WAS IT MONTELLI?

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 62, Issue 9, 22 October 1941, Page 7

WAS IT MONTELLI?

V>y LESLIE CARGILL.

(Copyright).

CHAPTER XVIII

GANGSTER TAKES HIS LEAVE.

Manuel was pained to think he had been so much in agreement with his natural enemies. Simultaneously h© was reminded of his own insecurity. Apparently he /knew all about the watch being kept on the house and had made an entrance by entirely unor- v thodox methods to avoid being seen. There was something of disappointment, too, at having come on a wild goose chase. According to his story, Jerry’s public appearance had been responsible for the visit, Manuel having caught sight of him by accident and devoted considerable time to following up the trail. On the whole he bore it very well, Some men might have bitterly resented wasting time on a mirage. Not so Dago Manuel, who had no hesitation in acquitting Jerry of any ill intent. His determination to avoid future errors was gratifying, although there was no doubt that it would cramp his style to a large extent if he had carefully to examine an intended victim to make sure it was the right man. “Maybe I’ll be gunning yer another day, imagining I’ve got the drop oil Tony,” he said. We better have a password. Just yell out Carrickm’huilish an’ I’ll know it’s you.” Jerry objected vigorously. For one thing he couldn’t pronounce it properly even if IT5’ recollected the w r ord in a moment of peril. Manuel thought it a crying shame. “Me old man came from there,” he remarked. “’Tis the jJlace of my boyhood. The family was well liked and respected by all.”

“At Carrickmahoo ——whatever it is called? Surely that is in Ireland?” “Right behind the eight ball.” “Er, quite so. The—er—eight ball.” “One of the real bhoys, that’s me. Dago Manuel’s a trade name. Yer have to be a Eyetalian or a Spanyard to get over big in the rackets. ’Tis all right for an Irisher in the police, but not on the other side. Keep that under your brown derby. I wouldn’t tell anyone I didn’t trust.”

“Many thanks for the compliment, and the confidence.” “Yer all right, buddy. Now all yer got to do is to memorise Carrickm’huilish and you’ll be sittin’ pretty with my pals.”

“Suppose you write it down for me,” Jerry hazarded.

Dago Manuel froze. “What yer driving at?” he snarled. “Think I can’t ■write?” »

Elise poured oil on troubled waters. “Leave this to me,” she invited. “I’m sure. Mr Manuel has exceptional literary talent*.” “That's got me, lady,” Dago responded. “Yer got me taped. I can’t signmy own name, so It ain't no good asking me how to spell it. But me father was clerk to the District Council.” After which astonishing series of confessions the gangster took his leave, departing by the same secretive way he had come, and without the ministrations of Mintey, although it is doubtful if that faithful survitor would have seen him politely to the roof trapdoor, or even to the more conventional place of exit, had it been favoured. He still rankled under a sense of injustice. The best of batmen do not take kindly to being trussed up and then called upon to serve the aggressor with liquid refreshment. “H’a very h’objectionable person, sir,” he complained. “Makes your soul revolt from the criminal undertakings previously hankered after, eh?”

“No, Mr Clitheroe. H’it does not. Mr Raffles would never ’ave be’aved with such a lack h'of consideration.’' “I'm very glqd he’s gone, myself.” Jerry breathed dismally. Elise refilled her glass. “Personally I found him most charming,” she murmured.. “So unusual and refreshing. At any rate nobody could accuse you of being a snob, darling.” “What on earth are you burbling about?”•

“You acquaintances, Jerry dear. So unexpected. Marriage with you is going to be like living among a collection of Jack-in-the-boxes—or should it be Jacks-in-the-box? Hullo, there’s somebody else clamouring at the drawbridge.”

“That’ll be Superintendent Clewthers, for a fiver. Whenever the front bell rings nowadays I immediately anticipate a police raid.” It certainly was the superintendent, and he was in a decidedly bad temper. AN AUTOMATIC PISTOL. “Who’s been here?” demanded Superintendent Clewthers, sniffing the air like an agitated bloodhound. Jerry was inclined to side-step the matter until the third glass and other signs of a recent visitor were pointed out. “No need to keep it dark,” Elise observed. “Tony Montelli?” snapped Clewthers. “Nobody so desirable. Only the other nuisance—Dago Manuel.” “What’s that? How did he get past the man on duty outside? Why didn’t you hold him?” “One question at a time, please! First of all I haven’t any idea how he got in. Secondly there was the strong argument of an automatic pistol against any attempt to detain the gentleman against his wishes. Mintey spent most of his time tied up in a chair, so he wasn’t much value as a reinforcement.” “Violence, eh?” 1 “Lashings of it. I gathered that the original intention was to riddle me with bullets. After a brisk exchange of pleasantries, however, we became the best of friends.” “Such a fascinating man,” Elise interposed. “So completely masculine.” “You keep out of this,” Clewthers

warned. “I've got all my work cut out without more women in the case. One is more than enough.” “How ungallant, inspector.”

“Superintendent, ma’am. And while I’m about it I’d like to know where you come in, anyhow?’ “Merely by being engaged to Mr Clitheroe. Apparently I’ve cultivated a sort of habit of dropping in at psychological moments —say ten minutes before you arrive on the scene.”

Clewthers rubbed his chin until the bristles crackled. “I asked for that,” he said ruefully. “Hadn’t you better tell me; everything you do know?” Elise complied without reservations, even retailing the full history of the emeralds so far as Jerry had gone with the story.

Clewthers was reproachful but keenly interested. “I ought to lock your young man up as an accessory,” he exclaimed. “He ought to have passed the stolen property on to me. Hang it, to think that it was in his pocket all the time!’

“Would you have believed me if I’d told you how I came by the things?” Jerry asked. “That’s got nothing to do with it. An innocent man’s got nothing to fear from the police.”

“Not if he’s got incriminating evidence on his person?”

“Well, it might have been difficult to explain. However, I’m glad to be in possession of the facts. They help get the proper perspective. But if these things ever come out in a court of law we’re all going to look dashed foolish. “Except Tony Montelli,” Elise said sweetly. “Bah! 'You women are all alike, sympathetic when theres a handsome face.”

“I think he’s as ugly as sin,” Elise murmured, grimacing at Jerry.

The superintendent chuckled at the implication. Good humour was restored all round, especially as the astute officer was already beginning to think of an alteration in the plan of campaign. As he described it, when asking for co-operation a little later, there was immediate approval. Clitheroe’s appearances in his usual haunts had resulted in driving Montelli underground, for he probably found it impossible to take advantage of the resemblance in such circumstances. If, however, Jerry was to disappear from the scene he might come out of retirement and again try and Pf ss himself off as his double.

“A foregone conclusion,” Clewthers admitted, “but worth trying. Suppose you go into the country for a few weeks and see what happens?” “Belcombe will suit me nicely if that is agreeable.” “Excellent! I’ll get in touch with the local police and tell them to keep an eye on you.” “Is that still necessary?” for your own safety. Don’t forget Manuel.”

“Any more instructions?” “No, that about covers things.”" “You've forgotten to ask for a wire—‘Arrived safely, love to all/ and picture postcards daily.” (To be Continued.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or crivato property . ,