Biggles Fails To Return Part 10

'But certainly.'

Ginger turned an amazed face to Bertie. 'Now, what do you make of that?'

'Looks as though fresh writing has been put on the wal since we were there.' Bertie turned to Jeanette.

'This girl in the blue shawl-have you seen her before?'

'I am so far away I do not know, but I think no.'

'Was there a mark after the writing-a triangle?'

'I see no triangles.'

'And the man who ran up the steps-what did he look like?'

'Ah, I see him closer.' Jeanette gave a brief description.

'Algy, by thunder!' cried Ginger. 'He must have been on the spot, probably waiting for us, and actual y saw the girl writing. I wonder where he went?'

Jeanette smiled. 'He has gone, monsieur, monsieur, to Castil on.' to Castil on.'

'You spoke to him?'

' Non Non-I do not speak with strange men.'

'Then how do you know where he went?'

'I told you he speaks to Monsieur Budette, he who watches always the little boat that belongs once to his English milord. I, too, speak with Monsieur Budette. He has a joke the most comical. A man, he says, has asked him the way to Castil on.'

'That's the name you said was written on the wal .'

'Of course.'

'What is this word, Castil on?'

'Castil on is a vil age, monsieur. monsieur. That is what is so drol .' Jeanette smiled again. That is what is so drol .' Jeanette smiled again.

'What's funny about it?'

'No one is there, except cats, and, it is said, the ghosts.'

'Jeanette, please be serious,' pleaded Ginger.

'This is very important.'

'Pardon, monsieur monsieur, but I speak the truth.'

'Tel me about Castil on.'

'It is a vil age deserted, monsieur monsieur, in the mountains behind Mentone, fifteen kilometres, perhaps, from Monaco. I walk there once, with my brother Henri, for a pique-nique pique-nique*3. It sits in a col col- how you say? A gorge of the most steep, like a cut in the mountains. It is, to look at, like a heap of grey bones. You see, monsieur monsieur, one day long ago, when my father is a young man, there is an earthquake, and many of the houses fal down. The people are so afraid they run, they run al the time; they do not stop running until they come to Mentone. They do not go back-never. So the vil age it remains as it was left.

Only the cats stay, many cats, which makes it the more desolate. That is why Monsieur Budette thinks it is a great joke for a man to go there.'

'Thank you, Jeanette.' Ginger looked at Bertie.

'Now we're getting somewhere. If the message is to be believed, someone is in need of help at this quaint vil age. It might be Biggles.'

'But who is this girl in the blue shawl?'

'How do I know? We'l find out. Let's get along.

Algy is already on the way.'

'But you're in no case to go climbing about mountains.'

'There must be a path. Is there a path, Jeanette?'

'Yes, monsieur monsieur.'

Bertie broke in. 'But you're not fit enough-'

'I'm feeling fine,' declared Ginger. 'A bit weak, that's al . I can't lie here with al this going on.'

'What about Henri?'

'We shal have to do something about that, too.'

'Your soup wil be cold, messieurs messieurs,' reminded Jeanette.

'Al right. We'l eat it and talk things over. You'd better go back to your mother, Jeanette.'

'If you say, monsieur. monsieur. ' Jeanette went out. ' Jeanette went out.

'Now let's try to fix a definite plan,' went on Ginger.

'What do you suggest?'

'We've got two angles to cover. First, someone ought to fol ow Algy to Castil on, to make contact with him and let him know what has happened here, and to find out what he knows. Two, someone wil have to go to Peil e to rescue Henri.'

'That sounds a tal order.'

'We can't just abandon him.'

'No, by Jove, that's right enough,' agreed Bertie.

'I'l tel you what,' suggested Ginger. 'You push off right away to Castil on and try to get hold of Algy- a.s.suming he's there. Tel him about Henri, and say I've gone to Peil e in the hope of getting him out.

When I've got him I'l join you at Castil on. If for any reason you have to leave the place, come back to the Quai de Plaisance. We'd better keep that the permanent rendezvous.'

'That's al right, but do you think you can manage to get to Peil e?'

'I'm jol y wel going to try it. After al , Henri is Jeanette's brother.'

Bertie finished his soup and put his eyegla.s.s in his pocket. 'And you're the bold Sir Galahad? Wel , don't let this damsel-in-distress stuff-'

'What are you talking about?' broke in Ginger angrily. 'I should have gone after Henri, anyway.'

'Of course-of course-absolutely, old boy.'

Bertie rose and picked up his guitar. 'Wel , if you're satisfied with the arrangement I'l toddle along and visit the cats of Castil on. I'l give you one tip. You can trust Francois Budette. If things get real y hot, go to him for advice. Tel him who you are, and al that sort of thing. If for any reason I don't show up again, go to him. At a pinch I may be able to get a message through to him.'

'Good enough,' agreed Ginger.

Bertie put what was left of the bread in his pocket and went to the door. 'Don't let those dark eyes of young Jeanette take you too far off your course-if you get my meaning,' he advised.

'You go to-Castil on,' snarled Ginger.

Bertie chuckled and departed on his mission.

As soon as he had gone Ginger got out of bed and started to dress. His leg was stiff, and he had a moment of giddiness that made him clutch the bedpost; but the spasm soon pa.s.sed, and apart from a feeling of la.s.situde, which he put down to loss of blood, he felt fairly normal. When Jeanette came up a few minutes later to col ect the dishes she found him ful y dressed.

She uttered a cry of surprise. 'Why this you do, monsieur monsieur?' she scolded.

'Because mademoiselle mademoiselle, I have work to do,'

answered Ginger.

'But where are you going?'

'To Peil e, to see Henri. We can't leave him there.

'To Peil e, to see Henri. We can't leave him there.

Once the police get him to Nice it wil be more difficult to save him. I am going at once, hoping to be in Peil e before he leaves.'

'But where is Monsieur Bertie?'

'He has other work to do, in Castil on.'

'But you cannot do this, monsieur monsieur,' protested Jeanette.

'Why not?'

'Because, in the first place, you are wounded, and it is many kilometres to Peil e; and secondly because the police they look for you. You have no chance of getting out of the princ.i.p.ality.'

Keen as he was to go, Ginger perceived the truth of these arguments. 'Let us deal with these things one at a time,' he said. 'Is it possible to get a vehicle to take me-at least, up the hil as far as La Turbie?'

'Vehicle? What is this?'

'A taxi.'

'There are no taxis now in Monaco.'

'A horse and cart, then?'

'What few horses there are are weak from want of food. They are rarely seen out. By taking one you would draw attention to yourself. It might be possible to get a donkey.'

Ginger blinked. 'A donkey?'

'But yes. Many people here use donkeys to fetch the wood, the coal, to carry the fish and vegetables in the basket. My aunt has such a one.'

'Wil she sel it, or hire it to me?'

'I wil ask Mama to speak to her about it.'

'Would this donkey carry me, do you think?'

'Surely. The donkey is a good little beast, better than a horse on these mountain roads, which is why we use him. He is used to carrying people. I wil ask Mama of this.'

Jeanette cal ed her mother, who came in looking as though she had been crying. The matter was explained to her. The expedition, she opined, was fantastique fantastique, but she would ask about the donkey.

Ginger pul ed out a wad of notes that made her gasp. 'Take as much money as you think wil be necessary, madame madame, and say that if the expedition is successful I may be able to bring the donkey back, but this, of course, I cannot promise.'

At first Madame Ducoste refused to take any money, but Ginger pressed some on her and she departed on her errand.

'Now what can I do about myself so that the police wil not recognize me?' asked Ginger.

'We must make you into a Monegasque,' declared Jeanette, smiling. 'For clothes there is no trouble, for you may have those of Henri. They are old, but that is al the better. But your face is too white and your hair is too red. For your face I have the very thing-and perhaps for your hair. Wait.'

Jeanette went out and returned with a bottle and a smal jar. 'These were left here by our last English lady,' she explained. 'This oil in the bottle is for to make the skin brown, to prevent the burning when one bathes in the sun. The visitors here al use it to make them brown. Voila! monsieur Voila! monsieur.'

'What's that in the jar?'

'Mascara, monsieur. monsieur. Some girls use it to make their eyebrows black. For me that is not necessary. Some girls use it to make their eyebrows black. For me that is not necessary.

Perhaps it wil make your hair black. You may try while I fetch the clothes of Henri.'

With Henri's clothes, the sun-bronze oil, and the mascara, Ginger so altered his appearance that when he looked in the mirror it gave him a shock.

They were laughing about it when a clatter of hooves announced the arrival of madame madame with the donkey. with the donkey.

They went down to the door to see it, and found it already saddled, with panniers, attached to the saddle, on each side. Its name, Ginger learned, was Lucil e.

'If you are questioned, for what purpose are you going to Peil e?' asked madame madame shrewdly. 'It would be a good thing to know.' shrewdly. 'It would be a good thing to know.'

Ginger hadn't thought of that. 'What can I fetch?'

he asked.