BOOBY TRAP

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 21, 26 January 1939, Page 30

BOOBY TRAP

By. . . RUSSELL HEATLEY

SHORT STORY

u-tiik real trouble," murmured Jerry | * Rhodes to himself, "is that I'ncle Sherlock thinks you're several kinds of At that moment he was the. sole occupant of the little office which his fix-foot one of manhood graced every I day as assistant to the firm of Holmes, I Private Detective*. of Shaftesbury Avenue. Uncle Sherlock—the nickname I for A real life detective culled Holme* was irresistible!—was out. It was extremely important that, sooner or later, the sooner the better, I'ncle Sherlock should be impressed with the sterling worth of Jerry Khodes, even I if the latter had the disadvantage of Ijust having come down from Oxford with no previous initiation into the I mysteries of the detective business. It wiik important, reflected Jerry, I mainly, entirely, wholly because of — ' ■Iciiiiifer. Absent rnindrdlv Jerry took a paper clip from the little store which he always kept in his pocket and flicked it idlv but. with remarkable accuracy at a fly | which was crawling up the window- | pane. This whs one of hin little habits ! which particularly infuriated I'ncle Sherlock, who had strong views on the n object. There was always Jennifer. | After all if it had not been for Jennifer he would not be here. When lie hinted to Jennifer that his hunt for work was not meeting with any marked success, she had miraculously produced I'ncle Sherlock from out of the blue. It is true that when Jerry went to interview I'ncle Sherlock, that gentleman did not Hi'i'in particularly impressed with his athletic achievements during his university cancer. lint, the old boy. peering through goldrinimed glasses out of a chubby rubicund face, had been surprisingly decent. I'ncle Sherlock, in short, said he'd give Jerry a chance, though his tone of voice rather implied some doubt as to whether Jerry would be clever enough to take advantage of it. And although Jerry found the detective business curiously dull, and curiously unlike what he expected, he was more than anxious to prove his ability because Uncle Sherlock was in a sort of way guardian to Jennifer, nnd if there was anything in this world which Jerry wanted to do, it was to marry Jennifer. That was three months ago. So far. reflected Jerry morosely, his chance of doing that one splendid deed which would impress Uncle Sherlock had l»een necessarily limited by the narrowness of hi« duties, which seemed to consist principally of saying "Good morning" to a very motley crew of callers, answering the 'phone, and licking sta m ps. By this time the fly, having recovered from the paper Hip assault on the .window, had travelled to the office door. Jerry took careful aim. but while the clip wm in mid-air, the door opened suddenly, and the clip struck the bulbous nose of Uncle Sherlock neatly and with considerable force. "Look here, you young idiot, blustered Uncle Sherlock. "Haven't you anything better to do than this? Pull yourself together, man. I've got a simple job I want you to do which even you can't foozle " The next day found him wondering if the job was so good after all. It seemed silly. He was to travel to Paris'by the two o'clock train via Folkstone and Boulogne. Uncle Sherlock, travelling separately, but by the same train, was taking a very important package of papers to a certain person staying at the Hotel du Rhone, And Jerry's job? Simply to keep an eye on him during ithe journey. Apparently Uncle Sherlock anticipated an attempt at interference, although the idea of anybody succeeding in parting Uncle Sherlock from the bulky envelope nestling in his breast pocket struck Jerry as slightly humorous. At Victoria station, he found he had fifteen minutes to spare, and there was no sign among the crowd of the rubicund features of his employer. He lit a cigarette. Just time to phone Jennifer. What a pity she couldn't eojne. too. Paris—what a time thev could have! "Hullo, Jennifer." "Hullo. Jerry, just off?" 'Yes—Jennifer, darling. I hope half a dozen thugs set on your respected uncle, during the trip. At leant it'd give me the chance of snowing him I'm not quite the irresponsible scallywag he thinks I am." There was a moment's silence at the other end of the line. Then, "Don't be 'silly—Oh, Jerry—" There was a serious note in her voice which was strange to Jerry. "Yes, darling?" "Jerry—l don't know what makes me think so, but I've a feeling that there's something unusual about this trip. 1 think uncle may be staging something, just— you know—just to sort of test you out. , He's a darling and so on. But it's just the sort of thing he might do." Jerry turned the idea over in his mind. "Oh, J don't know," he answered slowly. "Be careful, Jerry darling. Keep agood look out for booby traps. Good luck." Just in time Jerry left the phone booth, and caught a glimpse of Uncle Sherlock's portly figure pushing its way through the crowd. In the crush at the barrier Jerry lost sight of him for a moment, but found him sitting 'comfortably iit the corner of a first-class compartment which in some miraculous manner he seemed to have reserved for himself alone. Jerry hurried into a partly-filled compartment, and sank Into a seat. Why should Jennifer have said what she did? It was deuced undiplomatic on her part to warn him; or had she considered the end justified the means? A booby trap? It would not l>e at all out of keeping with Uncle Sherlock's temperament. Anyway, it would not do to let Uncle Sherlock out of his sight. With a start, he realised that ten minutes of the journey had passed without his having taken a look at his man. Uncle Sherlock, still in undisputed possession of the next carriage, sat with his head bowed on his breast, half asleep already, a copy of "Punch" dangling on his lap. "H'm," said Jerry to himself. "Possibly he isn't as sleepy as he appears to be. He's a wise old owl." Purposely he hanged against the door of ,J" Sherlock's carriage, and the swift glance which was his reward Showed that Uncle Sherlock's somnolence was largely illusory. He went back to his own compartment. Idly he watched the fields rush by; occasionally taking a quick glance at his employer, still in undisputed possession of the next carriage, still apparently dozing. • Once when he touched .the carriage handle, Uncle Sherlock made no move'-' mailt at all, and seemed to be sleeping. "Queer," thought Jerry—if that pack-

age of paper is as important as he makes out. "I wonder if that part is all a hi-; bluff. I wonder if he is staging something for me?" So obsessed did .lerrv become with the problem that he found himself with one of the inevitable paper clips in his hand ready to flip at the inviting bald head of a miserable looking gentleman opposite, and restrained himself just ill time. Nothing happened to mar the quietness of the journey between Victoria and Folkestone. Assuming the existence of the liooby trap which Jennifer feared, Jerry felt almost a malicious delight in the sudden realisation that , I'ncle Sherlock was among the world's worst sailors—the Channel was choppy. It was not very long before I'ncle Sherlock succumbed completely; he took off his glasses and his red face turned a. sickly sort of grcv-green. Discretion demanded some sort of relaxation of Jerry's shadowing to spare I'ncle Sherlock the aijoiiy of watched in his hour of trouble. Only once when Jerry took a quick look did something strike him as queer. A ridiculously villainous-looking Southern Kuropean in a suit of Americiin cut and an incongruous black felt bat seemed to be taking an unhealthy kind of interest in I'ncle Sherlock. Hut Jerry dismissed the man from his mind quickly, because, with the mole on his nose from which sprouted several bushy hairs, the man really looked too villainous to lie a villain. When they disembarked at Boulogne it was getting dark and had begun to snow. Jerry followed a short distance behind I'ncle Sherlock, who looked shaky and white. Again in some miraculous manner I'ncle Sherlock had a carriage to himself ill the Paris train. With a shouting of French porters which excited Jerry by its novelty the train moved off. Once again Jerry took up his seat in the compartment next to the one occupied bv l 7 ncle Sherlock. Fifteen minutes later. Jerry heard a movement in the next compartment and saw the huge bulk of I'ncle Sherlock lumbering along the corridor, apparently in search of the restaurant car. Jerry followed. He found his quarry sitting at a table with brandy and soda. Jerrv sat at another table and ordered a whisky. They sat there for about l."» minutes, and finally I'ncle Sherlock, looking very tired and miserable, heaved himself up, and walked back in te direction of his conipartnien. Jerry waited, lingering lovingly over his second whisky, then, after about ten minutes, decided he had lietter be getting back. Although it was still early evening, it was pitch black outside. As he passed I'ncle Sherlock's compartment, he noticed that the blinds were completely drawn so that the interior was invisible from the corridor except for one tiny slit. He peeped through. Uncle Sherlock was sprawled on the seat, only half awake, apparently still suffering from the effects of the crossing. Jerry sat down once again in his own seat, and, probably due to the effect of the whisky, became very sleepy himself. Suddenly a familiar figure passed the door. It was the villainous-looking gentleman with the wart on his nose. Jerry watched him pass, then, all at once, became very wideawake. For the man stopped outside Uncle Sherlock's compartment, and felt sure

lie heard him go in. Jerry thought swiftly. This might conceivably be part of I'ncle Sherlock's Rjan. If so now was the time for him to show his hand. "All right, my friend." murmured Jerry grimly to himself. "But doil't Illume me if you get hurt in the process." Quickly and quietly lie reached I'ncle Sherlock's carriage door, flung it open, and strode in. He had a hurried glimpse of Uncle Sherlock cowering on the seat. The next thing he knew was that the cold barrel of a revolver was pressing into bis ribs while the villainous-looking person iu the black hat hissed something about being quiet and rearranged the blinds so as to ensure that the interior of the compartment would l>e invisible once more to anyone passing down the corridor. "Mr. IFolejaculated Jerry. "Stop—or I will shoot, both of you. Both of you instead of one only. Yos." muttered Black Hat threateningly, backing towards the compartment door furthest from the corridor, and keeping both Jerry and I'ncle Sherlock covered with the revolver. Jerrys' mind surged with a dozen questions. This was ridiculous that it must be arranged for his benefit! Good (iod. a man who wanted to take a wad of papers from I'ncle Sherlock would not act in this melodramatic manner, although he had to admit that Jennifer's uncle looked convincingly terrorstricken. Well, for Jennifer's sake he must do the proper thing. Stall for time, that was the tiling. See how this thing was meant to pail out. Almost automatically Jerry's hand fidgeted nervously in his pocket with a paper clip. "Hands out fo your pocket please —Yes," commanded Black Hat testily. Really the man looked an impossible sort of gunman with that sprouting wart and the American quarter inch of shirt visible between his trousers nnd waistcoat. Couldn't I'ncle Sherlock do better than this? Then a surprising thing happened. "Get out of here," said I'ncle Sherlock in a hoarse whisper. "Get out. I tell you. You can't —" "Oh no, please." interposed Black Hat. making a threatening gesture with his revolver. "My young friend must not leave until I have settled my account with Mr. Detective Holmes here. Before my young friend leaves. 1 too, must leave." he paused, and made a significant gesture towards the blackness outside. "I a moment the train —he slows down, always here he slows down. Then I will shoot. That will be my account with Mr. Holmes settled. After. T jump out. nnd get away. Well thought out, ves? Almost as good as your evidence which condemned niv brother to death. I have waited a long time for this moment, Mr. Holmes. It was a happy accident, meeting on the boat. Happy for me. But not for you. Mr. Holmes." Black Hat glanced at his wrist. "In ten seconds, now, Mr. Holmes. It will be over for you very quickly. Just a little bullet. And a litt\e jump for me." He looked doubtfully at Jerry. "Perhaps you had better join Mr. Holmes. Yes? It would be wiser. For you have seen more than you should have seen. It should be your turn first, yes ?" He raised the revolver, slowly. Although it all seemed crazy, out of all reason. Jerry knew that the moment had come for action, although he felt curiously afraid. What ought he to do? What was the logical, convincing course of action in circumstances such as these ? Then he had an idea. The clip! When he had taken his hands out of his pocket at Black Hat's command, he took out the clip too, and had been nervously fiddling witli it during the whole of this amazing episode. He looked at Black Hat's eyes and saw that they were fixed on his. not on his hand. Very carefully lie poised the clip for flight, aiming at Black Hat's right eye under the beetling brow. He let fly, and at the same time lunged forward pushing Black Hat's revolver arm upwards — There was a sharp report and the revolver clattered to the floor. At the same moment Black Hat gave Jerry a kick in the stomach which sent him flying across the carriage towards the corridor, right on top of Uncle Sherlock, who had risen, from his seat. When Jerry recovered himself, Black Hat had gone. Snowflakes were swirling in through the door whence he had made his exit. "My God," said Uncle Sherlock, beads of perspiration on his brow. "That was a narrow squeak. Jerry. I thought the fellow looked vaguely familiar on the boat." But Jerry was not listening. His eyes were on the splintered woodwork of the carriage where the bullet had penetrated, and suddenly he felt verv faint—.