THE EXPLOITS OF JOHN McKEENE.

Auckland Star, Volume LV, Issue 248, 18 October 1924, Page 60 (Supplement)

THE EXPLOITS OF JOHN McKEENE.

By ROWLAND WALKER

CRIMINOLOGIST.

Author of "The Lost Expedition," "The Old Manor House," etc.

IV.—" SPIKE-BOOZLED." Jepaon, of the C.1.D., was greatly elated. Information, private information, had just reached him concerning the arch-criminal, Juke Slarlie. A great detective was Jepson, with a reputation for clever and inventive methods. Courageous, too, without a doubt—nobody could deny that. Years ago, single-handed in a Lfmchouse opium den, he had captured Black l'eter. That was the beginning of his rise to fame. Then there was the famous Mordenville ease to his credit. That alone needed weeks of skilful and ingenious stalking, with a swift, daring coup at the end of it. Yes, Jepson with brilliant, and keen as mustard—a first-rate eleuthhound, with original ideas. Big Ben boomed out the hour of midnight as the inspector returned to his private office in Great Scotland Yard. His first action was to ring for Boyd, his chief assistant, who had been awaiting his return. "Got him—like that, Boyd!" was hie greeting, as hie colleague came into the room with a bundle of papers in his hand. "Who?" asked his surprised assistant. "The Juke!" "Juke Marlie?" gasped Boyd, taken aback by the sudden information. "Yes; I shall lay my hands on him within twenty-four hours. It will be the biggest thing I have ever done." "An' lie's had a wonderful run," murmured Boyd, still too bewildered by the great news to talk much. "How did it happen? And where is he, Jepson ?" "Listen to thia, Boyd," said the chief, quietly closing the extra, sound-proof door, that not a whisper might pass .beyond the Avails, and settling into his revolving chair, and facing his companion. "I've been shaking the pagoda tree again, Boyd," Jepson began. "Which means corrupting someone, eh? Not a bad beginning," purred his companion. "If you care to call it that, yes, but the man was a snark —a regular informer. It cost mc five pounds, with the promise of another twenty if the capture comes off." "Well, you won't lose much, anyway. There's a cool thousand on the Juke's head. But can you rely on the information you've received?" "Yes, it's pretty sure. Twice before I've used this snark, and on each occasion he was speaking the truth. It's rather a low-down way of picking up information, 1 know. But in our profession, Boyd, we've got to pick up clues somehow, and occasionally we've got to pay for them." "An' a pretty risky game, too, for tho snark I mean." "'Xaetlj. Ouess this fellow's lite won't be worth five minutes' purchase, if the Juke gets wind of what he's told mc. But that's his look out; one oi the risks of his trade." "Well, go on. Chief!" said Boyd, eager for the news. And JcpBon hurriedly described how the Eiiark, a regular frequenter of tho Devil'e Kitchen in the "Dials," had shammed a drunken sleep on one of the benches in the den on the previous night, and had picked up the information from members of the Juke gang. Juke, it appears, had been hiding in Paris and Brussels during the past three months, where ho had managed, in his customary brilliant style, to pull off one or two lightning coups. Both places had got too hot for him, however, and believing Scotland Yard had given him up, he had resolved to try liia luck agnin on this side of the Channel. ■ As the porta of departure were being closely watched for him there were difficulties in tho way. Some novel expedient, therefore, had to bo adopted, and tho best brains m the Juke fraternity had been busy. The recent I'aris-Barritz railway disaster provided Urn opportunity. There had been three English victims. And, with the courtesy, inborn in tho French nation, the three coffins, wrapped in the Union Jack, we?e to be brought by special train to Calais, and thence across the Channel to Dorer, in charge of a French official. "This French official, of course," laughed Jepson, having told the story, "is none other than the infamous Juke himself." "And when does this event take placei" asked Boyd. "Tomorrow afternoon," replied Jepson. "The boat arrives at Dover about three. We will be there disguised. "Right!" exclaimed his assistant. "It will be a coup worthy Of John de Ville McKeene himself. You know, Jepson, he's beon after the Juke for weeks." "Well, we have beaten him this time. And I shan't be sorry. He made us look silly over that last affair, -, said the Chief. "You mean the affair of the Bareseo jewels?"' "Yes."' "An ingenius bit of work that, Jepson. Beaten by an amateur, we were." Next day, as the Channel boat "las de Calais.' , with her Hag half-masted, came slowly in and moored at the pierhead, two lynx-eyed men from the C.I.U. waited bareheaded amid the crowd. It was h solemn occasion, and with the utmost reverence, a French official, in captain's uniform, with a mourning band about his arm, headed the little procession across the gangway. Halting, he stood at the salute, while the three coffins were carried past him, and placed, two on the London train, and the third on to a motor-hearse, drawn up by the pier. In a few minutes the little ceremony was over. The boat train, piled with luggage, and loaded with passengers, left for London, The motor hearse, with two men seated beside the driver, swept along the pier, and out into the country. Never for a moment did Jepson and Boyd lose sight of the French official. Furtively they watched his every move. Ten minutes later they effected his arrest, quietly, iv a little room at the back of the Lord Warden Hotel. The Frenchman protested vehemently. This was an insult to his country, to the French flag, and to the sacred duty on which he had been sent. "It ces a mistake, messieurs, and it ees one for which you will pay dearly. There will be a sharp note to the French Ambassador in London, and the Quai d'Orsai will demand an immediate and full apology," declared the officer. "Tut, tut," replied Jepson. "We know your little game. You are Juke Marlie, the forger arid bank thief. We want you for more than a dozen crimee, and the prefect in Paris will, be the most

delighted man in France when he hears of your arrest." "Moi —Juke Marlie?" exclaimed the exasperated Frenchman. "Ma foi, what fools you Englceshmen are. lam Capitaine Jose d'Aubigny, of the French Navy. You will soon regret this insult to my uniform, messieurs." ! It was of no avail. An hour later the j two C.I.D. men left in a locked compart- | ment, en route for Charing Cross and ! Great Scotland Yard. J Much more exciting than this journey | to tho metropolis was the adventure | which befel the driver of the motor : hearse on the Dover-Canterbury road. ; Scarcely had they passed the little ■ village of Ewell,, just outside Dover, and ! reached a quiet, secluded sylvan spot, when one of the men sitting behind the driver suddenly whipped out a pistol. "Stop, Mr. Driver.'' Tho alarmed chauffeur, into whose eyes a sudden spasm of fear had leapt, instantly obeyed. "Don't shoot!" he cried. "Wh-what is it you want mc to do?" "This little, narrow turning to the left—quick, m'sieur." Starting up again, the driver, his hand shaking at the wheel, turned the vehicle into the lane. "Stop! Dismount!" came the next order. And the motor having been brought up with a jerk, the threatened driver, leaving the engine ticking over, stepped down, holding both his hands alcft, and staring with wide-open eyes at his two companions. "Try to escape, m'sieur, or make a nnise, and you're a dead man!" threatened one of the men, while the second man etepped round to the rear of the vehicle, and began to bang at the door. "It's locked, Pierre!" he cried. "Search that idiot for the key. The Juke's been in this box for two hours. He'll be suffocated." "Sacre bleu!" exclaimed the other man, and then, turning to the frightened driver, he demanded: "The key, m'sieur—where is it?" John de Ville SlcKeenc, for he it was who had been driving the hearse, lowered his hands to fumble in his pocket. But his opponent was auspicious. "Hole 'em up, sarel" he cried. "How do I know you haf not a pistol there? See, I vill search for the key." And while the second man was still battering at the panel door, his companion thrust his left hand into the driver's pocket. It was tho opportunity for which the super-sleuth had been waiting. Wresting the pistol from his enemy, ho brought it down with such a terrible blow upon his head that the man fell like an ox to the ground. The next instant he had leapt clear. Taking the second conspirator by surprise, ho ordered in quick, sharp tones: "Tenez, M'eieur Valence! Move and I fire!" "Tonnerre!" gasped the villain. "Who are you?" "My name," replied tho other, as he disarmed the bewildered man, and slipped a pair of steel bracelets over his wrists, "my name is not unknown to you. We met three nights ago in the Cabaret Julian, off the Boulevard St. Germain, where you arranged this little coup." "Ah, zen you are Pierre Lotifer, is it j not, m'sieur. But no, you are an impostor —you are—" The mystery man smiled. "I am le diable McKeene," he said. , McKeene stepped aside, and took another glimpse at the unconscious Jean Bariste. Then he mounted the driver's seat, and, opening out. prepared to start. "Wait!" cried Valence. "The Duke, he will die. He is caught, what you call it —rat in a trap. He must be released!" And the handcuffed man capered about like a maniac. "Stand aside, m'sieur! lam giving you a chance. It is more than you would have given mc. You must not delay tho Juke's funeral." "But where are you taking him, m'sieur?" "I am taking him to the gallows, sir! He has cheated them too long. Soon I shall be returning lor you. Au revoir. messieurs." And leaving Valence frantically yelling, and half beside himself with madness, McKeene, who had spent six weeks in planning and carrying out this little coup, slid away down the narrow lane. After ono or two turns he regained the London-Dover road, and within half an hour had landed the fuming, halfsuffocated, becoffined Juke into the hands of the Canterbury police. Immediately the wires between the cathedral city and Great Scotland Yard were busy. Jepson, still 'jonOdent of success, had just landed his man in London. It was the Chief Commissioner himself who met him, and in his face there was something which even Jepson did not like. "I've got him, sir," were Jepson's first words. "But he's befn a handful." "Yes, a handful of trouble for the lot of us. inspector!"' snapped the chief. "Trouble with the French Government for arresting an innocent naval captain. The French Ambassador willl be rampaging around in tlie morning. Better release your man .it once, and apologise. Get him a special car back to Dover, if he'll take it." "But the Juke, sir?' , queried Jepson, paling as ho gazed into the angry eyes of his chief. ''The Juke?' , fumed the commissioner. "He was in that first coflin, you fool! The Canterbury police are bringing him here now. You had better take this letter round to the, Adelphi—it's addressed to McKeene." "McKeene?" echoed Jepson, amazed. "Yes. It's a line asking him to call here in the morning. There's a thousand pounds due to him for the capture of Juke Marlie," said the chief. Then he I added: "You've been outwitted, Jepson ! —spike-boozled. in fact, and your repuI tation's in danger." I =====