Biggles Fails to Return.

Captain W. E. Johns.

Chapter 1.

Where is Biggles?

Flight Lieutenant Algy Lacey, D.F.C., looked up as Flying Officer 'Ginger' Hebblethwaite entered the squadron office and saluted.

'Hel o, Ginger-sit down,' invited Algy in a dul voice.

Ginger groped for a chair-groped because his eyes were on Algy's face. It was pale, and wore such an expression as he had never before seen on it.

'What's happened?' he asked wonderingly.

Before Algy could answer there was an interruption from the door. It was opened, and the effeminate face of Flight Lieutenant Lord 'Bertie'

Lissie grinned a greeting into the room.

'What cheer, how goes it, and al that?' he murmured.

Algy did not smile. 'Stop fooling. Either come in or push off,' he said curtly.

Bertie threw a glance at Ginger and came in.

'I wasn't going to mention this to you, Bertie, but as you're here you might as wel listen to what I have to say,' resumed Algy.

'Go ahead,' said Ginger impatiently. 'What's on your mind?'

'I'm very much afraid that something serious has happened to Biggles.'

There was silence while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked out ten seconds and threw them into the past.

'Is this-official?' asked Ginger.

'No.'

'Then what put the idea into your head?'

'This,' answered Algy, picking up a flimsy, buff-coloured slip of paper that lay on his desk. 'I'm promoted to Squadron Leader with effect from to-day, and . . . I am now in command of this squadron.'

'Which can only mean that Biggles isn't coming back?' breathed Ginger.

'That's how I figure it.'

'And you had no suspicion, before this order came in, that-'

'Yes and no,' broke in Algy. 'That is to say, I was not consciously alarmed, but as soon as I read that chit I knew that I had been uneasy in my mind for some days. Now, looking back, I can remember several things which make me wonder why I wasn't suspicious before.'

'But here, I say, you know, I thought Biggles was on leave?' put in Bertie, polishing his eyegla.s.s briskly.

'So did we al ,' returned Algy quietly. 'That, of course, is what we were intended to think.'

Bertie thrust his hands into his pockets. 'Biggles isn't the sort of chap to push off to another unit without letting us know what was in the wind,' he declared.

'Let us,' suggested Algy, 'consider the facts-as Biggles would say. Here they are, as I remember them, starting from the beginning. Last Thursday week Biggles had a phone cal from the Air Ministry.

There was nothing strange about that. I was in the office at the time and I thought nothing of it. When Biggles hung up he said to me-I remember his words distinctly-"Take care of things til I get back."

I said "Okay." Of course, that has happened so many times before that I supposed it was just routine.

Biggles didn't get back that night til after dinner. He seemed sort of preoccupied, and I said to him, "Is everything al right?" He said, "Of course-why not?"

' Algy paused to light a cigarette with fingers that were trembling slightly.

'The next morning-that is, on the Friday-he surprised me by saying that he was taking the week-end off. I was surprised because, as you know, he rarely goes away. He has nowhere particular to go, and he has more than once told me that he would as soon be on the station as anywhere.'

'And you think this business starts from that time?'

remarked Ginger.

'I'm sure of it. Biggles can be a pretty good actor when he likes, and there was nothing in his manner to suggest that anything serious was afoot. He tidied up his desk, and said he hoped to be back on Monday-that is, last Monday as ever was. We need have no doubt that when he said that he meant it. He hoped hoped to be back. In other words, he would have been back last Monday if the thing-whatever it was to be back. In other words, he would have been back last Monday if the thing-whatever it was -had gone off al right. When he went away he looked at me with that funny little smile of his and said, "Take care of things, old boy." Being rather slow in the uptake, I saw nothing significant about that at the time, but now I can see that it implied he was not sure that he was coming back.'

Ginger nodded. 'That fits in with how he behaved with me. Normal y, he's a most undemonstrative bloke, but he shook hands with me and gave me a spot of fatherly advice. I wondered a bit at the time, but, like you, I didn't attach any particular importance to it.'

'It wasn't until after he'd gone,' continued Algy, 'that I discovered that he'd left the station without leaving an address or telephone number. Knowing what a stickler he is for regulations, it isn't like him to break them himself by going off without leaving word where he could be found in case of emergency. That was the last we've seen of him. I didn't think anything of it until Wednesday, when I had to ring up Forty Squadron. It was their guest night, and Biggles was to be guest of honour. He had accepted the invitation. Biggles doesn't accept invitations and then not turn up. When he accepted that one you can bet your life he intended to be there; and the fact that he didn't turn up, or even ring up, means that he couldn't make it. It must have been something serious to stop him. I began to wonder what he could be up to. Yesterday I was definitely worried, but when be up to. Yesterday I was definitely worried, but when this Group order came in this morning, posting me to the command of the squadron, it hit me like a ton of bricks. To sum up, I suspect the Ministry asked Biggles to do a job, a job from which there was a good chance he wouldn't come back. He went.

Whatever the job was, it came unstuck. He didn't get back. It takes a bit of swal owing, but there it is. It's no use blinking at facts, but the shock has rather knocked me off my pins. I thought you'd better know, but don't say anything to the others-yet.'

Ginger spoke. 'If the Air Ministry has given you the squadron they must know know he isn't coming back.' he isn't coming back.'

Algy nodded. 'I'm afraid you're right.'

Bertie stepped into the conversation. 'But that doesn't make sense-if you see what I mean? If the Ministry knows knows that something has happened to Biggles his name would be in the current casualty list that something has happened to Biggles his name would be in the current casualty list -kil ed, missing, prisoner, or something.'

'That depends on what sort of job it was,' argued Algy. 'The Ministry might know the truth, but it might suit them to say nothing.'

'But that isn't good enough,' protested Ginger hotly. 'We can't let Biggles fade out . . . just like that.'

He snapped his fingers.

'What can we do about it?'

'There's one man who'l know the facts.'

'You mean-Air Commodore Raymond, of Intel igence?'

'Yes.'

'He won't tel us anything.'

'Won't he, by thunder!' snorted Ginger. 'After al the sticky shows we've done for him, and the risks we've taken for his department, he can't treat us like this.'

'Are you going to tel him that?' asked Algy sarcastical y.

'I certainly am.'

'But it's against orders to go direct to the Air Ministry-you know that.'

'Orders or no orders, I'm going to the Air House,'

declared Ginger. 'They're glad enough to see us when they're stuck with something they can't untangle; they can't shut the door when they don't want to see us. Oh, no, they can't get away with that.

I'm going to see the Air Commodore if I have to tear the place down brick by brick until I get to him. Is he a man or is he a skunk? I say, if he's a man he'l see us, and come clean.'

'You go on like this and we shal al finish under close arrest.'

'Who cares?' flaunted Ginger. 'I want to know the truth. If Biggles has been kil ed-wel , that's that.

What I can't stand is this uncertainty, this knowing nothing. Dash it, it isn't fair on us.'

'I am inclined to agree with you,' said Algy grimly.

'Ours has been no ordinary combination, and Raymond knows that as wel as anybody. Let's go and tackle the Air Commodore. He can only throw us out.'

'Here, I say, what about me?' inquired Bertie plaintively. 'Don't I get a look in?'

'Come with us, and we'l make a deputation of it,'

decided Algy.

An hour later an Air Ministry messenger was showing them into an office through a door on which was painted in white letters the words, Air Air Commodore R. B. Raymond, D.S.O. Air Commodore R. B. Raymond, D.S.O. Air Intelligence. Intelligence. The Air Commodore, who knew Algy and Ginger wel , and had met Bertie, shook hands and invited them to be seated. The Air Commodore, who knew Algy and Ginger wel , and had met Bertie, shook hands and invited them to be seated.

'You know, of course, that you had no business to come here on a personal matter without an invitation?' he chided gently, raising his eyebrows.

'This is more than a personal matter, sir,'

answered Algy. 'It's a matter that concerns the morale of a squadron. You've probably guessed what it is?'

The Air Commodore nodded. 'I know. I was wondering how long you would be putting two and two together. Wel , I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but there is little I can tel you.'

'Do you mean you can't or you won't, sir?'

demanded Ginger bluntly.

'What exactly is it you want to know?'

Algy answered: 'Our question is, sir, where is Biggles?'

'I wish I knew,' returned the Air Commodore slowly, and with obvious sincerity.

'But you know where he went?'

'Yes.'

'Wil you tel us that?'

'What useful purpose would it serve?'

'We might be able to do something about it.'

'I'm afraid that's quite out of the question.'

'Do you mean-he's been kil ed?'

'Do you mean-he's been kil ed?'

'He may be. In fact, what evidence we have al points to that. But we have no official notification of it.'

There was a brief and rather embarra.s.sing silence. The Air Commodore gazed through the window at the blue sky, drumming on his desk with his fingers.

'Knowing what we have been to each other in the past, sir, don't you think we are ent.i.tled to some explanation?' pressed Algy.

'The matter is secret.'

'So were a good many other things you've told us about in the past, sir, when you needed Biggles to straighten them out.'

The Air Commodore appeared to reach a decision. He looked round. 'Very wel ,' said he. 'Your argument is reasonable, and I won't attempt to deny it. I'l tel you what I know-in the strictest confidence, of course.'

'We've never let you down yet, sir,' reminded Algy.

'Al right. Don't rub it in.' The Air Commodore smiled faintly, then became serious. 'Here are the facts. About ten days ago we received information that a very important person whom I need not name, but who I wil cal Princess X, had escaped from Italy.

This lady is an Italian, or, rather, a Sicilian, one of those who hate Mussolini*1 and al his works. Her father, wel known before the war for his anti-Fascist views, was kil ed in what was al eged to be an accident. Actual y he was murdered. Princess X knew that, and she plotted against the regime.

Mussolini's police found out, and when Italy entered the war she was arrested. Friends-members of a secret society-inside Italy helped her to escape.

She was to make for Ma.r.s.eil es, where we had made arrangements to pick her up. Unfortunately, she was pursued, and in the hope of eluding her pursuers she struck off at a tangent and eventual y reached the Princ.i.p.ality of Monaco, in the south-east corner of France, where she knew someone, a wealthy Italian business man, a banker, whom she had befriended in the past. She thought he would give her shelter. She reached his vil a safely, and got word through to us by one of our agents who was in touch with her, giving us the address, and imploring us to rescue her. By this time the hue and cry was up, and it would have been suicidal for her to attempt up, and it would have been suicidal for her to attempt to reach Ma.r.s.eil es, or a neutral country Spain, for instance alone. We were most anxious to have her here, and we realized that if anything was to be done there was no time to lose. We decided to attempt to rescue her by air. We sent for Bigglesworth, who has had a lot of experience at this sort of thing, and asked his opinion. He offered to do the job.'

'You mean, go to Monaco, pick up the princess and bring her here?'

'Yes. But the job was not as easy as it sounds- not that it sounds easy. The difficulty did not lie so much in getting Biggles there, because he could be dropped by parachute; but to pick him up was a different matter. That meant landing an aircraft.