FIND THIS MAN

Franklin Times, Volume XXIII, Issue 38, 3 April 1933, Page 7

FIND THIS MAN

(BY AID AN DE BRUNE)

CHAPTER XX. Ivy crouched in the corner of. the taxi-car watching the meeting between Charlie Western and the "unknown." It was evident, that they were acquainted, but not too well. Their meeting- was too formal for any friendship to exist. They exchanged a few words and then the "unknown" went to the laxi Western and his companion had just left. The driver was on the alert, standing by the open door. The "unknown" spoke a few words, then entered the car. Ivy leaned forward, tapping on the glass. Her driver looked round, a broad grin on his face. She pointed to the car ahead and he nodded —his grin widening. Ivy coloured quickly. The man must think she was mad. following different men about the city at that hour of the night. Yet she had no thought of going home. She had found the "unknown" and before she could rest she must know who he was and where she could find him again. Back of her mind was a new-born idea. If she could follow the man to where he lived, then she could wait her opportunity to speak to him; tell him of her godfather's will and snsiructions, and ask what they meant. But, what would he think of her? Would he, like her taxi-driver, consider that srle was unbalanced? She

would have to risk that! 1 The taxi bearing the "unknown" , went down the street and turned the i corner, heading for the General Post

Office. IVy's driver waited a few seconds before following; then proceeded at a much faster pace. " He caught sight of his quarry again, pulling up before the main entrance of the General Post Office.

The man alighted from the car,

leisurely, and strolled up the steps. Now Tvy saw that he was not" making for the big doors but for the enh-anoe to the private-box corridors. She pushed open the door of her taxi, bidding the man await her return. She

fumbled in her purse as she ran up the steps. Somewhere she had the keys of her godfather's private box. Had she left them at home? No. only that morning she had put them in her hag, intending to go to the box sometime during the day. to discover what letters were there.

The man was evidently not in a hurry. Tvy found him in one of the narrow corridors between the lines of boxes, feeling for his keys. She looked up at the direction boards. Her godfather's box lay down the same corridor. That was a gain. Now she could watch the man, almost, openly.

She went, to her godfather's hex and fitted Ihe key in the lock, letting flown the steel door. There were half-a-dozen letters in the box. The girl did not, take them out. She opened her bag and took out her powder-puff and mirror. Watching in the mirror she obtained a fair view of the man and the box he was opening. She marked it carefully. For some moments he stood, scanning the letters he bad taken from the box. Some ho put in his pocket, unopened. Two he retained in his hand. He closed the box and turned to the entrance.

Ivy snatched the letters out of her box and thrust them into her bag. She followed fTm man towards the exit. When she came to where be had been standing, she slopped and scanned the numbers of Ihe boxes. She found the one she had marked in her mirror. It was numbered 751 M. Tf she could find out who rented that box she would have the man's name and address.

She turned towards the exit again. to find that the "unknown" had passed out of sight. Fearing to lose him.

she ran to Ihe covered terrace extend-

ing along Ihe I'ronl of Ihe General Post Office. lie was just stepping into his car. Ivy ran down Ihe steps, motioning lo her driver. He nodded, anffas she jumped into Ihe laxi, swung I lie door shut and sprang lo his seat. The "unknown's" taxi was disappearing round the corner, westwards. Ivy lay back on the cushions angry wil.li herself. She had had the "unknown" beside her and had not spoken to him. Now she came lo examine herself and her impulses she found that she had only thought of tracking him down. Never for a moment, as he stood before lis private box—and she had been at her's —had the impulse lo speak to him come to her. She had only thought of watching: discovering which box belonged to him.

She had had her opportunity—and had thrown il away. Now she was dependanl on her taxi-driver to follow him lo some place where she could rectify her omission. She vowed that if the man succeeded she would recompense him in a manner Ilia I would make his wages appear insignificant—for (hat week at least. Who was this man, on whose tracks she was speeding. lie appeared to h" about, thirty-five, or perhaps a Ml tie more. Dark, and somewhat fleshy. He was clad in full evening dress, with a light, overcoat over it, hut wore no hat. His hair was thin and light-covered. His complexion was almost swarthy and he was cleanshaven. That was the total of her

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observations for, when they stood in the corridor amid the private boxes, he had had his back to her most of the time. The taxis turned into a quiet square, in the heart of the city, the leading car drawing- up before a large stone building. The "unknown" alighted and paid off his driver, (hen ascended the half-dozen steps and disappeared through an open doorway. Ivy jumped out of her ear immediately, facing the driver. "Whose house is that?" she demanded, imperiously. "The Union Club, miss." The man's grin broadened. '"fraid you can't follow him in there. It's for gent's only—and pretty exclusive, too." Ivy stamped in vexation. What could she do now? She knew that the "unknown" was a frequenter of the Palido night-club; she knew his privatebox number at the General Post Office. Now she. knew that lie was a member of the Union Club. She summed up her knowledge and found it sufficient—if only she knew his name. "Can you follow him?" She turned to her driver again. "I want to speak to him. It's very important. I should have done so at the General Post Office but ... but I forgot." She knew her explanation sounded lame, even as she uttered it. "Really, it is most important—so much depends on my speaking to him. at once." "I'll try, miss." The man was evidently impressed by her distress. "What's his name." "I don't know." Ivy confessed. "Don't know." The man echoed. "Then how am I to find him?" "You saw him go up those steps." "Yes, but that don't count now." The man pointed to the house. "There's something on there, to-night. Look at 'em." Ivy turned. A man was jusi disappearing through the doors. Three or four men were clustered before the doors, on the top of the steps. Two other men had just turned from the pavement to the steps. In that crowd, continually passing in and out, she knew that the attendants would not be able lo identify the man she wanted. Impatiently she got into the taxi again and ordered the man to carry her home. Tier evening had ended in disappointment; and that because she had missed her great opportunity.

After a time she became more cheerful. On the whole, she had really accomplished something. - She had found the "unknown." Now she knew that he was a resident of her city. That was an important point. She knew that he frequented the Palido: she knew his postal address. The latter was the best; point she had scored. She could write to the box number and ask him for an interview. That would lie the wisest course to pursue.

She alighted at the door of her home and paid the man. tipping him liberally. He had been clover, painstaking and resourceful. She knew that with an ordinary driver she would no! have accomplished half of whal she had that night. Impulsively she turned and beckoned to him. He slopped the car and backed to the kerb.

"What is voup name?" she asked

"Fred. Powers, miss." "What time do yon go on duly. Mr Powers?" "About five o'clock at night, miss." "Then you have all day to yourself?"

"Except what T use up in sleep." The man grinned. "I'm on till three in the morning and sometimes later, if I pick up an after-supper dance f;u-e lo a distant suburb. Then T may get back to the garage, if I'm lucky, about five or six in the morning." "1 understand." Ivy pondered a moment. She turned to the man. ••| live here. My name is ivy Breton —Miss Breton. Will you go home

early to-night and to-morrow do soul' 1 work- for me? T will pay you well for

"Of course, miss." The man's face brightened. "But if you want me to be early on the job. the best thing is for you to hire me and the cab for the lime you want. It's an engagement T can-put down in the office. See?" Ivy nodded. It would be well to have the man and the car. TTe could undertake her commission better as a taxi-driver than as Fred Powers. lounger. "Good." she said. "It is half-past I en now. Go on with your work unlil midnight: then turn in your car. Tell your office that T want you on duty at mid-day to-morrow. That will give you plenty of time for sleep. At noon, to-morrow call for me here. Your office is to book up all charges lo Miss Breton. If they want, references tell them that I am the late Mr Basil Sixsmith's god-daughter and refer them to Mr Mark Kithner, of Kithner, Wales & Kithner, solicitors. Ts that, plain?" "Bight, miss, and thank you. I'll be here to-morrow, punctual." Ivy watched the man drive away. She was planning quickly. If this man acted as she required him to — and he was resourceful and alert — then before another night came round she would be questioning the "unknown." She turned and entered the house.

In the big hall she looked towards the library. A light shone under the door. She peeped in. Mary was curled up in one of the chairs, fast asleep. "Oh, Mary; I'm so sorry!" The girl crossed the room and kissed her contritely. "Wake up, Mary, it's bedtime !"

The girl yawned and stretched, opening her eyes drowsily; then sat up.

"Ivy! Why dear, where have you been?"

"Up and down the city—trying to devour the 'unknown'." "Did you find him?" "I did." The girl sat down and pulled off her hat. flinging it on to the desk. "Oil. dear! I've had such h lime!"

Then, quickly and eagerly, she started an account of her adventures during the night. Mary listened interestedly, asking many questions. When Ivy find concluded her narrative the elder girl frowned thoughtfully.

"What a mix-up!" she exclaimed. "Richard Kithner, the man whose photograph you placed in the buhl box in exchange for the 'unknown.' Charlie Western, the burglar, copies that photograph and traces the original, believing him to be the 'unknown'." The girl laughed suddenly. "Ivy, I'd have given a lot lo have been at the interview between those two men. To have seen Richard Kilhner's face when Charlie Western challenged him to declare the secret of the Sixsmith millions."

To be Continued)