THE GIRL FROM NOWHERE

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 189, 12 August 1933, Page 10 (Supplement)

THE GIRL FROM NOWHERE

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

DOMINIC HAYES, a detective, whose duty lies in "the Sink," a part of London's dockland, is keeping a quiet eye on some familiar figures in the bar of the Jolly Young Waterman when he receives the surprise of his life. The door of the "pub'' opens and there enters, hesitantly, a charming girl. "It" ever there was a niee girl, here was one." And, stranger still, sho is accompanied by DAN KEEVES, one of the most dangerous "toughs" known to Dominic. The detective studies the pair furtively as the girl sits drinking lemonade and lier companion a stiff whisky. Dominic's skill in lip reading enables him to follow some of the conversation. Keeves is telling the girl about Dominic, wlio has soon aroused her interest. He tells her that Dominic is a good ruan in a scrap. Dominic soon lias an opportunity of living up to liis reputation, for it is not long before two of Keeves' fellow-toughs create a scene as a preliminary -to kidnapping the girl. Dominic intervenes and takes charge of the girl His efforts to get to know something about lier are met with a blank refusal. "Where do you come from?" he asks. "Nowhere," is her reply. Finally, in answer to liis entreaties to keep away from "the Sink," sho says that she will do so on condition that Dominic tells her who murdered EUGENE BRAND. The detective has to admit that he has never heard of the case. The ignorance of the detectives is, says the girl, the very reason why she herself must find the murderer. And when she has found him, she intends to shoot him, i£ she cannot get him hanged. He volunteers to keep an eye on her and ultimately she tells him that her name is Masters, but she refuses lier address. Keeves takes the girl away. Dater, at headquarters, Dominic inquires about Eugene Brand. He learns that Brand was a young chauffeur who seemed to have been employed by one CODCUTT, a dope trafficker. Brand disappeared soon after a murder of which C'olcutt ia suspected. Dominic is gathering this information when the superintendent sends for him, and tells Dominic that he wants him to take charge of a young lady who is wandering in the Sink. Obviously it is Jlisa Masters, but the police know her as ANN VAUGHAN. His instructions are that if Ann gets into any difficulty a report is to bo made to one ELIAS KINIPPLE, solicitor. This information surprises Dominic, because Kinipple is known as "the Crooks' Lawyer" and was said to be hand in glove with the "dope king," Colcutt. With this authority Dominic seeks out the girl and explains the position. Ann resents what her friends have done, but decides to tolerate the detective's supervision when she learns that the kidnapping of attractive girls is tho business of some of the ruffians who infest the Sink. Although neither the detective nor the girl knows it. Ann has already become .1 subject of interest to a gang of kidnappers working for a woman known as CORA DANGERFIELD, who lives in considerable luxury. To a bully named BANDY, Cora assigns the task of kidnapping Ann. Meantime, Ann has made a little progress with her inquiries. She has learned that if sho can find a girl named Maisie Grey, she may get a clue to the fate of Brand. But Dominic tells her that Maisie Grey cannot be found. She "disappeared" two months ago. Dominic, who has a small private income, large ambitions, and a partiality for dancing, meets Ann at a social affair in the West End. Ann is astonished and a little annoyed, thinking that he is exceeding his duty by following her where she has no need of his protection.

CHAPTER Vni

Bandv and Frcil canio out of tTie other end of the alloy as quickly as they had entered it, and after making sure that Dominic was not still on their heels, fetched up, panting, at a coffee stall. They were not thirsty. They had been drinking all the evening, Fred with the strict moderation enforced by his thrifty spirit when ho was himself paying for tho drinks, Bandy with the freedom permitted by the money for expenses he had obtained 'from Mrs. Dangerfield. They sipped the ungenerous liquor with an air of depression. "Wo don't seem to be setting about this something job in the right something way," said Fred gloomily. "I can't think what that something flatty was playin' at —every something minute I expected him to slug me or kick me." "'E trod on mo something 'eel—a'purpose. 'E was waitin' for 'is something chance, 'e was, and I'm glad we something well 'opped it when we did. 'E'd think liuflink of leavin' us for dead, 'o wouldn't," growled Bandy with a bitter, but honest indignation. "Well, it's no pood going, on like this. It's just a something waste of time, it is. We've got to begin at the other something end, and jump on to Dan and the girl on their way to Badgett's before this something flatty is about," said Fred thoughtfully. "We can have tho Butcher and his something taxi \andy." "It ain't 110 . daylight job. I ain't going to git the something skirt off Dan without a something fight, an' she'll be yellin' at the top of 'er something voice —at least she'll let out a something yell or two afore I git me something 'ands on 'er. There'll be ten or a dozen something blokes round afore we know where we are." "It ain't going to be any something daylight job," said Fred impatiently. "They ilon't como to Badgett's before nine, and it's something well gittin' on for dark at nine. And who's going to pay any something 'eed to a skirt's yelling in Barrow Street? Tliey always go away, Dan, an' the girl do, by Barrow Street; so they come by it. It won't b© no something trouble to find out where Dan Keeves hangs out, an' all we've something well pot to do is to watch them come out of the something 'ouse 'e lives in, and get on ahead of them an' wait for them in Dicker's something alley with the Butcher and his something taxi coming along behind them, an' Shorty in it ready to lend you a something 'and." "We can do that easy, an' the alley is something 'andy," said Bandy with grudging approval. The idea of an ambush from which he could strike the first and paralysing blow in security, pleased him, and he pondered it. He thought with an ugly grin that Dan Keeves would never get tho chance to draw his deadly gun. Next day they inquired into the life and habits of Dan Keeves, and they had no difficulty in learning that he lived in a room in the top storey of a lißuse in Dicker's Street, and that that house was comfortably in view from the window of the bar of the Eed Lion. In that bar, beside the window, Fred settled himself at five o'clock and drank, with thrifty discretion, and joined in the talk of its frequenters. At half-past six Dan Keeves appeared at the door of his house, hatless and carrying a jug. He came to the pub and went back with tho jug full. At eight o'clock Bandy joined Fred in his watch, and at twenty to nine Dan came out of the house and took his way up the street. He had gone 40 yards up it before Fred perceived what he was doing. Then he snapped: "Come along! 'e's going to something skirt! She don't live in the 'ouse!" They bustled out of the Bed Lion and followed Daiij Fred Blinking along, close

BV -*"* EDGAR JEPSON. %

to houses and with his hat well over his eyes, forty yards behind him the clumsier and far more visible Bandy trying to slink, and making a poor job of it, thirty yards behind Fred. Dan did not make it easy for them; every now and then he would stop and look back, evidently trying to find out if anyone was trailing him.

So they came to the edge of civilisation, and from a distance saw Ann arrive in a taxi and join Dan.

"So that's 'ow it is, is it?" 6aid Fred. "Blest if I didn't think as a girl like that couldn't 'ave fallen for Dan! She'll 'avei friends, this something skirt will."

"What'll that matter? Once I git 'er to Corer's," said Bandy scornfully.

But this new knowledge gave the cautious Fred pause. He looked at his comrade, and was sure that if Bandy got into trouble ho would not hesitate to drag him into it, if anything were to bo gained by doing so. And all the while he liad been believing that they were dealing with a friendless girl! "Look 'ere," he said. "You an' the Butchcr will 'ave to 'ide up your faces, an' Shorty, too —beards."

"Beards!" 6aid Bandy. ''Beards cost mo ncv."

"An' Corer gave you the money. Beards is wot it's for," said Fred almost fiercely. "I got one."

Still debating tho matter, they followed Dan and Aim to tho Jolly Young Waterman. They did not go into it; they knew all that they need know, and Dominic would bo there. They went to tho Goat and Compasses and talked of the need of beards. The next tnorning they called on the Butchcr, who seldom drove his taxi by day, and laid their scheme before him. Ho was sleepy and surly till he heard there was a fiver in it for him; then lio was all animation. It was arranged that Fred should bring him a beard and point out Ann and Dan at tlic top of Barrow Street, and leaving him to follow them in his taxi with Shorty, should run down Dicker's Street to join Bandy in Dicker's Alley, and let ]'ihn know that they were coming. They then found Shorty, a stuggy ruffian, and found him no less delighted, when he learnt that there*was a fiver in it for him, than the .Butcher to help [ them by lending Bandy a hand with the girl. For a fiver he would havo lent a hand to a. murderer. Tho merit of the plan was its simplicity, and they awaited the night in an eager expectancy. The Ambush. Dominic went about his business that day with no premonition of the promise of tho night. He knew the slowness with which the members of his flock made their plans, and the greater slowness with which they put them into execution, and he never dreamt that they would attempt anything before dark in the face of such a formidable bodyguard as Dan Keeves.

In the afternoon he was summoned to Scotland Yard to confer about his report on tho proposed burglary of the house in Onslow Gardens, and when tho conference was over, having already come so far West, he went on to Mayfair to take tea with Mrs. Mainwaring. He wished to learn more about Ann. He found his cousin at home and pleased to see

She*gave him tea, and in the middle of it he said: "Who is Miss Vauglian? I haven't seen her at any of your parties before."

"Do you mean to say that she didn't tell you the history of her life? She hadi time and to spare. From the moment I introduced you till the end of the party you monopolised her."

"And very nice too," said Dominic amiably. "But she did not tell me the whole history of her life, but only bits. I'm looking to you to fill in the gaps, in case I meet her again."

"In case!" said his cousin scornfully. "As if I didn't know you were meeting her again! Probably you're going straight to her from here."

"Unfortunately I'm not. I'm obeying the stern call of duty to the East."

"Well, I don't know very much about her. I know that she's a country girl with a lot of money, and that she knows very few people in London. As a matter of fact my solicitor Mr. Kinipple—"

"Kinipple? Not Elias?" Dominic broke in. "Yes." "Oh." "Why, what's the matter with him? He's a very good solicitor." "Quite fust-class," said Dominic drily. "Well, he asked me £o be nice to her, and I've had her here and asked her to the party, and she'd have been a success if you'd "given her the chance, and it's a pity, for you don't mean anything serious."

"My dear Madge, how on earth can I become Chief Commissioner at forty if I marry at twenty-eight?" "You might marry a pretty girl with enough money to be very usqful," said Mrs. Mainwaring. "Pretty girls never have enough money to be very useful, and if they had they wouldn't marry a dctectivc. They'd want someone more showy to be useful to," said Dominie sententiously. "Well then, you oughtn't to go about pretending you're serious if you're not.' 1 • "I don't pretend to be serious—at least not very much. Only just enough to make things pleasant," Dominic protested. "So you don't know any more about Miss Vauglian." "I'm quite sure I don't know half as much about Miss Vauglian as you do," said Mrs. Mainwaring with conviction. "But considering that she has taken a flat in Verschovle Mansions, and the frock she was wearing last night, she must have plenty of money." "Then that's all right; she won't take me seriously," said Dominic cheerfully. They dropped the subject and talked about the party and common friends, who had been guests at it, till he went. He came away thoughtfully; it certainly looked as if it were Elias Kinipple who had procured for Ann the run of the Sink. Ho was nearly home when lie filled with revolt against her embargo on his taking any risk of the dwellers in the Sink learning that he also was guarding her. As long as she was in the Sink she ought to be always under his eye, not only while she was in The Jolly Young Waterman and on her way back to the edge of civilisation, but also 011 her way from her taxi to the Pub. She should be. He could easily keep an eye on her from the taxi to that goal without her, or for that matter anyone else, knowing that he was doing so. Accordingly when at a few minutes to nine Ann stepped out of her taxi to join Dan Iveeves at the top of Barrow Street, Dominic was'waiting fifty yards on her left. The Butcher, with Fred and Shorty, all bearded, was tinkei'ing with the engine of his taxi fifty yards 011 -ler right. Ann smiled and bade Dan goodevening, and they walked to the top of Barrow street; Fred pointed put Ann J

ancl Dan to the Buteller, which was unnecessary, because the Butchcr, a dweller in the Sink, knew Dan. very well by sight, and then hurried down Dicker's Street to warn Bandy, waiting in Dicker's Alley, that Ann was coming; Dominic walked towards the top of Barrow Street at a pace to let Ann and Dan get fifty yards down it, before ne turned the corner; the Butcher stepped into the-driver's seat of his taxi; Shorty stepped inside it; the Butcher did not wish to crawl all the way down Barrow Street on the heels of Ann and Dan; someone might notice it; he waited till he thought that they had gone far enough down it for him to overtake them about forty or fifty yards before they cam© to Dicker's Alley, then started.

Fred was not a fast walker, but he bustled down Dicker's Street and ran down Dicker's Alley and arrived, all in a flurry, at its outlet into Barrow Street, to find Bandy waiting. "They're coming!" he said. Bandy grunted, and with clumsy finders pulled the' revolver out of. his jacket, pocket. "You're never g-g-goin' to use that! stuttered Fred. "Give J im a chanst to shoot!" said Bandy," "No fear/" "00-00-oo!" said Fred, turned and bolted up the alley. (To be continued Saturday next.)