SHERLOCK JUNIOR.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 46, 23 February 1929, Page 2

SHERLOCK JUNIOR.

l(By H. LeoDard Heatley, 20, Kelvin Eoad, Kemucra, age lu.) You know the feeling when you have been reading detective yarns. Well, I Hiacl been reading quite a 100 just lately, and every noise seemed to hold a clue that had baffled "Sexton Blake" in one of those "brilliant stories, "The Case of the Man with One Eye."

Now, it so happened that one day I had nothing particular to do, and as I was taking ail afternoon 6iesta my attention was drawn to a man down the street. Still, there was nothing remarkable about that fact, only that he had a shade over one eye. I then cast my mind back to the "brilliant detective story."

"Follow him!" had hissed Sexton Blake to his assistant. "He is a member of the l'our Masked Men."

Here, then, was something for me to do. I determined to try my powers of shadowing.

He turned up one street and down Another, and between whiles of wishing J hadn't 'tarted and wishing I had a tilsguise like Blake, I was wondering what his occupation could be. Those in the story had been blackmailers, but upon secondary consideration I came to #8 jWUCtelss Ixg jras not. His

clothes gave no clue to this, and I was getting a little disappointed at the continual walk, walk, walk.

Presently, however, I had something to get on with, he having been offered a lift by a lorry driver. I also had a ride on "the lorry, but not by invitation, my seat being amongst the timber that comprised the load of the vehicle, from where I commanded a view of the driver and his companion, a strategic position for seeing when he alighted.

We were carried some two miles, the destination of the lorry, and the shadowing commenced again.

I judged that we had walked another three miles when he approached a house and rang the bell, lie was admitted, and the door closed behind him. Well, I'd come all this way, and I wasn't going away without first having a peep inside, so I accordingly crept up the front steps.

I was just having an interesting look in when, to my astonishment, the front door ppened, and the man I had followed stood on the doorstep. I was speechless for the minute, t but recovered my presence of mind sufficiently to ask:

"Can yotl tell me where 3lr. John stone lives, pleaseV"

That happened to be the first name I could think of, but his reply nearly staggered 111 c, but fortunately I kept my thoughts to myself.

"Yes," lie said, "I am Mr. Johnstone, Can I do anything for you?"

"This was getting too hot for me, so I tried him on another tack.

"Are your initials 11.11.?" I inquired. "Yes, my initials are H.M."

"I was growing hotter and hotter, and as I wiped my brow with my handkerchief I was wondering what to say. As I have already told, his clothes gave no clue to his occupation, which seemed to me to be the only cseape left open. If lie bad dirty clothes on, I certainly would not have asked him whether ho was a lawyer, but in the fashion he was dressed he could have been anything from a Supreme Court judge to a travelling salesman without any comment.

I decided to stake all on one last throw and blurted out the query: "Are you the journalist?"

"No, I am not," he roared. "I am Johnstone, HAI., private detective."

This was about the limit, so after wishing him a very faint "Good afternoon," I hastily departed and commenced my six-mile journey back home.

The booksellers do not, now make any profit out of me, for T've decided that the "brilliant and thrilling yarns" are too brilliant and thrilling for inc.