BIRDS of PREY

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 263, 5 November 1932, Page 15 (Supplement)

BIRDS of PREY

Author of " The Exquisite Lady," "Stone Blunts Scissors" "The Man "Who Laughed," etc., eto.

CHAPTER 111. Detective Inspector Lynton was about to turn and leave the room when the telephone at Tutor's right hand on his desk rang. Tudor motioned to Lynton to wait and lifted the receiver. "Hullo!" "Call through from Brighton, sir. Will you take it?" "All right," said Tudor. He motioned Lynton to a chair. "Hullo! Yes." "Is that Superintendent Tudor 1" "It ie." "Is Inspector Lynton with yo.uV "He is." "He has given you his report, sir J" "He has." "I am afraid it is not quite correct, sir." "E'h? What are you spying?" "His report is not quite accurate, sir. Mr. Thompson has juet arrived here in rather a bad state of repair." "Bad state of repair?" said Tudor. "jYes, sir, mentally and physically. Mr. Thompson has arrived in a car and reports tha t, when the lights went out in the Pullman, he was bustled out of the train and held up by a man whom he cannot identify and another person completely clothed in a black silk hood, which made identification impossible. As soon as the train had moved off he was informed that he could be of no further use and sent off along the tunnel to find his own way 1 home. He has just arrived here, sir." "I don't understand you," sajd Tudor. "Lynton has just told me—in fact, I have a receipt here signed by Thompson—Lynton says he handed the two thousand back to Thompson himself on the train to Brighton, and that Thompson left Lynton only at Brighton station." "Yes, sir, that's what we all thought. But the man who signed that receipt which you have got now was not the authentio Thompson." "What?" Tudor shouted. I'l am afraid, sir, that Inspector Lynton was fooled. I have the real Mr. Thompson here in my office at the moment. Lynton handed back Mi. Thompson's two thousand pounds to somebody on the train made up to look like Mr. Thompson." The receiver fell from Tudor's nerveless fingers. Detective Inspector Lynton left the precincts of Scotland Yard with a feeling of acute dismay. To be fooled at all was bad enough, but to be fooled in that ridiculously easy manner was as bad as it could be. The superintendent had told Lynton what he thought of him, and Lynton could not deny that most of. the bitter - things which his superior had said to him were well deserved. He realised also that he had been in the presence of a great artist, for even the inspector at Brighton who had met the train had acknowledged that the likeness and makeup of the impostor had .been amazing. But the facts had to be faced. Some person, Unknown, liad walked off with two tliousand pounds which was not his own property, and the knowledge, of cthe inner "workings both of Scotland Yard and the underworld which the successful achievement of this feat necessitated boded ill for .the future peace of police officials and of criminals themselves. What sort of a man was it who knew McGrory's intentions? Who was acquainted with the counter measures that Scotland Yard proposed to take? A master criminal, surely. One of those arch devils who appear occasionally in the world of crime and perform feats of unparalleled daring and skill. Lynton knew that in one sense he was lucky.l Superintendent Tudor had given him a second chance, which was hot a habit of his. A bad failure usually meaftt that a man was put on the shelf.' © , , "You are going to get a second chance, and you are darned lucky, see! You've got to go out and g6t that man who fooled you. Don't rest until you do. You've got to get him just as soon as it's humanly possible. If you don't — well, you will leave the special branch." Lynton had loft the superintendent's room and now was making his way to a little shop in Whitechapel, where he proposed to start his activities. He had decided to begin at once. As lie approached the district ho took care to avoid recognition. His face was well enough known in Whitechapel, and he had no desire to cause Vickers any trouble by letting it be known that Inspector Lynton had visited the receiver and informer so late at night; but clouds had obscured the stars, and the night was dark. Taking advantage of the shadows Lynton made rapid progress and finally reached house. The door was opened only an inch or two, and he felt that he was being subjected to a keen scrutiny. "Evening, Vickers," Lynton said, jovially. The door was quiiikly opened, and Lynton slipped through- His host closed and securely bolted the door behind'him. He then led the way to his little parlour and lit an oil lamp. There was something attractive, although awesome, about this old man. Large, bushy eyebrows seemed to be" his chief feature, which practically obscured the steely grey eyes". This man had" been known to Scotland Yard as an informer for over two years, but Lynton suspected that Vickers was not so old as he seemed 'to be. His' movements were lithe and active, remarkably so for a man with hair bo grey that it was_ almost white, with so pronounced a stoop aid such frail hands, in which the veins stood out all knotted and gnarled. But it was.to those bushy eyebrows that Lynton's gaze reverted. They were Vickers' best safeguard; for a lot may be told from a man's eyes; 1 Nature had shielded Vickers from this danger. "And what may I do for you, Inspector Lynton?" "Quite a lot, Vickers. I want to know how you got that story of McGrory's little effort." "How long have you been at Scotland Yard, inspector?" / "A few- months," he said. "Yes. A few months." Vickers' voice was low. "The men who usually come to see me have been there a few years. Allow me to give you a word of advice, inspector. It is not usual for me to be asked, provided that the information I give is accurate, how I came by it. I have never, in fact, been asked that before." "It may not be usual," Lynton said, sharply, "for you to be asked for the source of your information, Vickers, but I'd like to remind you that you have been asked it, and I should like an answer." , , ' ' "Why?" asked the ' informer. "Has something gone wrong?" ' ~ "You are asking me for information bloWj," said Lynton, is got tha

By GERARD FAIRLIE.

right order; I asked you first. I want i, to know where you got your informa--5 tion about McGrory." 5 The informer moved to a desk which i stood in the corner and took a copy of the final edition of an evening paper. He looked at the stop press column. [ "Oil, I see why you were;asking me this question, inspector. McGrory and i four men were taken, so this paper says. That's accurate, isn't, it?" "Yes," snapped Lynton. "Y6u are after the fifth man/' The inspector looked at Vickers in astonishment. There was little indeed that the old informer did not know about the underworld. "I want him. Yes." The old man replaced his paper, sat i down, and looked at the young inspector. "It would be a pity," he said, "if old ■ Vickers were arrested for some silly little thing and put in prison for a time. It could be done. Scotland 5 Yard knows that it could be done. You yourself, , inspector, probably know better than most people, but I repeat it, it would be a pity. Old Vickers is very useful to Scotland Yard, to Inspector Lynton among others, by giving him information. Now I want you to put yourself in my place. You see, my safety to a large extent depends on the fact that I can go on giving information to Scotland Yard, accurate information, the sort of information I do give. Well, where I get that information is my own concern. If I go and tell you and you go and, perhaps, trace this person, or these people—well then, that source of information ceases to be of any use to me, because it would be known at once that old Vickers gave it away. I think it would be better, Inspector Lynton, if you could take back that question. Don't you think so?" The plain logic of the old man's words struck Lynton like a blow between the eyes. "I am not going to trace, as you call it, your source of information. But I want to know, Vickers. There's a good reason or I wouldn't ask. What was your source of information with iregard to McGrory and his gang?" "I hate to, be rude to a police officer." "Don't," said Lynton. "Just answer my question." "You want to know the source of my information," said Vickers. "Does Scotland Yard know that you have come here to ask me that, inspector ?" "Are you, or are you not, going to answer my question?" The old man got to his feet, shuffled across the room, and held the door open. Rather mystified, the inspector followed him. Vickers walked along the passage and unbolted his door; he opened it and stood aside. "Does this mean," said Lynton, fuming, "that you refuse to answer? I want to warn you, Vickers, that if you are to do this sort of thing you may find it—difficult to carry on. Now, a plain answer. Are you going to tell ma the source of your information with regard to McGrory?"" "No," said Vickers, shortly. Lynton passed out into the night. The old man carefully shut his door, shot the bolts once more -into place, and returned to his own room. He muttered the ono word, "Pig!" CHAPTER IV. On the same evening and at about the same time at which old man Vickers so pithily pronounced his opinion of young Inspector Lynton, a man made his way quickly along a dark side street of Maida Vale. He was wearing a light overcoat, the collar of which he kept turned up, and his soft hat slouched over his eyes. As far as was possible-he took advantage of the Bhadows of th§ street, but did not allow an obvious desire to pass unnoticed to interfere with the speed at which he was travelling. He stopped at last in front of one of the houses and rang a bell. The door was opened to him, and he slipped inside. Once the door was shut, he took off his hat, allowing his good-looking, if somewhat thin, . features to be seen. "Miss Desmond in?" he asked, cheerfully.' The old woman, obviously a lodginghouse keeper, nodded towards the stairs. "Usual room. Waiting for you." Mother Hudson was very taciturn. On reaching the first landing the young man knocked at a door opposite. A voice called to him to enter, and he passed into the room quickly. A young girl had risen at his knock, and now came towards him, an expression of ljningled anxiety and relief on her dainty features. Her face was very beautiful; oval in shape, with an aquiline nose, wide mouth, rather too pronounced a chin and naturally wavy, black hair, cut short. She was possessed of creamy skin and wonderful eyes, dark and haunting. "Well, Ben," she cried, anxiously, "what's happened? I've spent the most miserable evening of my life wishing that I was out of the whole thing." "Silly girl," Sherwood cried, jovially. \ "Everything went off splendidly. I've got the lad's iittle lot here quite safe." He withdrew from an inner pocket a ' massive pocketbook, crammed to over- ' flowing with bank notes, and then re- | turned it to his pocket., "Two thousand of the best, my dear." "Tell nie," she cried, "was Thompson 1 hurt?'" J "Hurt? Not in the least," cried Sher- • wood. "Everything went off according 1 to programme. When I got on the train ' at Victoria I saw your charming young man sitting in his usual place, blissfully ■ unaware that all the remaining seats in 1 the carriage Were occupied by McGrory's 1 little villains, and our lot, not to mention 1 certain prominent members of Scotland 1 Yard's most brainy corps—and this brightlad." "Tell me what happened." "As soon as we reached, East Croydon I gently withdrew into the next Pullman carriage and thence into the corridor. No one was about, and in a, few moments his own mother wouldn't have been able ' to guess which was Mr. Thompson of the Metropole, Brighton, and which was— myself, little Ben Sherwood, Well known, for his brilliant impersonations in—" "Do get on with the story," cried Estelle. "Can't you see I'm nearly mad with anxiety? You disguised yourself as Thompson. What then?" "After that I took a seat in the Pullman carriage next to that wherein my double was so peacefully seated. I hid behind a x paper, and as soon as we had passed Coulsdon waited cheerfully for developments. They came soon enough. A few seconds after we had entered the tunnel—Merstham, you know—the lights were all switched off and the train came to a standstill. This was my cue. I dashed into the next Pullman and into Thompson's seat, from which that startled gentleman had been Bomewhat ' forfiibiy ejected by another" stalwart member of our little band. was,

considerable excitement in our part of the world for a few seconds, perfect pandemonium, in fact, but quite soon, much too soon for the success of McGrory's little plan, the lights went up again and the train moved off once more. McGrory's lot had reckoned on at least double as long in order to make their getaway, and when they found themselves being carefully manacled by the Scotland Yardites, well their language positively made me blush—with envy. Order having been restored, a most charming individual, one surnamed Lynton, of Scotland Yard, insisted upon my taking possession of these two thousand beauties, requesting merely that I make out a receipt for same on poor Mr. Thompson's behalf, which I most cheerfully did. We chatted amicably for the remainder of the journey, exchanging views as to the very detestable methods of blackmailing maidens —" Sherwood spoke the last words significantly, casting a sly glance at Estelle—r"until we arrived at Brighton station. Here we were met by another equally delightful upholder of the law. He inquired as to where I had arranged. to me* you—l tolr him the Aquarium—he oifered to keep the appointment for me, to which I was agreeable. After this I had an excellent dinner, caught the next train back to town—and here I am." The girl appeared to be afraid to ask her next question. At last she managed to say: "But what of Dick Thompson?" "Well, if the chief's plans turned out all right he should be, let, me see"—he withdrew a gold, watch from his breast pocket—'"he should be about mid-way ■between London and Brighton—Unless he's had the good fortune to get a lift en route." "What do you mean?" snapped the girl. "After the train had resumed its rapid motion, my dear Estelle, your disillusioned young man was to be invited to find his own way home, shank's mare, you know, through the tunnel and out into the beautiful open country of Surrey and, Sussex. Do him good." He laughed again. Then he took a cigarette, lit it and inhaled the smoke. This seemed to annoy the girl intensely. "How can you treat the whole affair so lightly? That poor boy! I wish I'd never agreed to help you get the money for your play, I wish I'd never met you." "You're, not on the stage now, Estelle, acting the young girl's lament or some such rot. Listen to me." There was now. an almost menacing note. "Listen to me. Where would you be now if I hadn't put this proposition up to you? Why, playing one line servant girl parts, 'The carriage is waiting, my lord,' in a third-rate touring company. You—with your talent. Don't be a fool, girl. We had to have the money, and besides it's only a loan, we'll pay it back, as I promised you, directly my play succeeds—which it will, you know it will. There's not a dull line in it, nothing but' pure, original wit. It's bound to succeed—and with you as leading lady —why, Estelle, you'll have the world at your feet!" "I can't help thinking of that poor boy. What must he think of me ? What "It's a jolly good experience for the cub. Teaeli him to be more particular as to his company in future. Anyway you thought of it in the first place. I had no idea what you were up to until the chief told me that Dudey had information that McGrory's ex-girl was blackmailing, young Thompson on her own account." "McGrory's ex-girl? Is that what they call me?" "How else? You were a member of his gang." "Yes," said Estelle, "I was, but I couldn't stick it for long, Ben. I thought I might get on to the money that way. I hadn't a very definite idea about it, but thought something might crop up. But—well, I couldn't have stuck it another week for a million pounds. I just cleared out and tried to think of some scheme on my own. Then I met Thompson. I do feel ghastly when I think of him. He was such a nice boy. Then one day he asked me to marry him, I was just going to refuse when suddenly this devilish idea came to me. I told him I wasn't sure, wanted time to think, all that sort of thing, and asked him to write and ask me again in a week. He did, such a nice letter, and—l used it. I told him a lot of lies about my past, which he wouldn't believe. I convinced him by saying that unless he handed me two thousand' in cash I Would m&ke the letter public. By this time, naturally, he wasn't at all keen on marrying me, and it wasn't very difficult after that. He was bringing the money down by this train, meeting me at Brighton, where I was to hand him the letter after receiving the notes. That was the original idea, then you told me you had found out about it all through your gang—l got your letter this morning—also that McGrory knew about it, an d that's how it all happened." (To be continued Saturday next.)