Tommy Spindie Again

Dominion, Volume 30, Issue 113, 6 February 1937, Page 25

Tommy Spindie Again

(Original, by

Detective Lloyd (17).

Wellington.)

JT was a regular hot summer’s day. I turned into the yard, at Spindle Manor, where I found Tommy industriously painting the roof of a tworoomed shed. “Hey, up there. What are you doing?” "Painting,” came the laconic reply. "ll—m, I can see that. But what on earth are you painting for?” "This shed is to become the headquarters of our Detective Agency.” It was a fortnight later, and the shed was now thoroughly cleaned out, papered and furnished. Tommy was in command, Dick was second in command, Fatty and Paddy were ordinary detectives, while I was the secretary. It was late afternoon, and I was seated at my desk, devouring the contents of a book. I was just up to the most thrilling part when in bounced Tommy. "Why aren't you working?” he asked. “■Working?” I echoed. “Look here, for two hours I’ve been seated in this chair, trying to look important, twiddling my thumbs, and interviewing empty air.” "Well,” smiled Tommy, “send them in—when they come,” and he passed into his office. “When they come,” I muttered. “Hullo!” for a tall thin man, dressed entirely in black, had stepped in. “What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?" "Is—this—Tommy—Spindle’s—Detective—Agency?” he asked, slowly drawing out the words as he spoke. “Er—yes, won’t you be seated?” 1 drew the book toward me. "Now, sir, will you please give me your name, address, and the nature of your business?” “My—name—is—Professor—Coffin.” “P-P-Professor C-C-Coffin. Oh!” and I nervously chewed the end of my pen and nearly choked myself. “My—business—is—inventing— new—coffins. But—l—have—come—here ■ -because —my—life—has—been—threatened.” “Y-Y-your life, really. Oh ! But—er—you want Scotland Yard. We’re i.nly amateurs.” "A-h-h!” he said, suddenly, in a voice which made my skin creep. "I—don’t—like —Scotland—Yard.” “Well, sir” (for by now I had a tight grip on.my nerves), “perhaps you had now better see the Chief,” and I beat a hasty retreat into Tommy’s sanctum. A few minutes later I came out. “He’ll see you now.” “Hullo! Hullo!” shouted Dick, coming in, followed by Paddy and Fatty; and I noticed they were eating ices. “Here's your ice; we brought them up from the village. Tommy in?” “Yes. But he’s interviewing a client, a Professor Coffin.” Just then the door opened, and when Tommy came out with the professor the chums stopped eating. “You can expect us to-morrow,” said Tommy. “Good-bye, and thank you. professor.” “Phew! Who is he?” asked Dick. “He looks a queer Johnny to me.” “He says his life’s been threatened. Personally, I think he’s dotty.” "And what a name,” grunted Fatty. “Professor Coffin. Ugh!” The next day we visited the professor. We roamed through the house, from attic to cellar. We were standing on stone steps leading down to one of them, and Tommy swung his torch around. “Nothing here as far as I can see. Look, the floor is muddy. Now I wonder what could have done that?” We took our leave of the professor, promising to come back the next day. “I noticed something while I was there,” I said, on our way back. “Well, tell us,” they chorused. "No, I’m not going to. 1 may have been wrong, but I don’t think so. Come on, we’ll be late for dinner.” We were seated in the lounge, and Sir Humphry was just beginning one of his reminiscences of the war. “We were out reconnoitring,” he began, “when the enemv opened up a bombardment. There were six of us, and Percy Montfort was close by me and we all jumped into a shell-hole. Well, they ceased, and so we cautiously left our shelter, but we hadn’t gone very far when they opened again, and our nearest shelter was a graveyard. So we made a dash for it. Unfortunately Percy was a little slow, and he jumped in an open grave a little way from us. A shell landed a few yards away from it, and when we went to fetch him we found him unconscious. He never recovered; he lost his memory.” There was, silence for a moment, and in that time my brain worked swiftly. “Did,” I asked, “the surroundings have any effect on his mind!” Sir Humphry contemplated. “Well—yes, now you’ve come to mention it they did. Why?” I could see that the chums were eyeing me curiously, so to avoid anv questions I crossed over to the door. “I’m going out,” I said. Mon t be long. ’ And I left a bewildered company behind me. (To be concluded.)