THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ALONZA

Star (Christchurch), Volume XLIV, Issue 364, 4 March 1932, Page 11

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ALONZA

By

PETER CHEYNEY.

No. 0. SOLD! Chief Inspector McCarthy, busy at his desk in his private office in Scotland Yard, looked up as his subordinate entered. “What is it, Glase?” he asked. “Won look excited.” “So I am, chief,” replied Glass. “Look here, you remember Striker, the man who nsed to do all sorts of odd jobs for MacTavish? Well, lie’s downstairs — says that he has something of importance to tell you.’.’ McCarthy chewed the end of his cigar. “So he’s going to give Alonzo MacTavish away, is he?” he ruminated. ‘‘l’ve heard that there’s been some sort of bad blood between them lately. Still, I’m surprised. MacTavish is usually pretty careful in the selection of the men with whom he works. There are only two men that he really trusts—Lon Ferrers and Striker. Well, I’ll see Striker. If he’s going to give me some information that will enable me to get my hands on MacTavish, I’ll be obliged to' him. I’ve had enough of that gentleman. Show Striker in, Glass.” Two minutes later Inspector Glass reentered the room, and motioned the man who followed him to a chair in front of McCarthy’s desk. Striker, a fine, upstanding man of over 6ft in height, certainly did not look the type of individual who would give a confederate away to the police. He sat quite still, looking at the floor, until the chief inspector spoke to him. “Well, Striker,” said McCarthy, taking a box of cigars from his bureau drawer and offering it to the man who sat opposite, “what is it? Have yoti come to put us wise to a new move of MacTavish’s ?” Striker lit his cigar. His hand was quite steady. “I suppose I have,” he said eventually. “I’ve been good pals with Alonzo MacTavish for years. I’ve worked with him and for him faithfully, but lie’s done something I don’t allow any man to do, and he’s got to pay for it.” McCarthy grinned. “There’s a girl in this, I suppose,” he said. Striker looked up. “Perhaps there is,” lie said. “But that’s neither here nor there. Anyhow, it’s all to your advantage. You’d never get Alonzo MacTavish without my help, and you know it. He's given you the slip time and time again. He’s done jobs under your very noses, and you’ve never been able to hang anything on to him. He’s laughed at you for years. Now, if you’ve got any brains at all, you’ll get him—

McCarthy leaned across the table. “That’s the talk I like to hear, Striker,” lie said. “It would be worth something to me to get MacTavish —-a hundred pounds, I should say.” “Would it?” said Striker. “Well, let’s see the hundred.”

McCarthy smiled. “When we’ve heard the story,” he said. Striker grinned. “I’ll have the hundred now,” he said, “or there won’t be any story.”

McCarthy thought for a moment. Then lie got up and left the room, returning a few minutes later with a packet of £5 notec;. He threw them across the table to Striker.

“There you are,” lie said. “There’: your blood money. Now, what’s th story ?”

“There’s an old fellow called Grant,” he said. “He lives in Berkeley Street — quite close to the park, and lie’s got a collection of antique Roman jewels in a case. He keeps them in a special sort of safe, I believe, just as if there was any safe that Alonzo MacTavish couldn’t open if he wanted to, providing he’d had a good look at it first. Well, MacTavish is going to have that collection.” Striker drew at his cigar and regarded the ceiling. “Is he?” said McCarthy. “When?” “To-morrow night,” answered Striker. “He’s got everything ready. There are three of us in it, MacTavish, Lon Ferrers and myself. MacTavish is getting into the house by the first floor window which is at the side of the house in the entrance to a garage. He reckons that it will take him twenty minutes to get the safe open. My job is to watch the Piccadilly end of Berkeley Street.” McCarthy looked across at Glass with a smile.

“Looks like the end of Alonzo MacTavish,” he said. “Five years, at least. MacTavish, the swell cracksman, who has never been caught! Jove! It’ll be a haul for us, Glass!” He picked up a pencil from the desk. “What time is he doing this job, Striker?” he asked. “I don’t know for certain,” the man replied. “You know what MacTavish i«s. He never lets his right hand know what his left hand’s doing, but it’ll be somewhere round about twelve o’clock at night. That need not worry you, though. Directly MacTavish enters the house, I’ll cut into the telephone box near the Berkeley and ring you up. You can be there in ten minutes, and it’ll take him at least twenty minutes to half an hour to get that safe open.” McCarthy considered for a moment. “1 think you’re right, Striker,” he said. “It wouldn’t do for us to be hanging about there too early. That neighbour” hood is usually deserted at midnight, and he might smell a rat. You telephone to me directly he enters the house, and we’ll be along inside five minutes. And. don’t let me down, Striker; otherwise it* will go hard with you!”

“You need not worry about that, chief,” Striker answered. “There’s just one thing. Directly you’ve got Mac--la 3 isli, Id like to make a quick getaway. I don’t want him to suspect that I’ve shopped him.” “That’s all right,” said McCarthy. “\ou can clear off directly we get our hands on him. I shan’t need to call you as evidence. He'll have the goods' on him—caught in the act. That’s good enough for me. Ali right, Striker, you can go no\y —everything as arranged.'” “Right, Chief.” said Striker. “You can rely on me.”

After Glass and the traitor liad goiv>. McCarthy rose and stretched himself. A pleased smile played about his mouth. “Got you, MacTavish,” he murmured. “Got you—at last!” The Arrest, On the following night, as eleventhirty struck, Mr. Alonzo MacTavish, immaculately garbed in evening clothes, with his silk hat at its usual rakish angle, and his eyeglass screwed firmly into his left eye, walked slowly up Berkeley Street, and with a quick glance round, turned sharply into the garage entrance which ran by the side of Grant House. Then, secure in the thought that Lon Ferrers was keeping watch on one end of the street, and Striker at the other, he climbed quickly up the side

of the house, the grooved architecture affording ample foothold, climbed over the balcony, forced the window with quick precision, and got through into the room beyond. He stood in the darkness for a minute, listening intently. Then, switching on an electric torch, he crossed the room and stood before the iron safe which was let into the wall. It was a very modern safe, guaranteed burglar proof and fireproof, but Alonzo’s mouth curved into a smile as he examined it.

He took from his pocket a box, which appeared to be made of steel, and which was about the size of the ordinary cigar box. Alonzo inserted a key into an aperture at the end of the box ami wound up some mechanism within. The box immediately began to tick loudly

after the manner of an alarm clock. MacTavish placed the box immediately beneath the bottom of the safe, switched off his electric torch, made his way out of the window, over the balcony, and climbed down the wall in a trice. At the bottom Lon Ferrers met him. and handed him a leather case, about the size of a small attache case.

“Everything’s all right, Mac,” said Lon Ferrers. “I’ve just given Striker the signal to telephone. I'll get out of the way.” "That’s right, Lon,” said Alonzo.

“The window is opened and everything should be easy for you. Don’t let any-

one see you about here now. So long!” Lon Ferrers disappeared as quickly and as quietly as he had come, and Alonzo, placing the leather case under his arm, waited patiently in the shadows of the alley.

Five minutes previously, Striker, a grin hovering about his face, had slipped into the telephone box near the Berkeley Hotel, and had telephoned Chief Inspector McCarthy. “MacTavish has just entered the house, Chief,” he had said. “You’d better hurry. He may be quicker than

we expected.” McCarthy had answered that he .would be along immediately, and Striker, hanging up the receiver, had walked quickly down Berkeley Street. As he passed the garage alley, he nodded quickly to Alonzo standing in the shadows. “0.k., Mac,” said Striker.

MacTavish, his leather case still under his arm, walked from the alley into Berkeley Street and commenced to stroll very slowly in the direction of Piccadilly. As he neared the top of the street, McCarthy’s car shot round the corner. Alonzo heard the sound of brakes, and the car pulled up abruptly beside him. H e stopped, with a smile as McCarthy leapt from the car and confronted him.

“So you were quicker than we thought, MacTavish,” said McCarthy with a grin. “Well, tlie game’s up this time!”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” said Alonzo still smiling. “Don’t you?” said McCarthy. “Well,' I’ll be a little more plain. I arrest you on a charge of theft —the theft of the Grant collection of Roman jewels—• they're in that case under your arm. I happen to have seen the collection and I recognise the case.” Alonzo's smile became broader. “I’m afraid you're making a rather serious mistake, Chief Inspector,” he said. “Will you allow me to explain ?” “You can explain at the Yard,” said the chief inspector shortly. “It’s aIJ up MacTavish. Get in!”

Ten minutes later in McCarthy's room at Scotland Yard, Alonzo was formally charged. Then, with a somewhat pained smile he sat down in a chair and regarded the chief inspector. “You know, McCarthy,” ho said, “you always were a bit of an ass, but this really takes the cake.” He pointed to the open case which lay on McCarthy’s table, in which a collection of antique stones glittered. “Those aren’t the Grant Roman jewels,” continued Alonzo. “Those stones were bought by me about a week ago. I recognised them immediately as a very good imitation of the Grant collection, and I immediately, wrote to Mr. Grant informing him that an imitation set of his collection existed, and asking if he would like to see them. He wrote and told me he would. I’ve got his letter in my pocket now.” Alonzo threw a letter cn to the table in front of the chief inspector. “It was arranged,” continued Alonzo, “that, as I was engaged at an earlier hour, I should call on him at twelve o'clock tonight. I was just on my way there, when you arrested me,” said Alonzo,

“and let me tell you this, chief inspector, unless I am immediately released, you’re

going to get into trouble. You can’t go about arresting people promiscuously. If you don’t believe what I say, telephone to Mr. Grant and ask him to get into a car and drive down he’e. He'll tell you that those jewels are simply imitation paste, and that that letter is the actual letter wljich he wrote to me!” McCarthy said nothing. Then, after a moment, he stretched his hand out for the telephone. “You’qe a clever devil, MacTavish,” he said. “I’ll not take any chances with

Whilst they waited the coming of Grant, Alonzo smoked a cigarette patiently, and chatted pleasantly with Glass. McCarthy Mas already beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. He knew the clever brain which existed behind the bland smile of Mr. Alonzo MacTavish, yet, at the same time, lie could not see where he had any possibility of a chance. Fifteen minutes afterwards Grant, amazed at being telephoned for from the Yard, arrived. He looked at the jewels and the letter, and turned to McCarthy with a surprised smile. “This gentleman is perfectly right,” he said, indicating Alonzo. “This is my lettef which I wrote to him, and these are, apparently, the imitation jewels which he so kindly promised ,to show me. I am terribly sorry that this unfortunate mistake has occurred,” he continued, turning to Alonzo. MacTavish grinned. “You know what our police are like,” he said, looking at McCarthy. “They’re always making mistakes. Never mind, they can’t really help it. Well, Chief Inspector, I suppose I may go now. Really I think I

ought to insist on $ written apology from you, but I’ll be nice to you this time and let you off. Good-night, Chief Inspector. Be good!” And with a pleasant smile, Alonzo strolled out of the room, and away from the Yard, leaving Chief Inspector McCarthy white with rage. He had been gone about twenty minutes when Inspector Glass, feeling that it Mas up to him to say something comforting to his Chief, walked into McCarthy’s office.

J “Pretty hard luck, that,” he said. “I J wonder . . .” he broke off abruptly |as the -telephone rang. McCarthy stretched out his hand and took off the receiver. “Hallo,” lie said. “Yes . . . who’s that . . . Mr. Grant? What? What* Your Roman jewels have been stolen. What’s that? They were stolen whilst you were down here at the Yard. Yes. I’ll come immediately!” He put down the receiver and looked blankly at Inspector Glass. “Well, that beats everything,” he said. “Grant’s jewels were stolen between the time be left the house and arrived here. It couldn’t have been anything to do with MacTavish because MacTavish Mas sitting here all the time. I wonder who in the name of goodness has pulled this!” Inspector Glass thought deeply for a moment, then a slow smile broke over his taciturn countenance. “I’ll tell you who pulled it, Chief,” he said. “Alonzo MacTavish! ” “What the devil do you mean?” spluttered McCarthy. “Simply this,” said Glass. “It’s as plain as the nose on your face.” He sat down opposite the astounded Chief Inspector. “MacTavish Mas after the Grant jewels and he knew that old Grant had got some new sort of safe. Now MacTavish always likes to have a look at a safe before operating on it. He gets Striker to come down here with a cock and| bull story, which we believe. Incidentally, Striker gets one hundred pounds out of you for the information. Then what happens? MacTavish has had the imitation set of jewels made and has actually written to old Grant asking if he Mould like to Bee them. Of course, Grant says ‘yes.* Then, instead of Striker telephoning you when MacTavish entered the house he telephoned you when ho left it. So don’t you see what happened? MacTavish entered the house and simply left a time bomb under the safe. The bomb Mas timed to explode about an hour afterwards. He then walks up the street, knowing perfectly well that you are going to meet and arrest him. He knows that you M ill bring him back to the Yard to formally charge him, and he insists on old Grant being brought down here to prove that the set of jewels 'which MacTavish was carrying were actually imitations of the real thing. Whilst Grant is aMay, the time bomb explodes, blows open the safe, and one of MacTavish’s men, probably Lon Ferrers, who is hanging about in tlie neighbourhood, simply enters through the window, which MacTavish had carefully left open, and grabs the real case of jewels. “MacTavish has the most perfect alibi in the world. Whilst all this is happening, he is sitting down here in Scotland Yard, having been wrongfully arrested for something which lie lias certainly succeeded in doing. “You can bet your life that at this moment MacTavish is examining those jewels and having the laugh of his life at us. He set a trap for you, Chief, and you fell into it. Not only did you fall into it, but you paid a hundred pounds for the privilege of doing so. It’s no good, Chief, MacTavish has been too good for us. We’re a pair of ‘also rails.’ We’ve been sold!” (To be continued daily.)