‘Major Bigglesworth!’
Biggles jumped as if he had been shot; the words seemed to come from the air, and the voice that uttered them seemed strangely familiar.
‘Hullo yes, who’s that?’ he answered sharply, grabbing Ginger by the arm and hurrying to the side of the clearing ready for instant flight.
‘It’s all right, sir, it’s me, Smyth.’ There was a movement in the branches overhead, and they stared upwards. ‘Just a minute, sir, I’m coming down,’ went on Smyth, and presently he appeared, brushing dead twigs and pine needles from his face and hair.
‘What in the name of heaven has happened?’ asked Biggles quickly. ‘Where’s the machine—and where is Mr Lacey?’
‘He’s gone, sir—they’ve both gone.’
‘Gone! Where?’
‘I’ll tell you all about it, but we’d better not stay here; it isn’t safe. Some
