THREADNEEDLE STREET.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 60, Issue 301, 27 September 1940, Page 7

THREADNEEDLE STREET.

By LESLIE BERESFORD.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTER

David Bpllew, elderly and immensely wealthy, witnesses a smash-and-grab raid- on a jeweller’s shop. This is smartly foiled by a shabbily-dressed young man with red hair. The thief, however, escapes, helped by a blonde girl at the wheel,of a car. By the time the police appear on the scene, the red-haired young man has gone quietly on his way, unnoticed, except by 15 el lew, who has followed him,. He insists that they have lunch togethei. He learns that the young man’s name is Christopher John Money. Bellow, without probing into his past, and satisfied with the exhibition of resource given in the raid, suggests that the other shall epter his employ, though without going into details. Money accepts, is given money to fit himself out, and is to be at the financier s house by the evening. CHAPTER 11. LEOPARD’S SPOTS. The crinkling noise made by the Bank of England notes in Money’s fingers seemed to remind him that the proper thing to do with them was to put them away into safety. He slipped them into a worn note-case which was empty sayie for a few cuttings of small advertisements from newspapers, representing the dust of high'hopes. “I’ll take back what 1 said about you; (Mr Bellow,” he remarked as he put away the note-case. T impugned your generosity,” he explained. “You’re as generous as you are confiding. After all, what’s to prevent me from walking out of here with this money, saying au revoir to you on the front doorstep, and vanishing into the •unknown, never to see you again?” ‘My judgment of men,” snapped the other, rather irritably, and proceeded to pay the bill. A few minutes later, as they passed out into the sunshine of the street, he held out his hand to Money. ‘‘Six o’clock then?” he questioned, but as if the answer was already known to him. “On the tick, Mr Bellew!” was Money’s answer, as they shook. And yet he was by no means certain. He watched the financier vanish in a "taxi. : , , No. Christopher John was not by any means certain. He was not to be deceived % a display of confidence, backed by a vulgar exhibition of generosity. He knew something about confidence tricksters. Eyen men of David Bellew’s standing played that game, though in a more dignified and legal form. As for the money in his pocket, it could always be returned by registered post, with the explanation that —on second thoughts—lie preferred the penury of personal freedom to the plenitude which came of giving wholetime service to the will of another. He was almost inclined to adopt that course, if only out of sheer independence of spirit, however little he had to keep that spirit alive. Indeed he had no means whatever, apart from a shilling or two. Otherwise he would not for one moment have listened to this David Bellew, nor indeed might he ever have met him, because he certainly would not have been maundering idly around the West End at this hour of the day, wondering what to do next, even whore to go. For, lacking the wherewithal to pay his way, an irate landlady had this very morning informed him that her door would be closed against him till something was forthcoming, and that meantime she was holding his few belongings in default. “It’s a question of money, so money shall settle it for me,” he thought, liis fingers fishing in the depths of an almost empty trouser pocket. “Heads, I become Man Friday. Tails and I stay on my own!” The coin came down head uppermost. “That means the leopard must change his spots !’'*-, he admitted with a cynical little laugh, and hailed a taxi.

It took him a good couple of hours before a part of David Bellew’s subsidy had gone in the provision of new clothes, some of which took to, his room by taxi, enabling him later in the day to give his landlady something to talk about."

At first she had greeted him frozen3y. But the circumstance that he had actually arrived in a taxi, with several brand new and fully-packed suit-cases, puzzled her. Later the sight of him, wearing new and. elegant clothes, to which, transformation was added her glimpse of a note-case which seemed to be overflowing, reduced her to fawning sycophancy. “Why, Mr Money, I always did say to my husband, I did, that yours must be a lucky name, and that’s why I never have worried, you about my bit •of rent —now, have I?” she leered up at him. “And seeing you’ve come into your fortune, I hope you’re not going to leave us?” A DETECTIVE INQUIRES, “Now, Mrs Bish,” he answered, “it will be a great relief to you, I’m sure, to let this room to someone else, who won’t keep you wondering if the week’s rent will be paid.” “That’s real unkind of you, Mr Money!” she cackled. “I never did worry over you paying—only this last few wegks——” “Well, well!” He took the receipted bill from her. “We won’t argue that, Airs Bish. Meantime, about my few belongings here. I’ve been * thx-ough them, and taken out any private papers. and one or two things I may want. The rest you and your husband can have—as a memento of me.” “Haven’t I always said to my husband that you’d a real generous nature. Mr Money! I do hope we’re not going to lose sight of you for good ? You’ll give us an address, I suppose? What about if any letter comes that ought to be forwarded to you?” He waved her shggestion aside.

‘‘There won’t be any ” he was sayinjg, when she interrupted him, clearly inspired by a sudden flash of memory. “Which reminds me, Mr Money,” She said in a shouting acid tone, “I

A Serial Story of Money, Adventure and Love.

(Copyright)

came near on forgetting all about it. There was a gentleman called to see you this morning. I told him that I’d been having trouble over you and the rent and I didn’t expect you back any more.”

“A gentleman to see me?” Money frowned, puzzled. “And a most important gentleman!” she nodded with an air of mystery, then leaned towards him, plucking confidentially at his coat-sleeve. “From Scotland Yard, he said lie was, Mr Money. Gave his name to be Patcliam, what they calls a detectiveinspector •’ ’ “Patcham? Here, and asking for me?”

Money was, for the briefest moment, completely taken aback, even a little startled. He was swift to recover selfcontrol, however, just frowning again and then looking puzzled. “That’s queer!” he mused, then asked: “Did the inspector say why he wanted me?”

“Not in the way. of speaking, Mr Money. But he was most particular as to how he needed a word with you, and couldn’t I really say where you’d gone, so he could get in touch with you. He did say he’d give me another look in later—about .eVening-time—in case you did happen to have showed up. So, if .you could give me an address where- —” “No need for me to do that, Mrs Bish. Now you’ve told me that the inspector’s been here after me, it s a simple matter for me to get in touch with him, should I wish.” He felt her little beady eyes boring into the mask of his smiling face, suspicious and full of cunning as she was. Her words proved this, almost making him laugh. “As I said to my husband, it surely couldn’t be that a gentleman like you could be mixed up in what was against the law, such as mostly brings the police asking for people around these parts. All the same, Mr Money, if it do chance to he that way, and you don’t want the inspector to, know I’ve seen you again *•” “It isn’t that way, as you call it, Mrs Bish!” he interrupted her coldly, “but surely he must have given you some idea as to what he was after?” “No, he didn’t. No more, that is to say, than asking questions as to what you was doing, about how long you’d been here, and whether you had many friends come to see you, especially ladyfriends. Well, of course, my husband and me—we told him that, so far as we knew, you weren’t one for the ladies at all ”

“And quite right too, Mrs Bish. Where there’s a woman there’s always trouble,-so I’ve found. Anyhow, thanks for telling me about the Inspector’s call. As 1 said, if I feel like it, I can always get in douch with him.” A MILLIONAIRE’S ROW.

A moment later his waiting taxi was speeding away from those drab lodgings and that hawk-like, inquisitive old woman. They represented a phase of his life which caused him a certain cynical amusement, yet on which he had no wish to look back. But he was less amused by the fact that Inspector Patcham had somehow trailed him to that address. He could not quite understand how that had come about, though lie had a suspicion of the reason for the Inspector’s activity. It was not a matter lying with any heaviness on his conscience. All the same, just at this particular moment and in view of his promised association with David Bellew, he was not,anxious to find himself cumbered by the blundering attentions of such a man as Patcham. Fortunately, he told himself, Patcham would not conceive it possible that he could be raised to such dizzy heights as the Bellew peak. Patcham, a stickler for routine detail, was not gifted with so much Money, with a sense of safety, had no intention whatever of enlightening the Inspector. Meantime, the taxi had been speeding him to his destination in the neighbourhood of Hyde Park, one of the most exclusive residential colonies in Mayfair. It was precisely the locality in which a man like Bellew might he expected to have a residence. He had others, of course, as Money knew. A countryestate. A house hy the sea. And there was his famous Chateau d’Orient on the Riviera. All elegant decor supporting the life of this financial wizard, who—next to the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street herself—was pictured in the public mind as representing the power of wealth.

His was a history like that of many a man who has controlled millions. From the humble position of an ordinary bank-clerk, David Bellew was said to have reached gradually but forcefully upwards, right into that exalted company of financiers whose decisions ruled great undertakings and made the tape machines chatter. And to this, as a result of to-day’s happening in Regent Street, Money was finding himself about to be introduced. The toy of a millionaire’s whim, was the impression he had gained of the part allotted to him by Bellow. “It will be intriguing to find out what does really lie behind this Man Friday business of his!” he was musing as the taxi-driver stopped outside the Bellew mansion.

Money was not only well on time, but even a little before it, and his arrival was clearly arranged for. “Mr Bellew is not yet back from the City, sir,” the butler greeted him, “but he told us you were coming and said you were to make yourself at home till he returned. Perhaps you will join Miss Bellew in here?” So there was a Miss Bellew? Money hadn’t till now given a moment’s thought beyond David Bellew himself, although it was common-sense to suppose he must have some family around him. Money had never heard or read of any Mrs Bellew. It struck him as most probably the lady would prove lo be a sister, running his house for him. However when the butler opened the

door, giving a glimpse of a roomy lounge furnished in the most modern style, he realised at once that he must lie mistaken. The young girl speaking on a telephone was no sister of Bellew. She was as certainly, and even startlingly lovely.

He heard her sav—“Got. some new man coming, in place of our poor dear Hilary. Soon as one goes you know, another pops up. Amusing, isn’t it? Tell you what our latest is like when wo meet——” The butler closed the door from the inside and ho heard no more.

“Verity Rellew,” she introduced herself, as she greeted him. “And your name’s Money? "Well, if you happened to hear what I said just now— *—” “Discretion, Miss Bellow, may he the better part of hearing, as well as of valour,” Money hinted with a challenging politenss which caused her to open thos enarrowed eyes of hers, and to study him interestedly. “Quite a philosopher!” she murmured, then said: “If discretion’s one of your virtues, we may get on well enough together. I suppose my parent has told you exactly what’s behind your position with him here?” (To be continued).