'Then he's okay after al .'

'He looks as though he could do with a top overhaul, otherwise he's al right,' a.s.serted Algy.

'The princess is here, too.'

'Wel , knock me down with a blanket! That's the tops!' cried Ginger delightedly, quickening his pace.

'Wait til you see the princess-she's a wizard.'

'I'm not interested in princesses,' declared Ginger casual y.

'She saved Biggles.'

'He saved her first, so what about it?' inquired Ginger. 'There's only one girl I want to see. . . .'

'Oh, good lor! Haven't you forgotten her yet?'

lamented Bertie.

Ginger glared. 'What do you mean-forgotten her?' he demanded harshly.

'What is is this?' interposed Algy. this?' interposed Algy.

'Henri's sister, Jeanette, has shot poor old Ginger to bits,' explained Bertie sadly.

Ginger tapped Bertie on the chest with an irate, and very dirty, finger. 'Listen, my n.o.ble comrade. . . .'

Algy stopped the argument. He could see trouble brewing. 'Al right, no more talking,' he broke in tersely. 'Wait til we get inside.'

This did not take long. Mario took Lucil e to a stable, promising to feed and water her. Ginger walked and Henri was carried, into the cel ar.

Biggles was up, and smiling. He greeted Ginger warmly, but was too concerned about Henri to go into immediate explanations. He asked the princess to examine the sick man, which she did with semi-professional ability, removing the bandages from his head to look at the wound. When she had finished, and had rebandaged Henri's head, she took Biggles on one side.

'He is bad,' she said. 'The wound is clean, and seems to be healing, but it wil take time. Also, he seems to be healing, but it wil take time. Also, he suffers from shock. This journey has made great demands on his strength. Only his wil kept him going for so long. What he needs is rest, and, of course, most of al , a doctor.'

'A doctor!' cried Biggles in dismay. 'There's no hope of that here-unless we hand him back to the police, and that, in the long run, would do him more harm than good. We shal have to do what we can for him here-at any rate, until we see how he shapes.

With one thing and another we're a pretty groggy lot.

How about you, Ginger?'

'Oh, I'm al right,' replied Ginger lightly. 'That hike across the mountains, coming on top of everything else, sort of emptied my reserve tanks, but they're fil ing up again now. You don't look as smart yourself as I have seen you look.'

'I'm on my feet, at al events,' answered Biggles, smiling. 'Let me introduce you to the Princess Marietta de Palma.'

The princess gave Ginger her hand, with a smile.

'Your commandant has often spoken of you during the long while we have been here. I am happy to meet his friends. Forgive me, now, I must get back to my patient.'

While the princess was making Henri as comfortable as possible on the bed recently vacated by Biggles, Ginger told his story. 'We were doing fine til we were nearly here, then poor old Henri began to fold up,' he concluded. 'Al I need is a rest, but I'm afraid Henri needs more than that. He pretended he was al right, and I didn't realize how sick he was until he col apsed. That mule track was no macadam highway.'

Mario appeared. 'I makka da soup, and da spaghetti alla Napoletana spaghetti alla Napoletana,' he announced.

The princess got up from the bedside. 'With food and rest he wil improve, but he real y should have a doctor. I wil help Mario with the soup.' She went up the steps to the kitchen.

'This is some princess,' remarked Ginger as she disappeared. 'She can nurse, and apparently she can cook.'

'Princess Marietta is the real thing,' declared Biggles. 'She's been wonderful.'

'Here, I say, this is getting a bit thick,' muttered Bertie, polishing his eyegla.s.s furiously. 'First Jeanette, now a bal y princess. I don't hold with al these women in the party.'

'There are only two, so far,' returned Biggles blandly.

Bertie shook his head sadly. 'Women and planes don't mix. I once had a pal, a jol y good pilot, too, who walked straight into a spinning airscrew. He was looking at a gal who had just stepped on the tarmac. That's the sort of thing that happens-if you see what I mean?'

'Oh, go and play yourself a tune,' murmured Ginger.

'What would be more to the point,' suggested Biggles, 'let's get together and talk things over. But I'l tel you this,' he added. 'Since meeting Princess Marietta my opinion of princesses has touched a new alt.i.tude record.'

'Suppose we cut out this romancing and get down to bra.s.s tacks?' broke in Algy. 'We've got to get Henri a doctor, and we shan't get one here. We've also to get ourselves home, and that-forgive me if I appear pessimistic-doesn't look easy. Start thinking, somebody, and think fast.'

'Here's Mario-let's have some breakfast first,'

proposed Biggles, as Mario and the princess appeared with dishes, plates and cups.

'This war gets curiouser and curiouser-if you get my meaning?' remarked Bertie. 'A couple of days ago Mario tried to b.u.mp me into a gorge; now he's feeding me with soup. I'm al for getting back into the air where I can see where I'm going.'

'What about Biggles being saved by an enemy princess?' queried Ginger. 'That takes a bit of swal owing.'

'That's where you're wrong,' disputed Biggles.

'Princess Marietta isn't an enemy. She isn't even Italian. She's a Sicilian-so is Mario. Apparently there is a difference. Anyway, you wouldn't expect a princess to take orders from a puffed-up scal ywag of the Romagna-that's what the princess cal s Mussolini-who murdered her father. But shut up- here she is.'

Breakfast over, the dishes were col ected by Mario, who disappeared with them up the stairs. A moment later, as the others were about to settle down to talk, he reappeared, beckoning excitedly.

'Come,' he said. 'Many aeroplanes.'

They al hastened up the steps and fol owed the waiter into the open. It was now broad day. But waiter into the open. It was now broad day. But Ginger was not concerned with that. His nerves thril ed as he heard the familiar drone of aircraft.

'There they are, coming up from Italy-' said Biggles, pointing to the south east. 'One, two, three . . . twelve of them. Savoia flying-boats. Must be a squadron on the move. Wonder where they're bound for?'

'Part of the new occupation outfit, I reckon,'

suggested Ginger.

'They're losing height,' observed Biggles. 'They're already over Mentone so they're not going there. I should say it's Monaco, Nice, or possibly Cannes- there's a harbour at each place.'

For a few minutes they watched in silence, watched while the drone of the engines died away and the gliding angle of the aircraft steepened.

'Monaco,' said Biggles. 'Now if only we could get hold of one of those babies. . . .'

'Why not?' murmured Ginger.

'Upon my life, the boy's getting positively reckless,' a.s.serted Bertie.

'If we don't fly it means we've either got to walk or swim, and it's a long trip, either way,' declared Ginger. 'Apart from which, we're getting such a big party that we could hardly hope to strol away without being noticed.'

'Flying would suit me nicely,' interposed Algy. 'You grab one of those machines and you can reckon on me as a pa.s.senger.'

'That's enough fooling,' put in Biggles quietly.

'Ginger was right when he said we are a long way from the nearest friendly frontier. We can't sit here indefinitely; on the other hand, none of us is real y in a fit state to tackle a six or seven hundred mile jaunt.

Henri's condition rules that out, anyway. We've got to get transport of some sort. Admittedly, Mario has an ambulance, and it might get us a little way, but as soon as we ran out of petrol, which is almost impossible to get here, we should be cheesed. An aircraft would suit us admirably, but experience has shown that it isn't as easy to s.n.a.t.c.h a machine in enemy country as some people seem to think. Al the same, the possibilities are worth exploring.'

'I should have thought,' resumed Ginger, 'that the risks of trying to get a plane were no greater than trying to get across the frontier into Spain or Switzerland, the only neutral countries within reach without crossing water. Suppose I go down to Monaco to find out just what the chances of pinching a plane look like?'

'Wait a minute, that's my pigeon,' protested Bertie.

'Why yours?'

'Because I've got a useful pal on the spot-my old boatman, Francois Budette.'

'Al right, let's both go,' agreed Ginger. 'I want to go to Monaco, anyway.'

Bertie groaned. 'It's that girl again.'

'Not at al ,' argued Ginger. 'As far as Henri's mother is concerned, Henri is in jail at Nice, waiting to be shot. She helped me in the preparations for the rescue, so the least we can do is let her know that Henri is safe, so far. Of course, if I saw Jeanette at the same time I should speak to her-out of common politeness.'

'Why this sudden pa.s.sion for good behaviour?'

sneered Algy.

'I think Ginger's right about madame madame,' put in Biggles. 'We must let her know about Henri. But are you in a fit state, Ginger, to walk to Monaco? Don't forget the police are waiting for you.'

'I never felt better in my life,' declared Ginger. 'And as far as the police are concerned-wel , that goes for al of us. I've got Lucil e to ride on, don't forget.'

'Like you, she needs a rest,' Biggles pointed out.

'To save much trouble, suppose Mario went and fetched his ambulance?' suggested the princess.

'Then you could both ride down. And if you went inside you would be out of sight.'

'That sounds better,' a.s.sented Biggles. 'If there's going to be transport I'l go down and have a look at things myself. How does Mario feel about it?'

The princess consulted Mario in rippling Italian.

'He says he thinks it might be done,' she informed the others. 'He's wil ing to try. But unless he is able to get a lift into Monaco it wil be late in the afternoon before he can get back.'

'Now we're getting somewhere,' breathed Ginger enthusiastical y.

'Actual y, I should be the one to go with Biggles and Bertie,' said Algy.

'Not on your life,' denied Ginger. 'You don't even know where Madame Ducoste lives-I do.'

'Okay, Romeo,' submitted Algy, grinning.

'I think it's a deplorable thing that a fel ow can't 'I think it's a deplorable thing that a fel ow can't have a platonic friendship without these lousy insinuations,' snorted Ginger bitterly.

'Al right, laddie, put your hackles down,' consoled Biggles. 'Mario had better get off right away. When he comes back he wil have to stop at the nearest point on the Sospel road. We'l be on the watch for him.'

Mario went off, and the others settled down to discuss their adventures in more detail. Princess Marietta sat by Henri's bed and gave him water from time to time. It was obvious that his head wound was troubling him.

At noon they started to look out for Mario, not that they expected him back so soon, but Biggles was leaving nothing to chance; and as it transpired he was right, for a few minutes after Algy-who had volunteered for the first watch-had taken up his position, he saw a covered vehicle, bearing the red and white colours of the Princ.i.p.ality of Monaco, coming up the slope. He hurried back to the cel ar and informed the others of its arrival.

Biggles, dressed only in his boiler suit, at once prepared to depart. With Bertie and Ginger he went down to the car, which had already been turned, to find Mario at the wheel looking very smart in his uniform. At his suggestion they lay inside on the stretchers. As he closed the door he explained that his quick return was due to his having got a lift on a military lorry from Mentone to Monaco. The flying-boats, he stated, were in the harbour.

The journey to Monaco was made without incident beyond occasional hold-ups due to the congested state of the road. It may have been as a result of the heavy traffic, which kept the police busy, that the ambulance was al owed to pa.s.s without question.

Mario stopped at the end of the Boulevard des Moulins rather than risk running down the hil to the Condamine where he could be seen by the palace guards, who might ask him why he had brought the ambulance out.

'Now I put da ambulance in my garage,' said Mario. 'I pick you up here to take you back-in one hour, yes?'

'That should be ample time for what we want to do,' agreed Biggles, and Mario drove on.

They were proceeding on their way to the harbour when their attention was attracted by a little group of people standing in front of the official notice board at the bottom of the casino gardens.

'Let's see what it's al about,' suggested Ginger.

'Probably the names of the winners in the latest lottery,' predicted Bertie.

'We'l just have a glance in case it affects us,'

decided Biggles, glancing round. There were one or two police about, but they were swamped in the tide of Italian troops. Convoys had parked beside the road and soldiers were everywhere, talking and smoking.

They al walked over to read the notice, which they found had been printed in both French and Italian, under the Italian flag.

As Ginger read it his body seemed to go cold, and his nerves to contract. For the notice concerned them very closely. In the first paragraph it promised a reward of ten thousand francs to anyone submitting information which would lead to the arrest of Henri Ducoste, described as a rebel and a de Gaul eist.

But it was not that which shook Ginger, and gave him a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was the last paragraph. This a.s.serted that if the reward was not claimed, and if Henri had not delivered himself up within twenty-four hours, his mother and sister, Madame and Mademoisel e Ducoste, of Monaco, would be arrested as hostages, and summarily shot.

The signature at the bottom was Signor Gregori Gordino, prefect of the special police.

Biggles nudged Ginger's arm. 'Don't speak a word,' he cautioned. 'Let's get out of the crowd.'