Barbara On Her Own

Taranaki Daily News, 5 July 1929, Page 9

Barbara On Her Own

By

EDGAR WALLACE

“Pin sorry, Mr. Colesberg, but I’ve had a wire from your firm saying that you’re no longer connected with the business and that we’re to take no orders from you,” was the reply. “We tried to call you up to ask you if this was so. Is it a fact?” For a second Julius was tempted to issue an official denial, but his heart failed him. “Quite true,” he mumbled, and huirg up the receiver. “We’ll wait till to-night,” said Mr. Attennan hopefully, but Julius felt less inclined for the adventure than ever. CHAPTER XIV. When Mrs. Maber left the premises occupied by her husband’s business, she called a cab and had herself . conveyed to Marble Arch. She did not alight when she reached that venue, but beckoned a shabby little man who had been perambulating up and down the sidewalk for the past half-h&ur, an object of suspicion to the point constable. She opened the door and he jumped in. “Well, did. you get it?” he asked eagerly. “I got a hundred,” said the woman, and the face of Air. Hammett, the solicitor, fell. “A hundred’s a hundred —I didn’t expect to get that.” “Did you tell her about the motor car?” asked Mr. Hammett, as she fumbled in her bag for the cheque. “I told her about the motor car and wanting to go abroad,” said the woman. “I think 1 was a fool not to tell the truth at first. Have you got the tickets?” He nodded gloomily. “A hundred’s no more use to me than a kick in the neck,” said Mr. Hammett without elegance. “I’ve got twenty-five judgments out against me, and this time I’m going off the rolls—sure! If you’d only stuck out, you’d have got the five hundred.”

“I was scared io death,” confessed the woman. “That girl’s got an eye like a hawk. And why you should think she was pretty, God knows!” “What’s this ?” asked Hammett with a frown as she handed him the slip of paper. “It’s a cheque, make payable to bearer.”

Made payable to you —to Margaret Maber, you'fool!” he said roughly. “You can’t cash this.”

“Why not?” sho gasped. “Because if you do, they’ll pinch you for forgery —that’s why!” stormed the man. “You great simpleton, why didn’t you get money—real money?” The lady who for fifteen years, and ever since she had graced the saloon bar of the Grown and Anchor in the Waterloo Road, had been Mrs. Hammett (and she had her marriage lines to. prove it) began to weep softly.

“It is the best idea that I’ve ever struck. You could have got five hundred —you could have got a thousand out of her, if you’d had the brains of a gnat!” raved the little man. “I’ll have the railway tickets dated for to-morrow. You go up and see her; -we’ll cash both cheques together. We might as well bo hung for a sheep as a lamb. And, anyway, the old boy wouldn’t prosecute,” he added, brightening up. “He’s doing a month in ‘stir’ and he won’t want to advertise the fact.”

“Why not cash this to-day?” she asked, shaking the slip, “No, we won’t make two bites at one cherry. Both cheques have got to come out together. I’ll fix a yarn for you that ought to draw a thousand—what’s more it will bo true.”

And Mr, Hammett, who Jmd mixed law and blackmail all his life, and diluted both practices with neat whiskey, unfolded his plan. This was a memorable day in the life of Barbara Storr.' Frozn time to time she pushed up the window of her office and leaned out to observe the crowd. All Bayswater was there, and Pimlico and West Kensington—to say nothing of Balham, Lewisham and Kilburn. The Londoner has a keen scent for a bargain, and where Barbara had decided to sell at five per cent, above cost, and in some cases at two per cent, above cost, she had introduced cuts and changes of a most startling and attractive character. That blessed man, Alan Stewart, had ■begged or borrowed eighty “ ’bus sides.” The failure of two plays simultaneously had left space for the brief announcement, “Staggering Reductions at Maber’s Sale.” The omnibuses bearing this bill begun to be observable that afternoon. Tho sandwich-board men had been perambulating tho busy streets since early morning. Alan called and was consulted as to the window display. Barbara Iqtd cleared one window-, and in this she intended to put something which would gather the crowds more densely, and could not fail to produce the inevitable summons for obstruction.

“It ought to be something alive and moving,” said Barbara, “What about a lion?”

“A what?” said Alan aghast. “You can hire tame lions. Maudie Deane got acquainted with a lion-tamer at one of her vaudeville shows. She says that you cun get lions that will eat out of your hand.” 110 shoo!: hi-, head. “I don’t think so; you might frighten the people. And beside, it would take you weeks to get a proper cage fitted.” He went away to investigate, and eventually got into touch by telephone with a showman’s agent. “I’ve the very thing—a Wild Man from Borneo! In fact, I’ve got a couple on my books,” said the agent. “That’s an ancient idea.”

‘‘People like ancient ideas,” said the agent truly. "And. besides, these fellows haven't had an engagement in London for years, and it might be a bit of a novelty.” By the time Alan reached the agent’s office, the two wild men had dwindled to one, the less desirable man having found an engagement that morning. There was half an hour’s wait before the showman’s emissary had rounded up Okko. He had been, discovered in tho bar, and was slightly intoxicated, Alan thought. ’Below middle height, a wild tangle of hair, and a heard that seemed to sprout in all directions made ■him a fearsome and terrifying object. Low-browed, with eyes that twinkled savagely, he waved his long and hairy arms in protest when the project was put before him. ‘TH do anything in town, but I won’t do a shop window cat,” he eaid in a shrill Cockney voice. "When you said ‘London,’ I thought you meant the halls. The idea of me lowering my dignity by sitting in ft shop window, it can’t be done I"

“Now, listen, Okko,” said Mr. Lazarus, soothingly, “this is certain to get you a big engagement. We’ve turned down every other wild man, and there are dozens —”

“There are only two,” said Okko, sulkily, “and Bill Miles has got an engagement with the Wild prairies Circus

outfit, they’re starring him as a prehistoric man. Don’t try any of that stuff with mo. It’s lowering the profession, and I’m not going to do it.”

“Liste i to him, He’s only kidding,” said Mr. Lazarus, admiringly. “Okko’s the biggest man in his business. He was the son of the original wild man from Borneo —”

“Grandson,” growled Okko. “My grandfather invented the business, The only difference is, he was supposed to come from Java and I come from Rikitiki, where I live in the branches of the tall trees eating nuts,” ho recited rapidly, “undistinguished by the ignorant peasantry from the furry denizens of the woods. I was captured in my infancy by Dikiditchi, the celebrated Russian explorer, who spent three years in the impenetrable jungles and malariastricken swamps in ’his endeavour to secure for Europe the first authenticated link between the lower animals and that cultured product of civilisation — Man' ”

“Do you hear him?” asked Lazarus, in an ccstacy. “Got the patter and everything! Now, Okko, do me a turn and accept this engagement. It’s only for a week, and twenty-five pounds—” “’Twenty-five pounds?” screamed Okko, ferociously. “I wouldn’t do it under forty!” “Book him,” Alan Stewart closed the deal promptly, and Okko put his signature to tiw letter in which he agreed, for the sum of £4O per week, plus the revenue acquired from the sale of his picture postcards, plus two hours’ rest per diem, and a three-course lunch with beer, to appear in the window of Messrs. Maber and Maber. Alan Stewart went back to tell Barbara what he had done. “You’d better explain to these girls downstairs that Okko is a perfectly harmless individual, with a wife and a family, and that he spends his spare time knitting jumpers.” This information was immediately conveyed to the interested staff, and Barbara pushed forward the preparation of the window. A signwriter was called in, a scene painter made a 'hurried, but effective background representing a primeval forest, and above the window appeared the announcement that on the morrow would appear in the window, “Okko, the Great and Original Wild Man of Borneo,, captured by that great Russian scientist, Professor Dikiditchi.” Mr. Attennan walked across the road to read the announcement over the heads of the crowd, shook his head and went back. “That’s vulgar, if ever there was vul"aritv,” he said. “Mahers must have gone mad. Where's Minkey I ’ Mr. Minkey, weary-eyed and exhausted, dragged himself from his chair to answer the summons. He had been up all night, and he was aching for tae comfort of a soft pillow and solitude. “What’s our display this week, Mmkey2’’ . -i “A ’girl working a hand-loom, sain Minkey. “A girl working a hand-loom!” sneered his employer. “What kind of attraction is that? You’ve allowed this woman to get ahead of you again. There’ll be a crowd in front of her shop to-morrow thatTi hold up the road traffic.” “What is she getting?” growled the more dead than alive wire.

“The Wild Man of Borneo. It’s an old stunt, but they love old stunts in London. Why couldn’t you think of that, you poor boob? Now rustle something for to-morrow.” CHAPTER XV. That afternoon a stout constable came up to Barbara’s bureau, stopped for a moment and asked P. C. Albuhera how George was, and, receiving a comforting assurance, camo helmetlcss to the desk and handed Barbara a paper. “It’s a summons, miss, for obstruction,” he said, beaming as though it was the greatest joke in the world, and went out to consult Mr. Albuhera as to whether he thought Harry would ever come back to duty, or was tho rheumatism permanent. They had friends in common, it seemed. Her staff were fagged, ready to drop. Barbara gave orders that the store was to be closed at five instead of six, and notices to this effect -were hastily written and exhibited in every department.

“All the earth will be here after the models to-morrow,” she told Mr. Mark. “I want everybody to be bright and fresh when the doors open.” Tho money received up to three o’clock had been hanked. By the time Maber and Maber turned its unwilling customers into tho street, another vast sum had accumulated. It was eight o’clock before the money was finally counted and put in tho cafe. There remained advertisement proofs to be passed; yet, though she had spent fourteen of tho most strenuous hours of her life, Barbara was fresh and wakeful when she at last reached Doughty Street, attended by tho faithful Alan. “If Maber doesn’t give you a partnership after this,” said Alan, when they parted, “lie’s a slug! You’ve put fifty per cent, on to tho value of the business - —by tho end of this week they'll be offering you a quarter of a million. By Jove!” he said enthusiastically, “for two pins I’d leave the advertising business, and you and I would start a store that'd knock ’em dead!”

“If you propose to me, I shall change my agent,” warned Barbara, and left him without the power of retort. She went to bed early, but could not sleep. At tho back of her mind were two troubles, one of which centred round Mr. Maber'e bag, and the other those neat little parcels of money stacked at the back of the safe. What a haul for a burglar, she thought, and decided to increase the. number of nightwatchmen, being by no means sure of the energy and enterprise of the elderly gentleman who had slept for forty-nine years in his capacity of night watchman for Maber and Maher.

Sho lay wide awake, staring into the darkness, and at last she could endure her restlessness no longer, and getting up, turned on the lights. From rising to dressing was but a step. The snores, of Myrtle camo from the little back room, and without disturbing her servitor, Barbara crept down the stairs arid

hurried into Theobalds Road in sen'rch of a taxi, j No two- more unwilling burglars ever set forth on their mission of profit and discovery than Mr. Julius Colesberg and the weary and reluctant assistant, “It is a pretty ticklish job, Attennan,” ho complained. ' “I mean, it puts me in a wholly false position -suppose the night watchman —” “Suppose nothing,” said Mr. Attennan, who wasn’t running a risk, any way. He dug his eibow into Mr. Minkey s back, and the Live Wire, who was sleeping on his feet, blinked himself awake. “Go and get that bag,” said Mr. Atterman imperiously, and the two men went forth. A taxi set them down -within a block of Mahers, and after five minutes’ delay, during which time by the united efforts of Julius and the cabman, Mr. Minkey ! was shaken into semi-consciousness, they made for tho store. The staff entrance was in Lawton Street at the back of the shop, and at this hour, when even Marlborough Avenue was deserted, Lawton Street was a place of the dead. A church bell struck two as Julius, with a trembling hand, fitted tho passkey in the lock. He opened the door stealthily; a light burnt in the passage and in the night watchman’s little office.

Julius went suddenly pale, and his heart thumped painfully. The watchman was in his cubby hole! He sat before a table, his arms outstretched, his head resting ungracefully on his elbow, and he wan emitting sounds which could be heard through the glass partition. “He’s asleep,” whispered Julius hoarsely. “Good luck to him!” murmured Mr. Minkey, who was swaying to and fro. Julius gripped his arm and they tiptoed past the watchman’s office, and up a short flight of stone stairs which brought them to the’ground floor level. Thereafter, all was plain sailing,- and though Mr. Minkey, in his extreme langour, stumbled once or twice, they reached the office door without mishap. (To be continued).