Tale Of The Gambling Crone

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 106, 7 May 1938, Page 9 (Supplement)

Tale Of The Gambling Crone

BYNOPSIS. Intrigued at the eight of an old crone nightly losing great sums in a Mont* Carlo gambling casino, Louis Lemoine, brilliant French detective, and his colleague, Captain Dβ Beck, trace her to Marseilles, where they discover that she is a woman of the underworld known a* Mime, linger. Shadowing her in the dead of night, they follow her to a cemetery and watch her enter one of the vaults. WE waited. The minutes passed slowly. Once I thought I heard a faint rustling sound behind us. Finally there was a faint creak as the vault door swung open. This time there was no crack of light. And this time two figures emerged——the old woman and what appeared to be a tall man, muffled to the hat brim. "You follow her if they ' separate," Lemoine whispered to me. "I'll take the other." The pair walked etraight to the cemetery gate. I distinctly heard a key in the lock. The gate swung open, they passed out of the cemetery—and locked the gate behind them. Now this was highly irregular. In France, even owners of mausoleums are obliged to hunt up the curateur to obtain admiVfiion to a cemetery after five o'clock. Yet Mme. Unger's companion had a key. Was he an official of the cemetery ? Whoever he wae, the fact that he had that key certainly made it difficult for Lemoine and me. Not even Louis, that ace of man trackers, could shadow two persons through a locked door, and obviouely he couldn't leave with them. Pain Of A Knife Stab "Come on!" whispered Lemoine, and he started on the run for the corner where the wall was broken. On the point of following, I heard a footfall in the darknees. I paused. Lemoine was just slipping through the wall. I looked around. Were there others in this place? And then, around a tombstone just to my left there came the dark bulk ©f a. big man. I saw the gleam of faint light upon the blade of a knife. Then that knife ripped through my left eleeve. I felt a burning pain and the fight was on. For a moment I had the advantage; the wound did not incapacitate me, and I seized the outflung arm and wrist, pivoted on my liool- -and pulled eud- ■ v with all my strength—a-commor wrestling trick. As 1 pnlk'd'l stooped —and my big opponent flew over my head. But I was eadly mistaken in thinking that this would take the starch out of him. He eeemed to hit the jrround and bounce back, so quickly did he scramble to his feet. "Accursed swine!" I heard a coarse voice snarl. "You'll pay for that! From the voice I instantly knew that my foe was Jacques Unger. I was reaching for my gun. I had it half-way out when the big fellow was on top of me again. In the gloom, his foot came up with lightning speedstruck my ri K ht arm and knocked my pim flving from my hand. I countered with a left jab that found his face. I prayed that he had dropped the knife. I bored in, working both hands to his etomach, fighting for niy life. A blow just missed my head.

True Stories Of The Marseilles Secret Police

-No. 2-

The big apache grunted as my nets landed on his etomach. His attack weakened a little, but the next instant the night was filled with flashes of fire ae one of his fiste came up from beneath and landed on my jaw. A fraction of a second later he stamped his heel on the instep of my right foot. I found myself reeling. I crashed against a tombstone, my opponent coming right after me. My head was rolling from side to side. My foot ached horribly. * And then I tried a desperate ruse. I trroaned and staggered and—as I had hoped—huge Jacques thought he had me and forgot all caution in his lust for the kill. He came in wide open—and I brought up my knee. It caught him on the groin. He doubled up, groaning. He limped away from me. And I, I had to sink to a crouching position from the pain in my foot. In a moment my apache began to limp towards the, cemetery gate— and I had to let him go. I couldn't chase him. I had no gun, and in all probability he still had the knife. I sat down upon a stone and massaged my injured foot until I felt that I could use it again. In that ,5 most ignoble position I was found by Lemoine. "I lost my man," he told me bitterly. "He had a "car parked, without lights, around the corner. I couldn't follow him too close, of course. And he was into-the car and away, still with no lights, before I could do a thing."

By Captain Eugene de Beck

I told Lemoine of my adventure. "A fine pair we are!" he said gloomily. And then he brightened. "Still," he said, "the evening has not been wasted. There is the vault." With a tiny flashlight Louis approached the tomb. It seemed very new. Over the doorway, carved into the stone, was the name "Hammard." Then, after locating my gun, we left the cemetery —Louis helping me to limp along. Next day my foot was swoTlcn and still sore—but nothing, you may be sure, could keep me in bod when Louie came in and told me that he was about to call on the man who owned that vault. My arm, supported by a sling, throbbed a little, but was not seriously c! maged. ♦ • ♦ • "I shall, of course, sound him out," said Lemoine. "We have discovered that the present owner of the vault is a M. Scnar, a jeweller. The name 'Hammard' was that of his father-in-law." M. Senar's jewellery store was indeed an imposing one —its appearance had that dignity and simplicity which mean high prices. Naturally, we did not go to such a place in apaclie guise. We were waited upon by a man of distinguished appearance. He was tall. quite dark and with eyes of black— extraordinarily piercing eyes. In attire and manner lie was most correct. His slight smile seemed genuine. I must confess that I felt somewhat drawn to this man. "Monsieur," said Louis, "will you kindly show me some betrothal rincs? Medium price/'

"To be sure, monsieur." Our gentle - man turned and spoke to someone behind a frosted glass partition. "You will kindly bring me the fourth drawer of rings, Hclcne," he said. And it was impossible not to notice the change in his voice; still punctiliously correct, hie tone was now, however, cold. The impression was fleeting —but unmistakable. In a moment a girl entered bearing a tray of ringe. I stared at her. She was beautiful and blonde, with an ojhmi doll face. She spoke: "Here are the rings," she said, thrusting the tray at the tall man. He; manner was unpleasant, but her voice— it was the voice of a street gamin! What on earth was such a one, for all her prettiness, doing in thie ultra-dignified establishment? Louis looked at the rings, said that he would return, thanked our gentleman, and we withdrew. Outside Louis turned to me. "Of course, Eugene," he said, "you know who that girl is. You noticed "the name he called her?" "Yes, he said 'Helene,'" I replied. "The same Helene, no doubt, whose name we heard spoken by Jacques Unger, in his mother's room in Monte Carlo." Deductions By Lemoine "Of course," Louis replied. "She is the daughter of the old woman. Her name, voice and manners all indicate this, plus the Unger family's contact with the jewellery establishment, as shown by Maman's visit to the tomb. Seeing her made me change my plans about questioning the owner of the tomb." We hailed a taxicab to go to police headquarters. Intent completely, the human ferret, Lemoine, checked off his points one by one on the fingers of his left hand: "One, Mme. Unger, that clever old harridan, has money to burn. She burns 100,000 francs of it'at Monte Carlo. Two, something goes wrong in Marseilles so ' her son comes to force her to return. Three, we hear her son Jacques mention "Helene"—as if he, at least, knows his sister's whereabouts. Four, Mme. Unger returns to Marseilles, and we trace her (n the tomb of a wealthy and respectable family, where she meets a man. Five, in the business establishment of thie family wo find Helene Unger working in a position she obviously is not fitted to fill. Now—l ask you, Eugene, what does that look like?" "Perhaps," I suggested rather weakly, "an official of the jewellery business is in love with Helene. Perhaps that's where the money has been cominf from?" "No," said Lemoine, thinking aloud— and as he did so he began that trick of his, fiddling with coins, hie watch, a gold pencil, making them disappear and bob up again in distracting places. He was unconscious of this childish mannerism which, it is my conclusion, was the evidence of his effort at concentration. "NTo," he continued, and "XV again until I could hardly constrain myself. "Eugene!" he said at last, "somewhere in this case we shall find blackmail. Obviously, there must be some connection between the Ungers' source of money and Helene's position in the Senar establishment. But who is being blackmailed? Why? What darker crime lies behind it? Who k the 'pig'

who no longer fears the Tjutcher'— unless it is tho person who is being bled of money? And who could the 'butcher' lie, except the one who is doing the blackmailing? Why is the 'pig' no longer afraid, and if he is not afraid, why is Helenc kept on at the shop, and why did someone meet Mine. Unjrer in tho tomb? Why? What? Whom?—and still we have no crime! I tell you, Eugene, this is the most fascinating puzzle I have ever had to solve. And solve it I shall, let me tell you!" (Continued next week)