CHRISTMAS BURGLAR

Te Awamutu Courier, Volume 53, Issue 3846, 16 December 1936, Page 3

CHRISTMAS BURGLAR

(By James Pollard.) “I know a crib worth crackin'. Suit you down to the ground, I’d say.” Monsen eyed his table mate speculatively. Slim Trenehard’s lean face was quizzical as he met the glance. He was thankful that save for an attendant busy at the far end of the bar they were alone in the room. It was a little disconcerting to be approached as an equal by one who followed the profession on a lowly plane. Monsen hobnobbed with pickpockets, smash-and-grab men, petty pilferers. “You mistake me, son,” he answered lightly. “I sail to-night on the Oriba for South America, as purser’s assistant.” “Purser’s assistant!” Monsen leered over his glasses. “You'll hold that down ail right, takin’ pickings on the way, eh? The game’s too risky on shipboard for me —no room for a getaway. This show of mine’s easier. Think about it. You can go to sea afterward.” His gaze became appreciative. “I guess I know a cracksman when I see one. You dress well.” Complimentary, but . . . Slim thought it was time lie dressed better. Grim thinking, when lie was down to his last shilling, and very nearly decided on that holiest job, offered by a friend of other days now bossing men on the Oriba. “There’s nothing doing, Monsen,” he replied as lie selected a cigarette. “I’m straight. Wonder why you picked me.” The other grinned. “We’ve met a few times at this pub. We’ve talked. I've spotted you walkin’ parts o’ Melbourne like you was watchin’ places. You don’t work. An’ if you’ve got friends, nobobdy knows ’em.” Monsen returned his companion’s amused gaze knowingly. “Well, if you like playin’ a lone hand, more power to you. But I s’pose a tip’s worth having. If not, I’ll take it elsewhere. I’d give a deal to know Mrs Eversden’s home was bein’ burgled tonight. She fired me this afternoon.” Slim waited silently. “Fired—an’ to-night is Christinas Eve! A week’s work I had from her, and she missed a few spoons. You’d think a rich woman wouldn't bother to miss ’em so near Christmas. “She’s got a nice lookin’ tree in tlie sitting room. Toys for the two kids, oh yes; but more. Eversden’s putting a fifty guinea bracelet on that tree tonight—just a brown paper parcel with his wife’s name written on it. What'll she put on for him? One o’ the little girls’s gifts is a gold bangle worth a tenner, and’ —look you, that tree’s worth a hundred quid easy, an’ all a man has to do is to walk in an’ collect it. There’s only the family home, an' the servants. They’re not goin’ to have their show to-night; they’re puttin’ tile kids to bed early, to give Santa Claus an open go; an’ they’ll make merry to-morrow. What about it?” Slim was laughing. He needed a hundred pounds desperately. He felt that he was laughing it away. “No, Monsen.” He relished the look of disappointment in the other man’s eyes. “If I were a cracksman, I’d not be wanting to rob kiddies of their Christmas.” Monsen shrugged. "Well —have another drink.” Slim nodded. They drank, and parted without further talk. As he went his way, Monsen had no misgivings as to the wisdom of having revealed the crib to Trenchant He had reason enough to maintain his conviction that Trenchard was all that he judged him to be; and that

peculiar honour which rules among thieves was Monsen’s safeguard. And Slim as lip took a different path was deciding that Monsen’s tip was worth something to him. “Don’t stay awake too long, or Father Christmas may pass by.” Molly Evcrsden smiled down at her two children in their beds. "Nightnight.” A little later she admonished her husband not to stir from bis room while she paid a last visit to the tree, and, running lightly to her boudoir, made her way thence to the sitting room, carrying sundry packages. Within the room she closed the door and stood for a few moments admiring the brightly ornamented and decorated tree which was planted lie fore her in a paper wrapped tub. A cheering tree it was, in shape perfectly symmetrical, reaching out beyond the tub to occupy most of the centre of tlie room, narrowing evenly as it rose almost to the ceiling; and vividly warmly green under the flooding light. Festooned with glittering tinselware and hung with gleaming toys looking all the prettier for tlie contrast of dull-dued if intriguing paper parcels pendant among them; it wanted only an attendant red-robed and white-whiskered figure to reflect its glory and complete its appeal. She moved smiling to the tree and affixed the gifts she brought, enjoying for a few minutes pleasant anticipations of the morrow. Though Monsen had not known, friends young and old were expected for Christmas Day, and the value of the gifts on the tree exceeded a hundred pounds. She stepped back and paused for a iast inspection. Then became aware of a cool draught as from an open window. Heard a slight disturbing noise behind her. And turned. Slim watched, his face immobile. Surprise, fear, anger and contempt passed in swift succession across her face, and then with a sharp intake of breath she stepper! forward, her glance becoming piercing. “Dick ah!" It was a whisper. “I always felt that j'ou would come back. But why ?” "Molly. Dick Rhowning is dead. Hear that first. The note which he left in bis cabin when he went overboard from the Wintery established his death. He will never come back. You need never worry. I am glad that you married Eversden. Dick is gone from your life—he need never .be even a ghost.” He was silent a moment, his glance straying to the tree, then he smiled whimsically. "If that tree were not yours—Oh, well, the weakness for which you used to despise me and which made you regret our marriage, is still mine.” “You came to rob?” She looked astonished. “No—but to tell you that Monsen, whom you recently employed, and discharged to-day, is seeking someone to break in on you this night. You’d better send around to Sidniouth’s agency for men to guard this tree. Hhve you realised it’s value? “That is all. Good-bye.” She started —followed him to the window; touched his arm; and was silent as he turned and steadily met her gaze. "Can I—is there nothing one can do—to help?” He shook his head, smiling. "No, Molly. The chances are I go on as I’ve always done. I like tlie game. But if it’s good news to you, I take an honest job to-night. Whether I’ll keep it long—who knows?” He shrugged, and then gave her another reassuring glance, “it will take me to the other side of the earth.” He passed out into the gloom. She looked down into the shadows

of the garden. The shadows hid him. She heard his whispered “Merry Christmas!” come up to her. And withdrew, sighing, and closed the window.