The Missing Mannequin

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 276, 20 November 1926, Page 34

The Missing Mannequin

By KENNAWAY JAMES.

CHAPTER SMI. A Meeting of Three. It was not a pleasant expression which crossed the face of George Parsons when he learnt of Kennedy Betts' visit to his wife. Anger end astonishment, and even ferocity, could be seen in his eyes, which had for the moment lost the waggish glint which usually characterised them. "You say it's mc who's got us into a mess!" he exclaimed. ''It's nothing of the sort. It's your own fault, and nobody else's." "How do you make that out?' , asked his wife, adopting her most regal pose. "Please explain." George Parsons permitted himself to laujrh at her before he replied: "Don't try the 'Madame Rentoul , stuff on mc," he said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the highly polished oflge of her desk. They were large feet, and the worn boots which encased them were grey with dust. At other times Madame Rentoul would have ordered better behaviour from her husband, but this time, to his disappointment, she affected not to notice his manners. George continued: '\Xo, don't try it on mc. Now, you were asking why I said it was jour fault, and I'll give you the reason. You'd no right to have talked to him about the girl at all. As toon as you knew what he was after, you should have given him the push-off. See S" "But I couldn't help it,' , replied his wife, lie came to sue mc unawares, and he had said what he wanted to before I could stop him." "You shouldn't let yourself talk to strangers at a time like this," said George. "That's one of my mottoes, and it's a good one. He tried it on mc one night, but he didn't get any change out of George Parsons. I suppose you went all pale when he said it':' 1 "I don't think I did," f-aid Madame Rentoul untruthfully, "though I was surprised to iind he knew. 1 sent for Aubrey to get rid of him."' Again George Parsons laughed. ''Handsome Aubrey!" he sneered. "You might as well have sent for one of your j-oung ladies. You've pretty well turned Aubrey into a woman. However, it's done now. It's only what I might have expected to happen in a place where everybody's mind is on frills and things." "It's a place wTiich has provided you with a nice lot of money from time to time," said his wife. Her remark annoyed George. It was what he called a bit near the knuckle. In retaliation he drew out his pipe, and made as if to light it. His wife sprang towards him,' for George's pipes were fearsome affairs. "You can insult mc ana do lots of other things besides," she cried, "but you shall not smoke that abomination in my boudoir." Parsons replaced the pipe in his pocket. ' "The blinking place hasn't even got the elements of hospitality," he muttered. Then: ""Well talk about something else now. You remember that girl in the beer-coloured frock you had here once when I called. I've got a little job which would suit her. Can you spare her from your beauty chorus!" "What, another*?** exclaimed Madame' Rentoul. "Oh, George, you are asking too much. You've got Verity." "Never mind Verity," said Parsons grimly. "She's supposed to be dead, and she'd better be dead to you. See what I mean? She must be dead to you as well as to everybody else." "She's not dead to Kennedy Betts," said Madame Rentoul, catching her breath. "You can leave Kennedy Betts to mc," replied Parsons meaningly. "But for your own sake try to forget all. about ' Verity Lane." • Suddenly George Parsons seemed to , become compassionate. "Well, we'll leave it at that for the present," he said. "I won't worry you now about the other one. We'll have a chat about it at another time. I just wanted some really pretty girl to lure a certain young peer into our select circle. But it'll do later. There's just one other thing. I want twenty pounds." The reason for Georgelg compassion wa6 out. Like all his acte of mercy, hie present indulgence was staged in order to get money. His wife gave him the .twenty pounds and he went hie way rejoicing. That evening he wae a big man at the "Alderman" in Whitechapel, where he bought numerous drinke for Tom Merry and Tippy Ison. The former wae in hie most lugubrious mood, and his dull, dead-fish eyes looked upoL George in sorrow. "I wonder what all thie is about?" he inquired of Tippy leon. "There's always something behind it when George starts standing us drinks. I feel as if every glass I've had has been poisoned-" "It hasn't stopped you drinking 'em," said George, who always disregarded Merry's attempts to prove the motives of his philanthropy. "George has been round seeing his rich relations," put in Tippy Isou, "and he naturally wants to give us a treat. You oughter know better than suspect him of anything else. I'm surprised at you, Tom." The three men understood each other welL Merry and Tippy Ison acknowledged Parsons to be the leader of their gang and recognised him a 6 a man of hidden powers. His vengeance on any who thwarted him or who ia any way played him false wae swift and sure. Like other criminate before him, much of his power lay in hie knowledge of other people's activities. Such knowledge is cumulative. A blackmailer— and Pareons was this among other things—had but to get one member of the underworld into hie power to learn much about that particular man's associates, and by getting them in his power, to learn still more of others. George Pareons' method was not new. It wae eimply that he had perfected it. Strange it was tnat Parsons, nevertheless, contrived to be a pojmlar man. Thie wae due" to the fact that co far he had not broken faith with any man of hie set, whilet he had a droll manner which wae amusing even in adverse circumstances. On this occasion both Tom Merry and his colleague, Tippy Ison, knew that George Parsons had some scheme in his mind which would require their help. Neither was afraid of George Pareone knowing that they understood him so well- But their methods of dealing with George were different. Tom Merry always spoke hie mind in a lachrymose way which might almost have been taken as a form of humour, whilst Tippy Ison indulged in sarcasm so eubtle that George Parsons himself wae_ often in doubt ac to whether his. diminutive accomplice was being frank or not.

"Yee, Tom, you oughter to know better than imputate baee motives to such a man as George," continued Tippy, hk small, round fa.cc carrying all the appearance of seriousness. "You see, George has got a rich wife what he doesn't live with, but who hands him a bit of cash over when he wants it. Take it from mc, Tom Merry, that that is the most perfect form of marriage. • Even I wouldn't mind being married on terme like them, and you know I'm not a woman's man. I hate 'em. Now take the case of a woniaa I knew at, Bristol." Tippy's story of the woman he knew at Bristol had only once been heard by his two companions, and it had been so long that he had never been allowed to tell it again. On this occasion H was George Parsons who prevented its repetition. "You can just leave my domestic affairs out of it, Tom," lie* paid, "and your own goings on in Bristol as well. I want to talk about something else. I'm thinking of the night when Tom .Merry let that girl escape long enough to go to the Adelphi and tap a window." "There was no harm done.' , said Merry. '"I was there nigh as soon as she was, and had her back before she knew where she was. By gum, but she was as clever a bit of woman a= I've ever met." "If you'd mrt as many as I :)ave you might have *net some clever;-.-. 2si:w, that woman at Bristci "' Tippy Ison's words were ci' short again by George P.i'sms. "No Lain-, done?" he said, querying Tom Merry's words. "Listen to my and then you'll see whether there was any harm done. As you know, a bloke named Kennedy Betts lives iv that house where she tapped at the window Well, he saw her. You weren't quick enough, Tom. He knows she is alive. , ' Tom Merry and Tippy Ison regarded ra<-h other in amazement- -almost in fear. None spoke for a few minutes. Then Merry paid: "if that's tru<?. 1 feel like cutting mv throat." "It's true enough." said Parsons, "but d(n't you trouble about cutting your throat. I'll have that cut for you if you don't get us out of the nioss you've put us into with yo;;r gln?s of Dior in Yilliers Street." "It wasn't the glass of beer. George," put in Tippy Ison. "It was Alfs woman he wanted to see. That was the beginning of it. The car should never have boon near the Adelphi at all. It's no good blaming beer, as I've said afore." "Well, don't say it again." retorted George Parsons. ""Whatever the reason was, it was Tom Merry who let her go, and it's Tom Merry who's got to put it right—you and him." "And I thought you was in such a good humour—buying us drinks and what-not," said Merry gloomily. I never thought such a thing could have happened. Well have to do something. How did you find out that Kennedy Betts knows that young woman is alive?" "He's been up to Bond Street and told my wife," replied Parsons. "Dear mc, we're in for trouble if he's been telling women about it," said Tippy. "They can't hold their tongues about anything. It's a pity they was ever created. Look at all the trouble we're in now, and it's all through women. That young mannequin's a woman, and the shop where she worked was a woman's shop. She saw this bloke Betts through the window because of Alfs woman in Villiers Street, and now George's missus has got to hear of it. and she's a woman as well. It's awful." 'It'll be more awful still if something isn't done at once about Mr. Kennedy Betts," said George Parsons. "And what do you suggest we are to do with him?" asked Tom Merry. "I've got it all thought out," said Parsons. ,r Listen and I'll tell you just what we will do with Mr. Kennedy Betts." CHAPTER XVIII. George Parsons Gives Instructions. "So far as I can see," continued George Parsons, "there's nobody else but this Kennedy Betts who knows the girl's alive. The trouble is that he may talk. He's already told my wife and Aubrey Blade, though he hasn't said how he knows." "I can't see that it's as bad as you make out," said Tom Merry. "The body has been identified as hers', and if Betts tells the tale nobody will believe him. They can only get the body out and identify it again. What are you so afraid of?" "I'm always a bit afraid of things unknown," answered George. "If I only knew what Betts is up to, I shouldn't mind so much. I wonder if he means to go on being nosey till he finds out more? In any case, I don't intend for him to have the chance, and I want you to give mc a hand in getting him out of the way." "I knew he was wanting us to do something," said Torn Merry, half aloud to himself. "Quite right," said George. "I want you both to waylay him some night in the Adelphi and dot him one. I don't mean to finish him off, but give him one on the top which will keep him out of mischief for a time. Praps when he gets better he won't be so keen on poking his nose into other folks' affairs." "You're asking a lot this time, aren't you?" said Tippy Ison. "It's not a very safe job. It may be all right for a big chap like Tom Merry, but I'm not much good on a thing like that. Why not let Tom and Alf do it? Tom says* Betts is a full-sized 'un." "Xo, I'm not going to put it in Alfs hands," said Parsons dryly. "For one thing, he's too good a motor driver to lose, and for another Tom says he's got some woman in Villiers Street, and he might want to go and see her. Then Tom would go for a glass of beer, and meet a chap who owed him money, and Mr. Kennedy Betts would go home as if he was surrounded by angels. It's you and Tom for it." The two men knew better than to set themselves against their leader, and, after a little more argument, they began to discuss plans which would result in their enemy being put aside for a time. On the following day the inquest on Verity, which had been adjourned, was continued. The police, however, had failed to provide any further evidence, and the proceedings were more or less a repetition of the first hearing. The result was a verdict, at the coroner's suggestion, of wilful murder by some person or persons unknown. And that, so far as the world in general went, was the end, for the present, of the missing mannequin case. Little did the world know of the machinations and undercurrents which existed unabated. Firstly, there was the fact that, to a certain "set, there was no missing mannequin at all, for they knew that she was kept under close guard in one of the gloomy rooms of the sinister Raven Hall, where Dr. Chance pursued a rays- ' terious career. Then there was Eireen Horton, who had seen the body in the mortuary, and was that sure that it was not Verity Lane. She was remaining silent about what she knew. What was her object? Why was she content to keep concealed such a loaded weapon as she possessed? Kennedy Betts, too, knew that Veritr lived. Or at least he made himself believe ne aid, for there

were times when he found himself wondering if, after all, he had not been the victim of hallucination. Such thoughts he always endeavoured to put aside, for his recollection of Verity's face at the window was vivid to a degree. To Kennedy the mystery was intense, for, knowing so much, he knew so very little. Assuming Verity to be alive, he could form no theory as to where she was in hiding. He did not even know that she was in the hands of an unscrupulous set of persons, and, even had he known this, his mind would have been greatly exercised as to why she should thus be kept in captivity. He would have been forced to wonder why au apparently innocent girl, earning her living in a straightforward way as a mannequin, should have been so spirited away. On the other hand, if she were in possession of her freedom, why was she content to let the world think she had been foully murdered T Such, then, was the aspect of a case which the world considered closed. . • • • George Parsons gave a si?h of relief when he heard that the inquest had been concluded, not that he had any definite fears that it would be again adjourned, but because he knew the police had the matter in hand, and that it was not improbable that Kennedy Betts might have told them of the face he saw at = the window. Yef=, it was go.xl to know that the affair had been attributed to some person or persons unknown. He raided 11.i~, jrlass at the Alderman that night to some person or persons unknown. With him were his usual associates. Tom Merry and Tippy Ison. There was a pleasant feeling among them, for the fortunes of their gang were again in the ascendant and a certain member of it had that evening brought off a jewel coup of importance. Since their last sensational stroke they had been I forced to lie low, for the police had j anested several members, who were now in gaol, and had been sufficiently vigilant to render it dangerous for the remaining ones to act in safety. But that danger period had now come <o au end, much to the relief of George Parsons, whose funds had become perilously low. Oeorgu had decided to put Kennedy Betts out of action, after which he would not have much to worry about except the long-standing feud which existed between hi? own and a rival gang known as the Comptou Boys. This latter gang was so known because it had its headquarters in the neighbourhood of Old Gompton Street in Soho. It was a gang which numbered among its members as many desperate characters as could be found among the associates of George Parsons. At times there would be an affray between members of the rival gangs, and the newspapers would have many unpleasant details to record, for the race gang knows no Limit to personal violence, and the weapons consist of knives, life preservers, known as "koshers," and, very frequently, of bottles with broken ends. The latter have been proved to be better than most things for permanently disfiguring a man. Much of the business of a race gang consists of obtaining money by threats from bookmakers, who frequently, and not unnaturally, pay sums rather than go under the constant fear of attack. Resort to the police avails the bookmaker nothing, for the gangs are so extensive that vengeance comes 6urely and swiftly to the informer, perhaps in a train or a lonely street, perhaps — anywhere. Not alone to bookmakers does this apply. Xone incurs the race gang's displeasure without regretting it. At times a race gang may be on the side of the bookmaker, provided the latter pays sufficiently well. In euch

cases the gang devotee its attentions to those of the racing fraternity who in some way defraud the bookmaker of money. Even the man Tvho fails to pay his bookmaker for the simple reason that he cannot is at times marked down by a gang and maltreated. External warfare existed between the Compton Boys and the followers of George Parsons, a matter which was discussed by George and hie friends on this particular night. It had come to George's ears that Aubrey Blade had recently made and lost certain bets which he was unable to pay. They were made with a bookmaker on friendly terms with the Compton Boys. "I don't know if they're aware that the young Aubrey is a nephew by marriage of mine, but if they are, I wouldn't give much for Aubrey's chance if they get him alone," said George presently. ""Sor should I," said Tippy. "What's he like, this nephew?" "Oh, a bit of a toff in his way," said Parsons. "He goes about town and I introduces people to my wife's place. I haven't got much use for him myself, but if he's useful to the old frock factory I don't want to see him come to any harm." "Pity it isn't Kennedy Betts," said Tomy Merry in the tones of one in whom hope is Io:-t. "It'd save us quite a bit o' trouble, mc and Tippy, if they'd dot him one.' , "Well, it isn't Kennedy Betts," said Parsons with an air of finality, "and since Kennedy lietts is one of my biggest dangers at present you'd better get the job done as soon as you can. about to-morrow?" "Bit soon isn't it?" queried Tippy. "Soon:"' eohocd Parsons. "You must be going daft. "It can't be too soon. Tor-morrow then, and don't make a mess of it." This having been settled, the conversation was turned to other channels, and eventually the men left the Alderman one by one. It was rare that Mr. Parson's friends moved collectively, but, when they did, it was usually to some more eiciting end than going to their homes. On the following evening Kennedy Betts worked later in his chambers, for on the morrow he had to be in the Law Courts to conduct the case which he hoped would lead the way to forensic fame. It was the chance for which he had waited since he was called to the bar. Eventually he switched off the light and made his down the narrow staircase, which. like so many others in the Temple, had at its lower entrance a list painted on the wall of the barristers who had chambers in that building. "Mr. Kennedy Betts," he read. How soon, he wondered, would it be "Kennedy Betts. K.C. 1" It was with this fascinating contemplation in his mind that he walked homeward towards the Adelphi. A dank ground fog lay upon London, and it was with i-tisfaction that he turned from the Strand into the deserted streets of the Adelphi and felt himself nearing home. Little did he know that much was to happen before he saw his rooms again, for in a doorway not far ahead two men stood waiting.* They were Tom Merry and Tippy Ison. {To be continued Batnraay next.)