THE KNIGHTSBRIDGE MYSTERY

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 30 December 1925, Page 8

THE KNIGHTSBRIDGE MYSTERY

CHAPTER XVIII. GETTING THE “WIND UP.” Busy times for Michael Penbury; crowded hours of love and adventure. Levita and Nobby Wang wepe finder remand, the inhospitable shores, of their native land waiting ultimately to receive them. Armed with authority, and accompanied by the inevitable Ginger Hair, by name Tom Martin, he discovered in the Levantine's flat enough evidence to place conviction beyond a doubt. Then he turned his steps citywards. Brian Cranbourn greeted him Warmly a . host of questions in his look. “Mr. Constantine Levita will trouble you no more,” he said. “You’ve got him?” Penbury nodded. , ‘How can I thank you; .how can we all thank you!” ’ • “In the execution of my duty. Penbury smiled as he uttered the stereotyped phrase. Then he fold the story, though perhaps not every detail of it. There was a reservation; to linn a sacred reservation. '« *

“I should like to see Mr. Prankford, ’ ’ he said. “He will be delighted to see you, and everlastingly grateful. What an escape he’s had!” ■ . - “The murderer of Poppy Wilton is still at large,” Penbury reminded him. “Is he?” The implication was ig-

nored. “At times the law moyes slowly, but it moves. Now may I see Mr. Prankford ? ” Eustace Prankford looked up from his work as the two men entered. Rather nervously he held Out his hand. For a moment only Penbury hesitated, a moment of swift thought; then he took it.

“Mr. Penbury has good news.” Brien beamed at his friend and prospective father-in-law. Prankford’s face flushed; almost pathetically he looked at the detective. Cranbourn stole -from the" room quietly closing the; door after him. Then the two men talked long and intimately, but not much of Levita after the” first few words of explanation. Penbury seemed almost to have forgotten the existence of that individual; perhaps he thought his existence was a matter of no further concern, But he stressed with singular insistence the friendship of this man for Poppy Wilton; stressed it to a length which Prankford found almost intolerable. Shame and adoration; shame of his conduct, adoration, for one whom he had no, right to adore. Por that was what it amounted to; thi3 was what Penbury wrung from him, little by little; what he semed determined to know. That known, there was not much more .to hear or say. Very much a man of . the world, he knew that these things were, had always been, would always be. It was amazing how this man with his questing eyes wormpd himself into one’s confidence. Prankford found himself opening up his inmo it thoughts, laying bare secrets which he had even tried to hide from himself. Imeerpeptibly they were drawn from him; he marvelled at his lack of caution, yet did not regret it. Somehow one felt, the better for telling this man things, as the faithful after confession. In the man he forgot the policeman; lie could not associate him with his calling. All his pre-conceived notions of what the police were like went by che board. The inhuman machine was very human after all.. Strange that he should have overlooked this' fact.

Then Penbury the inscrutable’’whispered a secret. His listener stared at him in blank amazement; stared incredulously, dumb-founded. Yet when the two men shook hands at parting it was not with one hand only. The four hands met, the four eyes. Neither spoke. Brian Cranbourn came in, all aglow with excitement, eyes beaming. .‘.‘.Well, sir, wasn’t I wise in taking him into our confidence?”

“Very wise, my dear Brian.” “Isn’t he an extraordinary fellow?”

‘ • Very extraordinary. ’ ’ “Jolly secretive though. Seemed to hate talking about the. war, but admitted, rather reluctantly, that he was buried at Loos for forty-eight hours. Enough to drive any fellow balmy. Probably accounts for his queer man-? ners.” “Probably.”

But what a whirligig it was! Quincey P. Brookham, .along with others of his breed, was helping to make night hideous in Pino's celebrated club, where.one of the waiters approached and whispered in his ear that a gentleman was asking for a moment. or two of his precious time. Quincey opened wide his mouth to question further, but the waiter, pointing to the exit,- slid off. Booking, the negro saw a man in full evening dress, but not recognising him, laid aside liis instrument, a gorgeous contraption all keys and tubes, and swaggered along (die room.

"Mistah Pen bury/ ’ he gasped. ".Wall now if this ain't a pleasure. l r ou do look some swell, by gosh, masquerading as a gentleman." "I want a word with you, nigger." "Seems as though you ain't learnt no manners, Mistah Pcnbury. What’s it this time? What's up again this lil'i feller?"

Without answering Penbuiy turned, nodding for him to follow. ’ An obsequious manager Showed them into a small private room; wished to send in some refreshment; seemed most anxious, to propitiate the visitor from Scotland Yard.

When they were at last alone Pen-, bury produced a cigarette case,’ tapped the cigarette in the approved manner and lit it, his eyes ever on Quincey, who grinned nervously. This dreadful man with his slow ' .mechanical ■movements, his never seeming in a hurry! There was a deadliness in his precision which rasped the negro’s nerves, an uncanny glare in his eye which awoke the slumbering superstitions of his race. Sucn men, in other far-off days, were ju-ju men, made medicine, smelled out witches, possessed the evil eye, destroyed cattle, damaged crops, wielded the powers of life and death. Had Quincey 'known anything of reincarnation he certainly would have believed in it now.

"Ain’t you never goin’ to leave me alone, Mistah Penbury?" "I’ve got Levita," was the answer. Q. started, but quickly remembering himself, smiled.

"That sounds good, the way you say it;, but who may he be?"

"And Noby Wang. I’ll be getting r ou next."

"Am I interested in the gen’lemen you was good enough to mention?"

BY CARLTON DAWE (Author 'Of “Desperate Love/- “Euryale iu Loudou,” “Virginia,” etc.)

“They’ll be leaving presently for their native land, provided with a Government escort to see them safely on their way:” ' . “That’s vurry interestin’.” .“Now don’t you think it about time vou paid that ” long-deferred ‘ visit to your old mammy in New York?” “Maybe it ain’t jSToo York; maybe it’s Noo Orlins.” . , “The place is immaterial. She must be anxious to see you?” “Guess that’s so. She s some mammy, Mistah Penbury; two hundred an’ ten pounds if an ounce, an’ still growinU” “You see, nigger ” “An’ if you please, not quite so much of your nigger; it don’t sound by no means good an’ respectful.” “This old country is not the sort Of place for a man of your amazing proclivities. It’s slow to catch on to new ideas; has a notion that it s got on pretty well so far without the aid of braggarts and pushers, and probably' will continue to amble along in its own dull way without their aid. Do you <r ot) nic “The Lord be my guide, but I don’t,’ ’ “Well, it’fs like this: if I were you 1 should make straight for the big blue water, and I shouldn’t rest for a moment till I felt it heaving under my feet. Also, I should wipe certain memories clean from my mind, certain memories and certain names. If you don’t, Brookham, I shall certainly have to tfke a hand in your regeneration.” “You confuse me, Mistah Penbury; my lil’ brain ain’t big enough to hold your moanin’.” “Well, think it over, and perhaps you’ll be able to stretch it wide enough. You know a place in the city called Finsbury Pavement?’’ “Never heard of it in all my lil life.”.

“Already that brain of yours is growing. ” .Tust one more piece of advice: don’t go in search of it; avoid it •vs you would the gates of Pentonville Prison. It’s not a good place for niggers. The nigger who has been there once, and doesn’t forget it, is looking for trouble of the most serious nature. Nobby Wang, Levita, Jimmy Wright son. Am Ito add Black Q. to the bunch?” “It don’t seem desirable. Got Jimmy, too, have you?” “Getting him; round them all up. “Some job.” “I" wait, hold out my lap, and they fall into it like ripe plums.” - “The plum that murdered Poppy • Wilton among ’em, I suppose?” ‘ ‘He is the surest of all. ’ ’

“Yore shore some character, Mistah Penbury. But see here, I ain’t done nothin’” as need worry me overmuch, an’ the Amurican eagle ain’t goin’ to be screamed down by a pa’cel o’ London sparrows. No, sah, he jes’ ain’t, havin’ some lil’ scream of his own.” “You may go now, nigger, and think over what I’ve said. In three .days you ought to be on the big blue water —unless you want me to notify the American police of your coming. Doubless they will be pleased to sec you again.” “As pleased as I should bo to see you in another place, Mistah Penbury. You shore talk mighty big, an’ look mighty big, but I seen fellers as big look mighty small at times; and I ain’~. goin’ to be skeered by no,frame-up or 1 Scotland Yard to shield the reel criminals with big bank-rolls. Sometimes the public want to know where them, bank-rolls goes, an’ sometimes folks don’t like answerin’. I work hardand’ honest, Mistah Penbury, as Pino in there can tell you, an’ I ain’t goin’; to be bullied by no swankin’ pleeeeman who ain’t standin’ too firm on his own feet. ”

Penbury, totally unperturbed by this outburst, or' the ugly scowlings which accompanied it, nonchalantly flicked the ash from his cigarette.

"Well, nigger, I’ve warned you; it's up to you to act on it." /‘Ain’t you ' jes’ the most merci-; fullest feller that ever trod shoe leather? Yore shore a saint, Mistah Perbury; the saintest pleeeeman that ever double-crossed an innocent man. I guess Scotland Yard’ll have to open its trunk of halos next time you come along." But -of a truth Quincey was not a little affected by this interview. Indeterminately he oscillated between fear and anger. What just had happened? Was it true that Nobby and Levita were in the hands of the police? If this were so that golden egg in Finsbury Pavement was likely to prove addled. As for this mocking policeman with liis insolent repetition of the offensive "nigger," he would, like to have had the, twisting of his neck; would have looked on at the process and showed his shark’s teeth in an approving grin. The thought Of a return to his native land did not appeal to him; the fiction of his dear ole mammy seemed a poor sort of joke. 1 As for the screaming of the American eagle, he preferred to. imagine it. In the distance it sounded good; over home it might scream at him in quite a reprehensible manner. There wasn’t a cent’s worth of patriotism or nationa 1 feeling in the police of any country. They' were all tarred with the same brush, and ought to be burnt alive. A sick, a much perturbed nigger, reluctantly returned to his duties in the jazz orchestra, and a few minutes later begged to be excused from a further participation in the uproar for that night. But once in the street his .physical energy seemed to • revive in miraculous fashion, due doubtless to the invigorating atmosphere. With a swift stride he crossed the river by Waterloo Bridge; plunged into a network of uninviting streets; mounted to the top of one of the many nondescript houses of the neighbourhood; knocked, signal-like, on a certain door, which being cautiously opened disclosed the cadaverous features of Mr;' .Tames Wrightsdn. * The erstwhile porter of .Parkgato Mansions had fallen on evil times. Dismissed from his lucrative and important post, doubtless owing to certain revelations of the police, who were notorious in their unceasing persecu tion of honest men, he was seeking a temporary respite from those ills to which honesty is peculiarly liable. With ruffled hair, unshaven cheeks, his trousers slipped on hastily, the braces hangr ing down behind, he contrasted unfavourably with the spruce, brass-bound' guardian of other days.

Most unfortunate' of men! In and out of season he bewailed his luck. If that little fool had only gone anywhere else to get murdered! But no, the thing must happen there, under his very nose, and bring the bluedbottles buzzing round. Of course Benbury was at the bottom of it, that inter-

fcring abortive crank. Dismissed without notice, without even a character; told ho was uncommonly lucky to escape so cheaply. Most unfortunate of men! . ~ . He hated .Penbury with a cold, cruel hate. Black Q.’s was as nothing to it; Black Q.’s was farcical by comparison. There was always an, air about the negro that mocked the tragic; even in moments of the gravest emergency he suggested the blatant Christy minstrel. One invariably saw him with a banjo, wide stripped cuffs, cheap diamonds, and a mouth from ear lo ear. His humour leavened the danger in him. Without it he would have l eeu a most formidable fellow. Not so with the ex-porter. He hadn't the smallest grain .of humour in his de plcrablc composition. Coldly unimaginative, he found no grace in life. He never laughed, never smiled even, except inwardly at thought of some cunning act by which he personally profited. In truth .he saw nothing much to laugh .at except fools, whom a benign .providence had kindly sent into the world for the exploitation of wise men. (To be continued.)