Marjorie And The Bank Robbers

Auckland Star, Volume LXXI, Issue 225, 21 September 1940, Page 8 (Supplement)

Marjorie And The Bank Robbers

" T SHAN'T be long now, Mar- * jorie," said Mr. Mansell, manager of a country bank in Victoria, as he gathered up some important papers for the safe. "It is much later than I thought." An interview with a farmer °wlio had come some distance to discuss business had lasted late into the winter afternoon. Oh, it e all right, daddy," re-' plied the nine-year-old girl, busily scribbling figures on blank forms. I m writing cheques!" Every Friday after her music lesson Marjorie called at the bank to drive home in her father's car. It was seldom as late as this. Outside two strongly-built men slouched along in the shadows of the deserted mountain road and paused not far from the side door of the bank. "I say, Bill . he must be still there," whispered one of them, pointing to the waiting car. "Mm . . . never mind, we can tackle him, and then use the car for a getaway," replied his mate confidently. "Perhaps you're right." For a moment there was silence between them. "And in any case we've got to catch that night train to the city, whatever happens. . . ." "Come on then, Joe—there's nobody about." For weeks they had been carefully planning to rob the bank. "We could do it blindfold,", boasted Bill, "considering we just about know every inch of the place." "But then there's Mansell." "We'll catch him on the hop, and it'll be two to one, anyhow." Within the' next few minutes they silently and skilfully managed to get the side door open. In the meantime the unsuspecting bank manager busied himself putting away the last of the cash. Suddenly he stopped and listened intently. What was that? Stealthy footsteps, surely. "Hullo, why, it's Bill Hogan," exclaimed the astonished man, recognising his two visitors, and imagining they must waut to see him urgently. "Stick 'em up!" "You're joking!"

Stick em up, I say," snapped Bill once again. "We want that cash," whipping out a revolver and .covering the manager. Outwardly calm, Mr. Mansell was by this time really alarmed. The men were certainly in earnest. He had to think quickly. No hope of reaching his own weapon. Anxiously he thought of his little girl the other side of the low wooden partition. At the first sound of the strange voice speaking so roughly Marjorie had been too scared to utter a word. Hidden from view, she sat as silent as a mouse, and waited. "Tie him up, Joe, and make it snappy," ordered Hogan, without wasting any more time. Why bother to argue? He was at their mercy. It would be an easy job. "Right-o," replied the burly Joe, producing some stout cord, but keeping a wary eye on his mate's gun at the same time. Neither of them guessed for an instant that the quiet, pleasantfaced bank manager, standing with his back to the table, was at that very moment hurriedly planning how to get the better of them. . , "If they think I'm going to let them truss me up and make off with the cash they're greatly mistaken," he thought furiously, groping behind him with one hand. Stepping forward, Joe made a rough grab at liis arms. But in a flash Mr. Mansell had seized the flat glass ink-tray with its sharp-edged wells. "Get out of this bank!" he shouted, bringing the impromptu weapon down with a ' terrific

crash on the hand that wrenched viciously at his left arm. There was a howl of pain, and the two men stumbled to the floor as they closed in a desperate struggle. For a second Bill Hogan was staggered. This resistance had been so sudden and unexpected. It looked as if all their plans were going wrong after all. Bang! A random shot struck the bank manager as he struggled •> to his feet once more. "Get out of . . he gasped, his voice trailing away as he lost I consciousness. The two intruders were beginning to feel decidedly scared at the turn events had taken. "He'll come round later and probably raise an alarm," muttered the man who had fired the shot. "Well, just look at my hand," groaned his mate. "Can't you do something for it?" Realising that before long someone would wonder at the manager's delay, they decided on a plan. The wounded man on the floor stirred uneasily. "Better lift him into the car and drive like mad for that empty old farmhouse." Feeling very shaky, Joe nodded in agreement. I I

hastily completed their arrangements. However, they failed to notice a small figure bent double slip under the hinged part of the counter and dart noiselessly along to the side door. In a trice she had whisked behind a clump of bushes close to her father's, car. Not a minute too soon. Tramp, tramp. . . . "Here they come!" she almost shrieked, as her father was carried out and bundled quickly into the back seat. There was no time to be lost. Anything might happen. Jumping into the driver's seat, Hogan advised his injured friend to "look lively." But a plucky little girl who darted out unseen from the bushes and leapt on to the carrier at the back of the car was smarter than either of them. "Let's get away from here, it gives ine the creeps," muttered the man at the wheel as he started up the engine. Over ruts and bumps rocked the car. The small passenger clinging on for dear life at the back was in constant danger of being thrown 'to the roadway. "We should be right now," mumbled Bill as he drew the car to the side of the road near the old farmhouse, and glanced keenly into the back seat. "He won't stir for hoijrs!" With a gasp of relief Marjorie saw the men disappear. What p. lonely spot! If only she could drive the car and take her father safely away from these dreadful people. Peering at his white' face, a sudden resolution came to the little girl. Into the driver's seat quickly. They were at, the top of the liill. Perhaps the car would run down by itself. "Let me see—this is the brake." Trembling with eagerness, Marjorie eased it off. Why, the car was moving forward! Kneeling on the seat, she bent forward and "ripped the steering wheel firmly. "We're going! We're going!" she whispered excitedly as the car gathered speed. Down the hill, and a sudden bump into some scrub at the roadside. "Here, what's up, girlie?" called a farmer and his son coming into view at that moment. "You're not hurt, are you?" Marjorie rattled out her startling news. "And they're up there at the old farm." But by this time the men were in full pursuit of the Puna way car, thinking they had forgotten to fix the brake. "Why, here they come!" 6he cried, collapsing in a heap from strain and shock, just as the thieves dashed almost into the arms of the waiting farmers. "Well, done, Marjorie," said an unsteady voice from the back seat. "It took a child to trick them!"