It was the Auster. Algy gasped his relief.
But what was it doing? It was flying level at a height of not less than five
hundred feet, which made it instantly apparent that Biggles had no intention of
landing. From that height he couldn’t land. He had not left himself enough room
to get in. Algy took a chance and ran into the open, waving both arms. The
Auster went on, leaving him staring at it helplessly.
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