IT DOES EXIST

Evening Post, Volume CXII, Issue 124, 21 November 1931, Page 22

IT DOES EXIST

''One for the Underworld to-night,

Miss."

Tbe remark, spoken through-'the telephone at a motor-coach agency, was a little startling. One pictured & sort of female Charon waiting below. The ticket, too, was definite enough— "Charing Cross to the Underworld, one." Nothing was said about a return, says a writer in the London "Daily Telegraph."

I was in search of "London's Underworld," which, according to various charabanc and motor-coach companies, has an actual existence. Moreover, it is visited every "season" by hundreds of foreigners and visitors from the country.

Agog for the dubious mysteries of the East End, wo swung in our "rubberneck wagon" first towards Seven Dials and.Bloomsbury. An American flanked m 6, whilst abaft there was a contingent from New Zealand.

The coach made its first halt in Doughty street, before a dinily-seen house. This, it transpired, had been occupied at one time by the celebrated thug, Charlie ("Pickwick") Dickens.

Through the City we went, and presently by Old street and Brick lane rame to Whitecbapel High street. "The Jewish quarter," remarked the guide, and added: "You are now approaching the heart, of the Underworld."

The point was not well taken. We gazed rather coldly at buses, pavements thronged with neatly-dressed people, brilliantly lighted shops and cinemas. The sight of a lone •policeman strolling imperturbably made me blush as I thought of New York's police and gangsters out for their nightly-orgy of "bumping off."

LONDON'S UNDERWORLD

"And what," I inquired, think of the Underworld?"

"Chinatown,'" proudly declared the guide, as wo entered Pcmiy/ields. Sure enough a moment later we perceived about a dozen indubitablo Chinese on the pavement. Unfortunately, they immediately shattered the immemorial calm of the East by greeting us with a loud (if cyuieal) cheer.

At a famous publichouse in the East India Dock road a few girls danced with dreary decorum to a piano.

Eather in the apologetic manner of tbe garden lover who insists on showing yon round, only to keep on repeating, "But you should have been here last week, when the delphiniums were out," or "You are just too early to see the roses at their best)" the guide was audibly astonished at tbe sedatcness of everything.

"Never known it so quiet," he re.pcatcd, in aggrieved tones. "Now last week wherever he went we saw fights, and at once place they pelted us with tomatoes."

But as we climbed back into our ■coach not a voice was raised in anger, not'<i solitary tomato found a juicy billet. •

Through Eotherhithe Tunnel we plunged, and by Tooley street came to Waterloo Bridge.

Crossing it, I turned to the American who had maintained an enigmatic silence. " ' ■ ■

■ "Tough," was the unlooked-for rpspoase. "It certainly looked tough to me;" , ' "And where," I continued gently,. "rlo vnn nnmrv frnm?"