Читать книгу Biggles and the Noble Lord - W E Johns - Страница 4

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‘Just a minute before we start,’ requested Ginger. ‘Is there any reason to suppose this has anything to do with aviation?’

‘None at all, as far as I’m aware, although of course flying may came, into the picture,’ returned Biggles.

‘Then what’s it got to do with us?’

‘Nothing, really. I imagine it’s a case of getting all hands to the pumps. We’ve nothing on at the moment. Presumably someone thought we might as well make ourselves useful by operating independently of the regular Force.’

‘Why are you so sure this villain has got a secret dump?’

‘I’m not sure. That’s merely a theory. What else can he do with all the stuff he’s pinched except hoard it? That’s what I mean by making a dump. You can’t sell gold bricks just anywhere; and you can’t take a hundred thousand pounds in notes to a bank without the manager raising his eyebrows and wanted to know where the boodle came from. He knows better than anyone that honest men don’t carry that sort of money around in suitcases.’

‘Okay. So let’s say there’s a dump,’ conceded Ginger. ‘Is there any reason to think it’s in this country?’

‘No, apart from the fact that a crook would find it difficult to get the stuff abroad. There’s too much of it. Gold is heavy stuff to lug about. One bar would be about as much as you or I could carry.’

‘Here, hold hard chaps,’ protested Bertie. ‘Do you mind if I push a word in edgeways? I may have a clue. Any old how, I can tell you something about this wise guy.’

‘Good. Let’s have it,’ requested Biggles.

‘He’s a collector.’

‘We already know that,’ Biggles pointed out sarcastically.

‘I’m not thinking of the stuff you have in mind. I mean a genuine collector. A chap who goes in for antiques and objects of art for no other reason than because he likes the look of ’em—if you follow me.’

‘What gives you that idea?’

‘You remember when Lady Loxton’s jewels were nicked from her place in Sussex, we were asked to keep an eye open in case the bloke who snatched them had ideas of flying them abroad in a private aircraft.’

‘What about it?’

‘You said at the time you thought this was the work of the same big-time crook.’

‘I remember. So what?’

‘When I was going through the list of missing goods with Inspector Gaskin in his office there was one item that struck me as a bit odd ... out of step with the rest, if you see what I mean. It wasn’t a piece of jewellery. It was a vase—well, a sort of vase.’

‘A vase?’

‘Actually a hand-painted French porcelain cake stand, described as a party of cupids holding up a plate. Why did the crook bother about a thing like that unless he took a fancy to it? It caught his eye and he couldn’t resist it.’

‘I suppose it was valuable.’

‘It was, but not all that valuable compared with the jewels. Anyway, that’s why I think he’s a collector. I’d make a little bet that if you could see inside his house, this item wouldn’t be the only piece of porcelain on the shelves.’

‘We first have the little problem of finding the house before we can see what’s in it,’ Biggles said dryly. ‘Still, full marks, Bertie. It’s worth remembering. We might get a line on him by checking the London sale rooms to watch who buys this sort of stuff.’

‘Matter of fact, old boy. Gaskin told me he did watch the auction rooms for a time to see if this particular piece of pottery did appear; but the last time I spoke to him it hadn’t shown up. So it looks as if the thief must have kept it. That’s what makes me think he may be a collector.’

‘I take your point,’ Biggles said. ‘Anyone else any ideas?’

Algy spoke. ‘I’d say most of these robberies were inside jobs, or how would the crook know where the stuff was, and in the case of the gold and notes when it was going to be moved and where it was being delivered? He must have known the time and the route the delivery van was taking, or how could he have been there exactly at the right moment to intercept it? How would he know that a large sum of money was about to be delivered, and where, unless someone on the inside, a crooked employee, gave him the wink? Don’t ask me to believe that he’s clever enough to do this by guesswork.’

Biggles answered. ‘You may be sure the police haven’t overlooked that; but what can they do about it? How are you going to find the man who supplies the necessary information? It’s not much use questioning the staff. No one is likely to admit he is the culprit. We know this sort of thing does go on. The bribe has only got to be big enough to turn some men crooked. The only thing the police can do is watch a suspect to see if he’s suddenly spending more money than he earns. Even if that happens it only half answers the question. You can’t prove anything. The suspect can say he won the money gambling. No, we shan’t find the answer that way. To stop the rot we’ve got to catch the big man at the top, not the small fish who work for him.’

Ginger came in. ‘How about setting a trap?’

‘What sort of trap?’

‘Send out a dummy car with an imaginary load of money on board, on the lines of the “Q ships” they used in the war to trap enemy submarines. You remember they were harmless-looking merchant ships, but they bristled with concealed guns. When a U-boat popped up off went the guns and down went the sub.’

‘How do you think that could be made to work in our case?’ inquired Biggles.

‘I was thinking of the way Lady Charlington’s jewels were lifted from her chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce on the way to Scotland. The car stopped only once on the way, at an hotel. Her Ladyship went in to have some lunch, leaving her jewel case under the seat. The chauffeur took the opportunity to slip into the gent’s toilet. He was away less than two minutes, yet when he came back the jewels had disappeared.’

‘The chauffeur must have been in on that job,’ declared Algy.

‘You can’t say that,’ disputed Biggles. ‘He had been driving his boss, at home and abroad, for thirty years, during which time he would have had scores of opportunities to pinch the jewels. He’s still in Her Ladyship’s employment and has never shown a sign of making any profit out of the theft. He blamed himself for what had happened and has never been the same man since. I’ll admit the crooks must have known the day Her Ladyship was going to travel, and where she was going, so they were able to follow in another car to wait for their chance. They knew she would have to stop somewhere for lunch on such a long run. They could have got the information from the gossip column of a society newspaper or magazine. Of course, the chauffeurs of wealthy people are always being approached by crooks to play in with them. That’s a well-known fact. But most of them have more sense than to fall for that racket, although it must be a big temptation. They know only too well that if anything is missing they’ll be suspect. I once had a talk with one of these chaps. He told me the crooks were always at him. Never left him alone. He’d been offered as much as a thousand pounds to disappear for a couple of minutes.’

‘In the case we’re talking about the crooks must have known where the car was going to stop,’ urged Ginger.

‘That to some extent was Lady Charlington’s own fault, as she was prepared to admit. She always stopped for lunch at the same hotel whenever she was on her way to Scotland to join her husband. Anyway, it would only have been necessary for the crooks to know the day she was going to travel for them to follow in another car.’

‘How would they know she was taking her jewels with her?’

‘There was going to be a big house party, so naturally she’d want her jewels with her.’

‘Let’s get back to the point,’ Ginger said. ‘Why shouldn’t we organize something of the sort? All we need is a Rolls. I could play the part of some foreign princess over here for a holiday. Bertie could be my chauffeur. You could let it be known to the Press that I was going somewhere on a certain day taking my famous jewels with me. All you have to do then is follow us in another car. The car stops somewhere en route for lunch. The princess goes in. That’s me. Bertie goes to have a drink at the bar. The crook makes his snatch. You grab him. It’s as easy as that.’

Biggles smiled broadly. ‘I see you’ve got it all worked out. Pretty good. But there’s one thing wrong. If it worked I should find myself with some small-time crook. The man I want is the top man, the crafty type we believe to be organizing these raids.’

Ginger had the answer ready. ‘Very well. Don’t grab him. Let him get away with it. You follow him to see where he goes. He should lead you to the man you want.’

Biggles gave the proposal some thought. ‘As a plan it strikes me as a pretty big pond to angle in for one particular fish,’ he remarked. ‘Still for want of anything more substantial we could try it. There’s just a chance that we might get a bite. If we hooked nothing we’d be no worse off than we are now. It’s no use waiting for the fish we’re after to give itself up. It would be an expensive operation to put on the expense account, but the Air Commodore said I could try anything. He’ll probably think I’m out of my mind—and he could be right.’

‘What am I supposed to be doing while the rest of you gallivant about in Rolls-Royces and lush hotels?’ inquired Algy.

‘I don’t see why we shouldn’t try both schemes,’ Biggles answered. ‘You could check up for someone with money who collects antique French porcelain. The people who deal in that sort of stuff should know. Try the leading auctioneers, watch the sale rooms, and so on. You might strike a lead worth following. If we all fail there will be no harm done. Let’s see about getting organized.’