Biggles Flies Again, page 14
what he understood to be the normal method of dealing with suspected persons at policestations. He returned to the constable on duty.
"What did you say Inspector Myhew said?" he asked. "Inspector who?"
"Myhew."
The constable looked puzzled. "Never heard of him," he said, shaking his head. "Are you waiting here to see someone?"
Biggles nearly choked. "Good heavens, man, we've just been arrested for stealing Lady Nunheaton's pearls," he snarled, suddenly realising that something was wrong. "You'd better take us to the inspector in charge, and lose no time about it." Within two minutes Biggles was telling his story to a uniformed inspector in a stiffly furnished office. When he had finished, the inspector pressed a bell, gave some orders in a rapid undertone to the men who answered it, and then returned to the two airmen.
"Well," he said, "it looks to me as if you've been done, and very cleverly. They were smart lads that brought you here. The French police have had a net round Paris for the last week, ever since the pearls were stolen, a net that an ant couldn't get through—so they said. And we've been watching this end. Yet, in spite of that, the thieves managed to get the goods on that aeroplane. Rather than risk having them turned up at Northolt, they dropped them at a pre-arranged spot and had another machine standing by to pick them up. By a million-to-one chance you butted in and lifted the pot, which was a thing they couldn't foresee. The fellows in the other plane took the only course open to them, and it came off. They had to gamble you were going to land at Northolt; in fact, they were pretty sure of it after they had watched you flying towards London. Then they went on, got in ahead of you, put their story over the customs-officer—who can't be blamed, because he knows we've been on the lookout—and then waited for you. It was a cool piece of work to arrest you, though; yet they had to do something. Having got the goods back they had to get rid of you, and that wasn't so easy. If they had made one slip you might have spotted something was wrong and started asking awkward questions. They had to come to London, anyway, so they had the nerve to drop you here, the easiest place to get rid of you. Well, it's tough luck for you two. I suppose you know the insurance people have offered two thousand pounds re-, ward for the return of the necklace?" concluded the officer.'
Biggles started. "How much?" he ejaculated. "Say' that again."
"Two thousand pounds."
"Does that still hold good?"
"Of course."
Biggles put his hand into his trousers-pocket and drew out a long double string of pearls that gleamed whitely in the artificial light. "That's fine," he said. "Where do we collect the cash?"
' For a moment the inspector stared unbelievingly at the jewels; then he turned a suspicious eye on the pilot. "What's the idea?" he said coldly. "What are you trying to put across me?"
"I've told you the plain, sober truth, and presently I'll prove it, if you like," answered Biggles simply. "When those jewels were stolen I was in Cairo, and by my logbook and carnets I can account for every minute of my time till I booked out from Le Bourget, Paris. You'll find my wheel-tracks on the sand at Dungeness. The only thing I omitted from my story was that when we were in the air I stepped back into the cabin to look at what I had picked up. My mechanic will confirm that; he was there. I guessed that something was wrong, particularly as that single-engine plane followed us, so I did up the parcel again, but I kept the pearls in my pocket. The crooks took me in completely, I admit, but they made a bigger mistake. When they saw the red-leather case it did not occur to them for one moment that it might have been opened in the air. They knew I hadn't opened it on the ground, either at Dungeness or at Northolt, because they were watching me all the time. So they took it for granted that the beads were still inside. They weren't, and they've either kicked themselves to death by now or else they are hanging about outside waiting for us to come out."
The inspector started. "Gosh! You may be right," he said, making for the door.
"And we'd better see about putting our machine to bed," observed Biggles to Algy. " Smyth will be getting anxious. And then we'll have a rest ourselves; we've earned one, I think."
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Captain W E Johns, Biggles Flies Again
