking for you. The word came that the missing machine had landed at Stavanger, so he went on there.'

'Then I'd better have a word with him-that is, if he is back here,' said Biggles calmly. '

D'you happen to know if he came back?'

'He may have done, but I haven't seen him.' 'Then I'll ring up my chief in Oslo and find out.'

Biggles moved on towards the orderly room, but stopped suddenly. 'By the way, what is this rumour I hear about an English spy being captured here?' Kristen shook his head. 'I haven't heard anything about it. What did you hear?'

Only that a strange Englishman had been found prowling about the aerodrome.'

'Well, I've heard nothing of it.'

Biggles nodded. 'Evidently it was only a rumour-see you later.' He walked on, well satisfied with his inquiries.

While it was by no means certain, he thought, it rather looked as if von Stalhein had not come back to Boda; and it was hardly likely that Algy had been captured without Kristen hearing something about it. It might be a.s.sumed, then, that Algy was still at large, and since his mission was to find Biggles, it was reasonable to suppose that he would be near the aerodrome-if not actually on it. But where? Where could he be?

Biggles tried to put himself in Algy's place, asking himself how he would have acted had the position been reversed. The most reasonable supposition, he concluded, was that Algy would not actually be on the aerodrome, where he would be open to question, but was more likely to be hiding near the boundary, watching and waiting for a chance to speak to him. In the circ.u.mstances Biggles thought he might take a walk round the aerodrome boundary, whistling a tune known to both of them; then, if Algy were near, he would reveal himself. But there was something he would have to do first, and that was to endeavour to allay suspicions concerning himself. The best way of doing that might be to ring up the Hotel Port and speak to von Hymann. He could tell him that he had been looking for von Stalhein.

With this object in view he made his way to the squadron office where, finding the adjutant in charge, he asked permission to use the telephone for the purpose of getting into touch with von Hymann at the Hotel Port. Permission was given, but not until he had been subjected to a further difficult cross-examination, for it seemed that the adjutant was also under the impression that it was he who had taken the Messerchmitt. However, Biggles satisfied him by referring vaguely to his Gestapo duties, and put the call through to von Hymann.

It was answered by von Stalhein. He announced his name.

Even before his crisp 'h.e.l.lo' had faded from the wire Biggles knew that he had made a blunder. Not so much a blunder, perhaps, as an error of judgement. He felt that he should have thought of the possibility of von Stalhein answering the telephone, since, after the bombing of Stavanger, Oslo was the most likely place for him to go to; and in Oslo he would certainly make for Gestapo head-quarters.

Biggles realized this now, but up to that moment the possibility had not dawned on him.

However, he did not lose his head. He could not afford to do so, for the adjutant was watching him curiously. And for this same reason he dare not dissemble by giving a fict.i.tious name. All he dare do was alter his tone of voice, for unless he did so von Stalhein would recognize it at once. He might do so, anyway.

'This is number 2001,' said Biggles; 'I wish to speak to Oberleutnant von Hymann.'

'Von Hymann is not here. 1 am answering for him,' returned von Stalhein curtly. 'What did you say your number was?'

'2001!.

There was a brief pause. Then, 'What is your name?' asked von Stalhein.

'My orders were to use a number only, sir.'

am now asking you for your name. What is it?'

'Hendrik -Leutnant Hendrik.' Biggles could almost see von Stalhein's face at the other end of the line. There was another short pause. 'What game d'you think you're playing? You know I've been looking for you?'

'So I understand, sir, but it seems that we have just missed each other. I was given a job to do by Oberleutnant von Hymann.'

'Where are you speaking from now?'

'From Boda.'

Another pause. 'Indeed! Well, I want to see you, to get details of your adventure in Narvik.'

'You mean about the English spy, Bigglesworth?' 'Yes.' Von Stalhein's voice was little more than a whisper.

'Would you like me to proceed further with the-' 'No,' interrupted von Stalhein sharply.

'Remain where you are.'

'I'll come to Oslo and report to you if you wish,' offered Biggles, to gain time.

'No, I'd rather come out to Boda. On no account leave the aerodrome until I arrive.'

'Can I expect you-to-night?'

There was yet another pause. 'No, I'm too busy here to leave just now. I'll be along in the morning,' said von Stalhein casually.

'Then I'll wait for you here. Good-night, sir.'

Biggles hung up, thinking fast. He knew that both he and von Stalhein had been bluffing.

No doubt the German had been as taken aback by the call as he had been to hear him answer it. Both had fenced-neither of them could very well do anything else.

I gather you're not very popular at the moment,' said the German.

Biggles grimaced. 'It isn't my fault. I wasn't attached to the Gestapo from choice. I'm a pilot. Frankly, the sooner I've finished with this Gestapo business and get on regular flying work the better I shall be pleased.'

The adjutant seemed inclined to be sympathetic. Like most German soldiers he had no love for the Gestapo. 'I'll see what I can do about it,' he promised. 'Meanwhile, don't leave the aerodrome.'

Of course not,' agreed Biggles, and went out.

But he did not go far. He had a suspicion. Whether von Stalhein had recognized his voice or not he did not know, but in any case he would be very, very anxious to see this elusive Norwegian named Hendrik-too anxious to wait until the morning. Biggles knew von Stalhein too well to suppose that he would delay his visit for several hours-time for him to get away. No! It was quite possible that von Stalhein had said that he would not be along that night in order to lull him into a false sense of security. It was far more likely that he would start for Boda forthwith in a fast car.

A minute later Biggles heard the sound he expected to hear. It was the shrill jangle of the telephone. Standing close to the door he thought straining his ears he could hear the adjutant's end of the conversation.

'You mean Hendrik, sir?' he was saying. 'Yes, he's still on the aerodrome.'

Biggles smiled grimly.

'Did you say arrest him?' continued the adjutant in a surprised voice. 'Of course, sir, if you say so. What is the charge? Leave it until you come-very well, sir. I'll have Hendrik watched, and if he attempts to leave the aerodrome I'll have him arrested immediately.

You'll be along in-half an hour. Very good, sir.' There was a clang as the adjutant hung up the receiver.

Biggles waiting for no more. With the adjutant about to detail men to watch him, and von Stalhein due to arrive in half an hour, he felt that Boda, from being unhealthy, had become malignant. He walked briskly away into the moonlight, realizing that he was now virtually a fugitive, yet forbidden by his code of honour even to attempt to escape while Algy was there looking for him. Where was Algy?

In sheer desperation Biggles began walking along the boundary of the aerodrome, whistling quietly, aware that now people on the aerodrome were looking for him the very minutes of his freedom were numbered. He broke into a run, and finally, in sheer desperation, called Algy by name. But there was no reply. Sick at heart he hurried on and completed a circuit of the aerodrome. Looking at his watch he saw that half an hour had elapsed since von Stalhein had rung up. The moon was now high, making it dangerous for him to move about.

Despondent, and hardly knowing what to do next, he made his way to the hangars, taking care to keep within their deepest shadows. Watching, he saw a car coming up the private drive that led from the main road to the club-house. Outside the orderly room, which was less than a hundred yards from where he stood, it stopped. A slim figure alighted and moved quickly. It was von Stalhein.

Biggles watched him for a moment with a peculiar smile on his face; then he walked quickly towards the main road. He felt that whatever Algy's predicament might be, no useful purpose could be served by remaining where he was. He could not stay at Boda.

If he did, capture was inevitable, and once that happened all hope of helping Algy -or himself for that matter-would be gone. While he remained at large there was still a chance-not a very bright one, admittedly, but a slim chance is better than none at all.

Now in order to reach the main road it was necessary for him to walk across the open moonlit area traversed by the drive. There were no trees, no bushes, nothing to offer cover, for these, as is customary near aerodromes, had been removed to prevent them from becoming obstructions to the movement of aircraft. He had gone only a few yards when there was a shout behind him. Looking back he saw Kristen, running, followed by a car-von Stalhein's car.

Kristen shouted. 'Hi! Stop! They want you in the office.'

'You're telling me,' muttered Biggles grimly.

He could, he thought, outrun Kristen, but there could be no escape from the car, which had now increased its speed and was fast overtaking him. Seeing that flight could no longer avail him, he drew his pistol and waited. He was in no mood to face von Stalhein's triumph.

As the car drew level a head appeared at the window, and he saw that the driver wore a German uniform greatcoat.

'Can I give you a lift?' said a calm voice, in English.

For a split second Biggles stood transfixed, his lips parted, his expression almost one of idiocy. Then he gulped, and flung himself into the car.

The driver was Algy.

'Where would you like to go, sir?' he inquired whimsically, after the manner of a taxi-driver.

Anywhere,' gasped Biggles, 'but get going and make it fast.'

'Certainly, sir.' Algy swung into the main road and pressed the accelerator flat.

Chapter 10.

On the Run For perhaps a minute neither Biggles nor Algy spoke. As a matter of fact it took Biggles that time to recover from the shock. Then, 'where the d.i.c.kens did you spring from?' he inquired.

'Oh, I was just hanging around, you know, in case I was wanted,' returned Algy lightly.

'Where did you get that uniform?'

It's only a greatcoat. I borrowed it from the souvenir chest of the ship I was in.'

'Oh, yes-I remember now; Ginger told me about it,' nodded Biggles. 'Where did you get this car?' It was standing outside station headquarters.' 'You know to whom it. belongs?'

'Too true I do. I saw von Stalhein get out.'

Biggles laughed hysterically. 'Strewth! Last night I pinched his plane; now we've got his car. We shall have to drop him a line and thank him for providing us with transport.'

'As a matter of fact,' continued Algy, 'I was hanging around near head-quarters hoping to see you-which I did. I saw you break cover and make for the road, and it was obvious that you were in a tight spot. Von Stalhein's car was standing where he had left it, so, knowing how you hate walking, I thought I might as well bring it along.'

'Thanks, laddie,' said Biggles seriously. 'You were just about in time. Things were getting hot-too jolly hot.'

Algy grinned. 'So I gathered. But isn't it time we decided where to go?'

'Ginger's waiting for us in the fiord,' declared Biggles. 'We ought to try to get to him, but I'm afraid we should never get there in this car. Von Stalhein will get on the phone and warn his patrols to be on the look-out for us. Of course, it would take a bit of time to warn everybody, so there's a chance that we might reach Oslo. If we go on at this rate we ought to do it in twenty minutes, and that will hardly be long enough for von Stalhein's crowd to get barricades up. Make for Oslo.'

And then what?'

'Let's wait until we get there before we decide that. We may have to leave the car and hide, and hiding will be easier in a city than in open country. We'll make for the harbour.

There were some flying-boats there the last time I saw the place. For your information, I'm a member of the Gestapo; I mention that because I've got a pa.s.s in my pocket which may help us.

'Will it still work, do you think?' queried Algy. 'Won't von Stalhein take steps to have the bearer of it arrested?'

unquestionably; but with the country in this state it will take him a but of time to notify every German in Norway. Speed now is everything.'

'So you've seen Ginger? What had he got to talk about?'

'He gave me the low-down on everything. Afterwards I sent him to England with some information, and when he came back he brought me over to Boda. He should be back at the fiord now.

Unfortunately I got there too late to stop you coming to look for me. Incidentally, in the information I sent back to Raymond I told him about Boda, and suggested that our bombers came over and knocked the place about a bit. That was one of the reasons why I was in a hurry to get you out of it.'

'This may be our boys coming now,' put in Algy, peering upwards through the windscreen.

Looking through the window, Biggles saw that the sky was ablaze with searchlights. At a terrific height specks of flame marked the burst of anti-aircraft gunfire.

'By Jingo! You're right! Those are our fellows,' declared Biggles. 'They've come at a good moment. When they start dropping their loads on the aerodrome the people there will have something else to think of besides telephoning to Oslo about us.'