KNOWN TO THE POLICE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 18949, 21 February 1925, Page 1 (Supplement)

KNOWN TO THE POLICE.

AGE AND RESPECTABILITY.

BY EBJIUND BEATJCIIAMI\

Asa man grows older he finds himself in better odour with the police. I am no 0. Henry; my connection with the police has always been very slight; I have never been to gaol, except as a visitor, though there are probably persons who think I have been very lucky in this respect, and I am fain to confess that time was when I seemed about to descend to this Avernus. I was scarcely more than a youth, and was temporarily engaged editing a small local paper in a Ear Western State of America. A convention was being held in a neighbouring town, and I was in attendance on behalf of my paper. The leading hotel was crowded so T shared a room with another guest who, strange to say, bore my name, though lie varied the spelling of it by one letter. One day, after lunch, as I sat writing in this room, the door was flung open, a tall, robust, man appeared, and 1 found myself covered by a Pronouncing my name, lie said; "Got you at last." I expostulated, explained, entreated. all to no purpose, tor he slipped on the handcuffs and said : "Come aioii" with me." 1 went, but down in the hail I fortunately met the landlord, who assured the policeman that be had got hold of the wrong man. Very, very reluctantly, with black and regretful looks, he released me, arid I returned to my work, but I feel certain that only the circumstance of securing the right man later in the day, and his subsequent, conviction, effaced from the mind of that policeman his dark suspicions concerning my guilt. Shadowed. Several years passed before _ f was again brought into contact with the police. This time the scene was Liverpool. I had landed from America, had been three days domiciled at my father s residence on the Dee Banks at Chester, arid had returned to the port on the Mersey to transact business and spend the day. As I passed out of the station I observed a well-dressed man who bore a most singular likeness to our present King. So greatly struck was I by the resemblance that I stared hard at this man as I emerged from the platform. Half ari hour later I saw him again, and not long after once more encountered him.

After several of these rencontres I became convinced that he was shadowing me, so I laid a trap, and ere long was doubly certain that I was being followed. All that day be dogged my footsteps, and, when evening came, and 1 crossed tin; ferry to Birkenhead, and entered an empty first-class carriage of the Chester train, he presently followed. Neither of us spoke, but when the train arrived at her destination I got out. walked along City Road, turned into Boughton, and presently took tho road that led to the Dee Banks.

I was not many chains from home when he overtook me and asked for a match, which I gave him. Did I live on the Dee banks? Oh yes, T was the son D f . mentioning my father. The cigarette fell from his fingers, he sat down on a grassy knoll, and 1 thought he would have wept. "I am DetectiveInspector Charles M , the official interpreter of the Liverpool police. Your father is my next-door neighbour. He thinks I am an insurance inspector, as do all rov neighbours. I have been following you all day. I thought you were an absconding German private secretary, who has stolen his mistress' jewels and robbed bis master. Count .

Listen to this description. It's you to Hie life, foreign-cut clothes, hat, and all.' Charley and I became firm friends. Indeed, inv mother used to declare it a shame that, we did not. sleep together, since bed was the only thing that ever parted us. He was literary, and I collaborated. In due course I became well known to the Liverpool police, and in the end, after they had caught the •Secretary, was regarded by them with only slight suspicion. Disregarding the Evidence.

But now, gentle reader, observe the change which time bath wrought. Last spring I went to . On Sunday I attended a certain church in that city, and both before and after the service was in one of the. vestries. That night the church was entered by burglars, who rifled that particular vestry. Two later the room next to mine at the hotel where I stayed was entered, two suit cases were emptied, and a large quantity of women's clothing was taken. When I learned of the robbery, I immediately went down to the office, where I found two burly detectives, to whom T explained that I bad been present at the, desecrated church on Sunday, and was located in the room next to that in which the hotel robbery bad occurred. When 1 held out my bands to them and explained that such circumstantial evidence was not to be lightly ignored, thev both grinned, and one of them said: "You run away and play. We don't want you." For a brief moment, I felt quite, hurt, but I reflected that, my reputation with the police had undoubtedly improved during the twenty years that had elapsed since my last encounter with them, and this comforted me quite a good deal. In Good Odour With tho Police. But all this is as nothing when compared with the odour of respectability that pervades me at present. They are laying down new drains in our borough, and just opposite my house have tapped the water pipe, screwing into it a 3ft. length of pipe surmounted by a brass tap. One night last week someone unscrewed that pipe, with the. result that, we were without water, and it was not until the next, morning that- wo ascertained tho cause.

I informed a borough official, who professes to be a friend of mine, of the circumstance. After making inquiries he met mc with an air of suspicion. He stated that as I was tho only person who appeared to know anything about, the matter, and as it. was known that .1 bad returned home late on the night of the robbery, it. was clear that the police should search my house for the missing pipe and tap. That very evening, on my way home at a late hour, I had the misfortune to encounter a journalistic person of my acquaintance, who, next, day, referred to what he unkindly described as my habit of "prowling about tho neighbourhood late at night." This description alarmed me, for it seemed to connect me with Ihe missing pipe and tap, and when, next, day, during my absence from home, the policeman called for information concerning the theft, I felt that over mo hung the shadow of a terrible doom. However, I gripped my courage and called that policeman up on the plione. I was cautious. Could he- identify that pipe and tap if he found it? No. he could not. A feeh;:g of inexpressible relief invaded my breast. I said: "You are at liberty to come over" —he lives only a few doors away—"and search my house and garden. You may even, if you wish, turn over the beds." I awaited his answer in an agony of suspense, but the only rely that cut the silence was a peal of sardonic laughter. I made another frantic effoit, calling his attention to certain incriminating circumstances, and attempting to reason with him, but all this only caused him to laugh tnoro immoderately than before—and if you once start an Irishman laughing you can do nothing with him. So j have rather gladly conie to the conclusion that, whatever some, other folk may think of me, advancing years have brought me into better odottx with, the £>olice.