'The Huns kept pace with me, heading me off from the Line all the time, and then I saw some more Huns coming up from the south. That did it. I got the wind up properly, and just made a wild rush for home; I went right through the middle of the Hun formation, and I reckon I should have b.u.mped into someone if they hadn't got out of my way!

I clamped on to my gun lever and sprayed the sky. How I got through I don't know, because I could hear their lead boring through my kite several times.

'Well, I got through, as you can see, but it was sheer luck, I guess. I didn't stop till I saw you in the distance; you may have noticed that I made for you like a long-lost brother.'

'What do you suppose you're flying a kite for?' It was Mahoney who spoke; he had approached un.o.bserved.

'To shoot Huns, I suppose,' was the answer.

'You won't get many if you go on like you did this morning!' was Mahoney's retort.

Oh, give him a chance!' broke in Biggles. 'He hasn't been over here long. D'you really want to get a Hun?' he went on, turning to b.u.t.terworth.

I should say I do!'

'Then suppose we go over together this afternoon and have a look round - that is, you, Algy and me? My engine will be all right by then, and yours only needs a few patches.'

'That's fine! But don't let me b.u.t.t - '

Oh, it's a pleasure! We always try to do the best we can for guests. Don't we, Algy?'

'Certainly!'

'That's fine!' declared b.u.t.terworth. 'Have a ciga- rette?' He took a cigarette case from his pocket and offered it. Biggles took it, removed a cigarette, and examined the case with interest. It was a flat one, slightly bent to fit the pocket. Heavily engraved across the corner were the initials F. T. B.

'Nice case,' Biggles observed, handing it back to its owner.

Then Biggles glanced at his watch.

I think I'll just slip into the office and ring up the sheds to tell them to push on with those machines,' he said. 'Then we had better go in to lunch. Suppose we leave the ground at three?'

'Suits me,' agreed the visitor.

After lunch they rea.s.sembled on the veranda for coffee. Biggles drank his quickly, stood the cup and saucer on the window-sill, and looked across to where b.u.t.terworth was in conversation with Mahoney and Maclaren.

I'm just going to slip up to the sheds to see how things are going on,' he said. 'I shan't be more than a couple of minutes. Algy, you'd better come with me to make sure your machine is O.K.'

He picked up his cap and set off towards the hangars, Algy following. On the way, at a point where the hedge met the footpath, he stooped to break off a thin ash stick, which he trimmed of its leaves and twigs as he walked along.

Are you riding a horse this afternoon?' asked Algy, as he regarded this unusual procedure with mild interest.

Biggles shook his head.

At present I'm just riding a hunch - an idea,' he replied mysteriously. 'Wait a minute, and I'll show you.'

Reaching the sheds, Biggles went straight to the visiting Camel. A new cowling* had been fitted, and the riggers were about to patch the holes in the fuselage.

All right, you can break off for a minute or two: he told the mechanics. And then, to Algy: 'I want you to take a good look at those holes, to see if you can see anything peculiar about them!'

Algy looked at him in amazement, but examined the holes carefully.

'No, I'm dashed if I can see anything unusual about them,' he admitted, after he had finished his scrutiny. 'They look like good, honest bullet-holes to me!'

'Do you remember me asking b.u.t.terworth, at lunch, if he had been under fire before this morning? I asked him the direct question: 'Yes, I remember perfectly, and he said "No".'

'Then what do you make of this?' Biggles inserted the ash stick in a hole on one side of the fuselage, and pushed it until the point rested in the corresponding hole on the opposite side, where the bullet had emerged.

I still don't see -' began Algy. But Biggles cut him short.

'Can you tell me how a bullet could pa.s.s along a * Cover surrounding the engine.

path now indicated by that stick without touching the pilot? It would go through the top part of his leg, wouldn't it? It couldn't possibly miss him entirely, could it?'

'No, it certainly could not!' exclaimed Algy.

Did you notice b.u.t.terworth limping or bleeding, or mentioning being hit? You didn't!

Well, I'm as certain as I stand here that b.u.t.terworth wasn't in the c.o.c.kpit of that aeroplane when that bullet was fired!'

'What on earth made you spot that?' gasped Algy.

'You needn't flatter me on account of my eyesight. It was as plain as a pikestaff. At first I simply thought that b.u.t.terworth was piling on the agony. There are fellows, you know, who walk about talking as if they were Bishops or McCuddens*, and it adds colour to the tale if there are a few holes in the machine. But let us pa.s.s on. This fellow says his name is b.u.t.terworth!

'There's nothing funny about that, is there?'

'There might not be WI didn't happen to know b.u.t.terworth personally!' retorted Biggles.

'I met him at Lympne the last time I was in England!'

'There might be two b.u.t.terworths!' retorted Algy.

'There might. But it would be a thundering funny coincidence if they both had the same initials - * William Avery Bishop VC 1894-1956 Canadian fighter pilot with 72 confirmed victories. The 2nd highest scoring RFC pilot in the First World War, M. Mannock VC being the highest with 73 victories. James McCuddens VC 1895-1918 British fighter pilot with 57 confirmed victories (4th highest scorer). Killed in a flying accident in July 1918.

F. T. B. - and the same identical cigarette-case, with the initials engraved in the same way in the same place!'

Algy stared.

'The same cigarette-case?' he gasped.

'That's what I said. n.o.body's going to make me believe that there are two such cigarette-cases in the world, both belonging to b.u.t.terworths who happen to have the same initials!

There is a limit to my imagination. No! Today was not the first time I have taken a cigarette out of the selfsame case, that that fellow is now flaunting!

And I'll tell you why he is flashing it. He put that case on the table to prove, by suggestion, in case there should be any doubt, that his name is b.u.t.terworth. Frank b.u.t.terworth had that case at Lympne; I've played bridge with him, with the case lying on the table. It was a present from his father, he told me.'

Algy continued to stare.

'Have you finished giving me shocks? I mean, have you any more cards up your sleeve?'

he asked.

'Yes, I have; only one, but it's a bone-shaker. Just turn this over in your mind, and see if it suggests anything to you. Frank b.u.t.terworth is stationed at Teteghen - or I should say was. He went out on patrol yesterday morning - and went West. He was seen to go down over the German side of the Line, and land: 'How on earth do you know that?' Algy demanded.

'Because I made it my business to ring up the squadron and find out; that's where I went when I disappeared just before lunch.'

'Then what do you think - now?'

I'll tell you. I think that Frank b.u.t.terworth is either in a German prison hospital, or he's staring up at the sky through four feet of Flanders mud. What is this fellow doing with his cigarette-case? He has got it as a proof of his ident.i.ty, and I wouldn't mind betting that he has got letters addressed to b.u.t.terworth in his pocket!

'What is he doing here - miles away from Teteghen, where b.u.t.terworth wouldn't be known? It was a hundred to one against anyone down here knowing Frank b.u.t.terworth, but the odd chance has come off. What's his game eh? Work it out for yourself. I'll give you two guesses!'

'Do you think he's a spy?' said Algy thoughtfully.

'What else can I think? I don't want to appear to have a spy complex, but - well, that's what it looks like to me! I should say the fellow is a German-American. There are hundreds of them in America who speak English as well as we do. On the other hand, there is just a chance that he is a British agent up to some game!'

'Can't you ring up someone and find out?'

I might ring up Raymond, at Wing Headquarters - and be told to mind my own business! In any case, the fellow will have gone before our people do anything. We can't detain him on suspicion!'

'Then what are you going to do about it?'

I'm going to plant a trap,' said Biggles. 'If he's what he says he is he will come on this trip with me this afternoon; if he isn't, then he won't - at least, I can't imagine him shooting down a Hun machine if he's a Hun himself!

'What is he doing here, at Maranique? Obviously, he is here to pick up all the information he can. Having got it, he'll try to get back to where he came from. On the table in the map-room I've put a map; it shows the aerodromes of as many squadrons as I can think of- but they are not in the right places.

I want you to go back to the mess and suggest to b.u.t.terworth that it might be a good thing if he walked along to the map-room and ascertained the exact position of Maranique, in case he loses us this afternoon. Show him the room, and then leave him there.

'He'll see the map, and I imagine he will try to get away with it, because it would look like a first-cla.s.s prize to take to Germany.

If he does pocket it, his next idea will be to get away as soon as he can. By the way, you can tell him that his machine is now O.K.; mention it casually when you leave him in the map-room. If he's on the level, he'll go back to the mess; if he isn't, he'll go up to the sheds and take off.'

'But what about you?' Algy asked. 'He'll be certain to wonder where you are, and what you are doing. What shall I tell him?'

'Tell him I've had an urgent call from an archie battery, and I may be late back. Suggest to him that our proposed trip might have to be postponed for a little while. As a matter of fact, I shall be in the air, high up, watching the aerodrome.

'You will watch him, and if he makes a break for it, run out and wave a towel in front of your room, or wherever you happen to be: That will tell me that he has left the ground.

He will probably be surprised to find me upstairs. I shall suggest to him by certain methods that I want him to come back with me. If he doesn't -' Biggles shrugged his shoulders expressively.

'That's my idea, and we'll put it into action right away. Are you sure you've got it quite clear?' Absolutely.'

'Good! Then I'll get off!'

15.

OFF AND AWAY!.

Algy watched Biggles climb into his machine and take off, and then turned and walked thoughtfully towards the mess. b.u.t.terworth was still in conversation with Mahoney and several other officers of the squadron who were not on duty.

The man seemed so absolutely at home, so self-possessed and natural in his speech and movements, that a sudden doubt a.s.sailed Algy. Suppose Biggles had made a mistake?

Spy scares were common in every branch of the fighting services, he knew. That spies operated anywhere and everywhere could not be denied, and some of them with amazing effrontery.

Algy watched the suspected officer closely for some sign or slip that might betray him; but he watched in vain.

'Well, there's no point in wasting time,' he decided, and touched b.u.t.terworth on the arm.

Oh, b.u.t.terworth,' he said, 'I've a message for you from Bigglesworth. He's been sent off on a job - had to go and see an archie battery about something -and he may be late back; so this proposed show of ours may have to wait for a little while.

'He will probably be back not later than half-past three; but, in the meantime, he suggests that you have a look round the map-room, so that if you get separated from us during the show you'll know your way back - either here or to your own aerodrome.'

I see,' replied the other. 'That's not a bad idea! I think I'll follow his advice!'

He picked up his flying-coat, cap and goggles, and threw them carelessly over his arm.

Algy raised his eyebrows.

'You won't want those, will you?' he said.

I may as well take 'em along; I should only have to come back for them afterwards: replied b.u.t.terworth coolly. 'I don't think too much of the weather,' he went on, looking under his hand towards the horizon, where a dark indigo belt was swiftly rising.

'That looks to me like thunder coming up. If it starts coming across this way, I may push along home without waiting for Bigglesworth to come back. I don't want to get hung up here for the night, and we can postpone the show until another day if necessary!'

Algy's heart missed a beat, for it began to look as if Biggles was right.

Right-ho he said. 'You do just as you like. I'll show you the map-room!'

Together they walked across to the deal and corrugated iron building.

'Here we are!' he said, glancing at the map that had been purposely left lying on the table. 'I think I'll go back to the mess, if you don't mind. Let me know if I can help you.'

Right-ho! Thanks!'

And, by the way, you might like to know that your machine is O.K. now.'

'That's fine!'

Algy left the room, closing the door behind him, and pa.s.sed the window as if he was returning to the mess. But as soon as he was out of sight he doubled back to the rear of the building and quietly placed his eye to a small hole where a knot had fallen out of a board.

b.u.t.terworth was bending over the map on the table, studying it carefully. He made a note or calcu lation on the margin, folded the map, and then walked across to the window. For a moment or two he looked at the sky thoughtfully, and then, as if suddenly making up his mind, he put the map in his pocket, picked up his flying kit, and left the room.

From his place of concealment, Algy watched him walk straight up to the sheds and climb into his machine; a mechanic ran to the propeller, as if b.u.t.terworth had called him in a hurry. The engine started, and the machine began to taxi slowly into position for a take-off.