The Gay Adventurers

Taranaki Daily News, 16 October 1935, Page 13

The Gay Adventurers

By

Capt. E. C. Cox

(Author of “Achievements of John Carruthers, ’ etc., etc.)

CHAPTER SEVEN (continued)

A number of guests had arrived. There were engine-drivers, stokers carrying wisps of cotton-waste in their hands, signal-men, guards, ticket-collectors, attendants on refreshment cars, and barmaids. But the majority were passengers waiting for the special train to be marshalled. Some carried golf clubs, tennis racquets and fishing rods; others held neat bundles o'f rugs, overcoats and umbrellas. They all manifested signs of impatience at the delay of their special. “What the blazes is the meaning of this?” shouted a big man in plus fours of an alarming pattern, “Where’s the blinking train? Is the d—d thing never coming?" “Non-stop!” cried a wouldbe” smart but only flashy girl. “I should think it was a non-stop.” “A bit of a washout,” ejaculated a callow youth. “Too thick altogether.” And the babble of indignant voices grew louder and louder. “What a lot of bounders,” whispered Bingo to Sally. ‘Of both sexes,” she replied in the same tone. “Odi profanum vulgus,” thought Bingo, who still remembered his Horace. “Ladies and gentlemen, silence for the station-master,” shouted the police inspector who had taken the guests’ invitation cards, and Mr. Woolcombe, holding up his hand, addressed the throng. “Ladies and gentlemen," he said, “I am exceedingly sorry to say that the special train is declared off, but as representing the directors I am authorised to tell you that the Company will do their best to make up for your disappointment.” He waved his hand and at one end of the room a curtain was drawn back, and on a balcony a string band burst into a lively air. At the same time at the opposite side of the room the wall slid open, and there was seen a bar behind which waiters stood ready to dispense Martinis, Sidecars, Manhattans and a host of other cocktails, while half a dozen waitresses, in green and white, went to and fro amongst the guests bearing similar refreshments with wafers and delicate pastries on silver trays. A wild outburst of cheering followed on this transformation scene. “By Jove, the old boy is going it!” remarked a lively stoker. “Top-hole, isn t it? a stylish maiden, and ‘An A.l show, exclaimed a jovial ticket-collector. But this was only the prologue. A little later a voice like a megaphone shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand at the sides for a moment,” and a dozen porters entered carrying light chairs which they placed in rows across the room. Beneath the balcony where the band was playing, a sliding panel shot aside, and on a stage a galaxy of Russian ballet dancers, stood ready to display their accomplishments when the guests had taken their seats. The ballet was watched eagerly, and deafening applause followed its conclusion. A succession of acrobats, conjurors and buffoons appeared in rapid succession, and then the megaphone voice' announced that dancing would now begin. The porters re-entered and removed the chairs, and dance after dance succeeded. Once the band struck up an- old-time valse, and Bingo .and Sally instinctively joined in. “This is heavenly, Sally.” whispered Bingo as they floated round. “It’s a dream,” she said, “I could dance for ever with you, dear,” and she pressed his hand in reply. The music ceased and there was a fanfare of trumpets. The door' marked Refreshments” was thrown open and the loudvoiced official shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen, supper awaits you.” Followed an instant stampede into the supper-room where tables were laden with every kind of, delicacy. The popping of champagne corks resounded through the room, and the babble of voices was well nigh deafening. After supper there was more dancing. It is so very late that we may call it early by and by,” said Sally to Bingo. “Thats about it, old dear, but there’ll be time for our part of the show before long. I’ve picked up some useful information here.”

At long last all the guests, except Bingo and Sally, had drifted away, though the whoops of departing revellers echoed through the startled square. Mr. Woolcombe was standing at the entrance doorway looking and feeling exceedingly pleased with himself. The show had gone off splendidly. Everyone had thanked him profusely for the most gorgeous night they had ever had. He looked forward to seeing in the papers crisp little paragraphs about Mr. Woolcombe s wonderful railway cocktail party, with descriptive notes thereof in the most picturesque and up-to-date journalese. He had riot for the moment observed that two of his guests were still remaining. “Now, old thing,” said Bingo, and he and Sally went up to their host. “I congratulate you on the success of your cocktail party, Mr. Woolcombe,” Bingo commenced. “How can you think of such a succession of novelties?” asked Sally. He turned and smilingly bowed. “A thousand apologies. I had no idea that any of my guests were still here.” “I wanted very much to have a little talk with you about old times, you know,” said Bingo. "But it was difficult when all those bright young people were having their fling. But now, perhaps, you might give me a few minutes.” “The night is yet young. I was just thinking of a spot, of whisky before bed. I never touch cocktails myself. Will you and your good lady join me?” “Delighted,” said Bingo, and “May I suggest a cup of coffee for myself?” requested Sally. Woolcombe pointed to a table and chairs in a cosy comer, and called for drinks and cigarettes, and they sat down together. “So you really thing it went off all right?” He looked at Sally. “A very taking sort of girl,” he reflected. “Who the deuce are they?” “It’s been the most wonderful show I’ve ever seen. Did you think of all this by yourself, or was there some Egeria in the background to inspire you?” He had not the faintest idea what she meant by Egeria, but that did not trouble him. “My dear lady,” he said, “it’s like the. white knight in ‘Alice in Wonderland,’ it’s all my own invention. I apologise for its imperfections.” “ ‘And still the wonder grew that one small head could carry all he knew.’ Quotations seem in the air,” Sally said. “But tell me what made you think of it all?”

“Well, 1 think I can explain that one sees little odds and ends in the' papers now and then about making London brighter. Then one day I was in the waiting-room of a big London terminus, arid the general effect ofi it was infinitely depressing. It occurred to me that by way of making London brighter a beginning might rie made with the awful waiting-rooms. Why not have music and little variety shows on a miniature stage, and a bar, nice furniture, cheerful curtains and $0 on. Then I thought why shouldn’t I show them how it might be done. That’s how it came about. But I don’t suppose there will be any follow my leader.” “That’s terribly interesting,” said Sally. “1 don’t see why it shouldn’t take on. Can’t you work it in some way? Stir up a lot of sleepy unenterprising directors. It might make railways pay again. Oh, do try!” “It’s very nice to hear your appreciation. But old custom dies hard.”

“Waiting-rooms aren’t the only things that want brightening up,” said Bingo.

Sally was closely watching him. For ail his suave and polite demeanour she saw a glint in his eye, and she knew that that glint meant business. “Look at the Law Courts,” he went on. “The very sight of them is enough to reduce a prisoner- in the dock to despair, even if he is absolutely innocent. ‘All hope abandon ye who enter here’ might stand as their motto. Why not brighten them up? Impart some idea of cheerfulness. It’d give a prisoner a chance. Then look at the House of Commons. What an atmosphere! If anything wants brightening up that does. It’s pessimism and helplessness written large.” “A woman’s' hand is needed,” said Sally. “Full powers and carte blanche to make everything brighter; not to make speeches, but to dp things.” “I see great possibilities in this direction,” said Woolcombe. “Then there are the hospitals,"- continued ' Bingo. “You see a ward with rows and rows of beds, and nothing cheerful to stimulate a patient’s recovery. All drab and dreary, and depressing. Think how all this could be improved. It could be altered beyond recognition. Now the London Central Hospital is, in sad need of funds. They want a hundred thousand pounds for alterations and improvements. When they get the money they would probably be the slaves of the same old barbarous fashion. What a chance fc.- some wealthy man to provide a considerable portion of the funds needed, and at the same time get them to recreate the building on these brighter lines.” - Mr. Woolcombe’s self-satisfied expression changed sharply to a look of grim displeasure. “I don’t think I altogether'follow you. Mr.-Mr.-?” “Smith,” said Bingo. “I thought, Mr. Smith, you wanted to talk about old times. Were you pulling my leg? I’m afraid I am rather mystified.” “You’ll soon be enlightened. At the present moment you come nearer to violent correction than you are aware of. You are going to listen to me for a minute or two.” ■» “Your remarks are insufferable. Who the devil are you/ and what are you talking about? You can leave my house at once.”

“There you are wrong. I shall leave this house when I choose, and when my business- with you is completed.” “You must be mad, or drunk. I shall have you turned out straight away. And he stood up to call a servant. “Sit you down,” said Bingo in a commanding voice, as he drew an automatic from his pocket. “I don’t want to make a mess on your polished floor, but if you call out or raise any alarm I shall let daylight through you. Keep quiet and listen to me, and you won’t be hurt.”

Woolcombe was helpless. He sat down. “Is this blackmail or robbery?” he gasped. “It’s neither. It’s only justice. Now, you listen. As a matter of fact I am going to do you a good turn, though incidentally you are going to do a good turn to certain other people. This is the point. Before the war you were employed in a boot factory in the Midlands. You had brains and push, and you became manager at an early age. When the war broke out you seized your opportunity. You instantly started a business of your own, and became a profiteer on a vast scale. You supplied hundreds of thousands of pairs of boots every month, and countless other things; you made a princely fortune while we poor devils struggled on in the trenches.” “What would you have done in the trenches without my boots?” interjected Woolcombe.

“They were damned bad poots. When the war came to an end it was a bitter disappointment to you. You prayed for it to go on. What did you care for, us? You have never been anything but a mass of selfishness. Then you took this ducal mansion and thought you. would cut a dash in London society. In this you have signally failed. You have given your beastly night-club entertainments through your love of notoriety and adulation, and gathered round you a lot of silly toadies and sycophants who wouldn’t move .their little fingers if .they saw you starving in the street. You give nothing whatever to charity. What good have you done to anyone, even to your beastly self? Now, before I leave this house you will give me a cheque for ’five thousand pounds payable to the Central London Hospital. Then there will be a laudatory paragraph in the papers about the munificent bequest of the well known philanthropist Mr. Thomas Woolcombe, and if you keep yourself before the public in this way you will soon find yourself moving in higher circles—tea with duchesses and that sort of thing. But you must drop these tom-fool night-club shows. That’s enough talk. Now, where’s the way to your cheque book?” "Follow me,” said Woolcombe, and led the way to the door marked “Stationmaster.” The three entered a comfortably furnished office. Woolcombe went to a large table and seated himself behind it, pointing as he did so to two chairs in front of this table. Bingo and Sally sat down, Bingo holding his automatic in front of him in case any stimulant were needed. Woolcombe leisurely unlocked a drawer. He took out a cheque book and displayed it ostentatiously in his left hand. He still fumbled with his right, and in a moment Bingo felt a sharp pang of pain as a searing flame leaped out and a revolver bullet passed through the fleshy part of his left arm. Quick as lightning Sally stood in front of Bingo, seized the automatic from his quivering right hand, and a bullet whistled past Woolcombe’s ear. “Put that pistol down.” commanded Sally, and a bullet hissed past his other ear. “Put it down, or next time I shoot to kill.” He saw determination and fury in her face. What could he do? He could not fire at a woman, and she was in front of the Hateful man. He put down his pistol. “That’s better,” she cried. “Now take it up by the muzzle end and hand it to me, or I fire.” He was impotent. He meekly obeyed. Sally set the weapon down, well out of his reach. “Don’t you dare move or I’ll shoot you dead.” Then she turned to Bingo. “Are you much hurt, darling?” she asked tenderly.

“I’ll be all right in a minute, old dear. It was just the shock. It’s only a flesh wound. You were simply magnificent. Lots of men have got a V.C. for less. But do something for me. I never touched that drink, but 1 want it now. Can you get :t? Give me the automatic. I can hold it over this wily bird while you’re away. It’s where we were sitting-” , , , , She fetched the whisky and lx drank it eagerly. “That’s better,” he said as he put down the glass. “It was a bit of a shock.” With the reviving drink Sally had brought the white cloth that had covered the little table. She took up a pair of scissors that was lying on the office table. She slit up Bingo’s sleeve, tore off a strip from the tablecloth and bandaged up the wound, and with another strip made a sling for his arm. “A thousand thanks, Sally dear,” he said as she finished. “Now I can tackle this swine.

“Look here,” he said to Woolcombe, “there’s no time for talk. I was going to touch you for seven thousand. Now you’ll write one cheque payable to the

hospital for five thousand and one payable .to the bearer for five thousand. If you stop those cheques, or make the slightest attempt to find out who cashed the one to bearer, it’ll be a case of ‘no flowers by request.’ Look sharp, I want to get home.” Woolcombe perforce signed the cheques and handed them to Bingo, who put them in his pocket. “Now,” he said, “order your car for us.” Woolcombe spoke into a telephone, and in a few moments a sleepy butler appeared. “Order the Morris-Cowley,” he said, and ip an unexpectedly short time it was announced. “Put us down by Harrods stores,” said Bingo to the chaqffeur, and to Sally, “I can foot it from there.” “Oh, Birigo,” she said as they drove along, “I am so sorry about your poolarm, but apart from that this has been a great adventure. And won’t the hospital rejoice?” “Sally, darling, the popular idea is that angels have wings; but I know one that is without those appendages.” (To be continued).