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Waipawa Mail, Volume L, Issue 43, 28 December 1928, Page 3 (Supplement)

solutely deserted. Mr Penfound could scarcely believe that London, even in the dead of night, could be so lonely. The gas lamps shone steady in the still, warm air, and above them Ihe star-studded sky, with a thin sickle moon, at which, however, beautiful as it was, Mr Penfound could not look. His gaze was fixed on the burglars. As he inspected their backs he wondered what their thoughts The procession moved slowly eastwanl along Fulham road, tho two burglars first, silent, glum, and disgusted, and Mr Penfound with his revolvers close behind. Still no policeman, no wayfarer. Mr Penfound began to feel a little anxious. And his hunger win insufferable. This little procession of his could not move for ever. Something must occur, and Mr Penfound said that something must occur quickly. He looked up at the houses with a wilt glance, but these dark faces of brick, all with closed eyelids, gave liim :m sign of encouragement. Hut presently, as the clock of Fulham parish struck three, Mr P< nfound beheld an oasis of waving pa ins and cool water in this desert; tint is to ay, he saw in the distance one of those coffee stalls which just before midnight mysteriously dot themselves about London, only to disappear again at breakfast time. The burglars also aw it, and stopped almost involuntarily. “Get on now,” said Mr Pt nfound, gruffly, “and stop five paces ! ast the coffee stall. D’ye hear?” “Yes, sir,” whined the young burglar. “Av,” remarked the old burglar, coolly. When the trio arrived, the stallkeeper happened to lie bending over a tea-urn, and he did not notice the halt of the procession until Mr PcnIniind spoke. “1 say,” Mr Penfound began, holding the revolvers about the level of his top waistcoat button, an l with hi eves fixed on the burglars—“l “Tea or coffee?’’ asked the stallkeeper shortly, looking up. •* Neither—that is, at present,’’ replied Mr Penfound, sweetly. “The I’jict is, I’ve got two burglars here.” ‘‘ Two what —where?” Mr Penfound then explained the whole circumstances. “And ! want v,m to fetch a couple of policemen.” The stallkecpcr paused a moment. ll* was a grim fellow, so Mr Penfound gathered from the come, of his “Well, that’s about the best story ns 1 ever ’card,” the stallkecpcr said. “Ami you want me to fetch a police“Ycs; and I hope you’ll hurry up. I’m tired of holding these revolvers.” “And I’m to leave my stall, am I?” “Certainly.” The stallkecpr placed the fist finger of his left hand upright against his nose. “Well, T just ain’t then. What d've take me for?” A bloomin’ owl. Look ’ere, mister; no kid! Nigh every night some jokers tries % to get me away from my stall, so ns they can empty it and run off. Hut T ain’t been in this line nineteen year for nothin’. No, you go and take yer tale and yer pistols and yer bloomin’ burglars somewhere else. ’Ear?” ‘‘.V you please,” said Mr Penfound, with dignity. “Only I’ll wait here till a policeman comes, or someone. You will then learn that I have fold you the truth. How soon will n policeman he along?” “Might he a ’our, might he more. There ain’t likely to be no other people till four-thirty or thereabouts; that’s when my trade begins.” Mr Penfound was annoyed. His hunger, exasperated by the exquisite

fyrl odors of the stall, increased every seem oml. and the prospect of waiting an iw> hour, even half an hour, was appal - iof ling. la Another idea occurred to him. Q(] “Will you.” he said to the stally keeper, “kindly put one of those saui]s- into my mouth? T daren't loose bo these revolvers.” “Xot till I sees ver money/’ tnd Hunger made Mr Pen found fo. hmnhle. and he continued: the “Will you come round and take the inencv out of my pocket?” ball “No, T won’t. I don’t leave this Up Vre counter. T knows ver dodges.” i” “Very well, T will wait.” np “Steady on, governor. You aren’t Fu!- (lie only chap that’s hungry.” *y. Mi Pen found turned sharply at the voice. It was the elder burglar who •h- spoke, and the elder burglar had laced him and was approaching the stall, regardless of revolvers. Mr Pen found noticed a t winkle in the man’s eye, a faint appreciation of the fact that the situation was funny, i and Mr Pen found gave way to n [ Might smile. He was being disobeyed flatly, hut for the life of him he I could not shoot. Resides, there was no occasion to shoot, as the burglar "as certainly making no attempt to csi*ap(». The fellow was brave enough, after all. “Two slabs and a pint o’ thick,” ' lie said to the stallkeeper, and was immediately served with a jug of coffee and two huge pieces of bread and Rutter, for which he flung down twopence. “Look here,” the elder burglar continued, quietly handing one of the I pieces of bread and butter to his companion in sin, who by this time had* also ciept up, “you can put down them revolvers and tuck in till the peeler comes along. We know when We’re copped, and we aren’t going to skip. You tuck in, governor.” “Give it a name,” said tl\e stallholder, with an eye to business. Mr Pen found, scarcely knowing what he did or why he did it, put down one revolver, and then the bother, flshed a shilling from his poc■Ket, and presently was engaged in

the consumption oi‘ a ham sandwich and coffee. “You’re a cool one,” he said at length, rather admiringly, to the elder burglar. “So arc you,” said the elder burglar; and he and Mr Penfound both glanced somewhat scornfully at the other burglar, undersized, cringing, pale. “You can go,” he said quietly to the elder burglar, “so clear off before the policeman sees you.” “Straight?” the man said, looking him in the eyes to make sure there was no joking. “Straight, my friend .... Here, shake.” So it happened that Mr Penfound and the elder burglar shook hands. The next instant Mr Penfound was alone with the stallkeepcr; the other two, with the celerity bom of practice, had vanished into the night. “Did you ever see such a man?” said Mr Penfound to the stallkceper, putting the revolvers in his pocket, and feeling strangely happy, as one who has done a good action. “Yer don’t kid me,” was the curt reply. “It was all a plant. Want anythink else? Because, if not, ye’d best go.” “Yes, I do,” said Mr Penfound, for he had thought of his wife. He spent sevcnpence, on various good things, and was just gathering his purchases together when the policeman appeared. “Good night, officer,” he called out, blithely, and set off to run home, as though for his life. As he re-entered the bedroom at No. 7 his wife sat up in bed, a beautiful but accusing figure. “George,” she said, “where have you been?” “My love,” he answered, “I’ve been out info the night to get this sausage, and this cake, and this sandwich. Eat them. They will do you good.”