EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 September 1939, Page 10

EBONY TORSO

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER Vll.—(Continued). He found it situated in a densely populated riverside slum, its grimy windows surrounded by a crowd of urchins, who were peeping in at a number of dejected looking birds' and animals. Hopton slouched across the read, joined the crowd of noisy children, whose grubby noses were pressed against the glass, and examined the various curiosities. He had not been standing there for more than a minute when the shop door opened with a resounding clang from its bell, and the proprietor leapt out, a long cane in his hand. “Get out of it, you little dev’ls!” he yelled in a harsh voice, as the young shop-gazers disappeared amid derisive shouts and gurgles of laughter. “Cheeky little blackguards!” went on Mr Frost, turning angrily to Hopton, “puttin’, their dirty finger marks all over the winder. The police ought to stop the pests worryin’ us shopkeepers, like they do. Look at that glass. All mucked up so as you can’t see a thing! It’s disgustin’, that’s wot it is, and r’ve only just paid ’alf a dollar to the winder cleaners!”

Hopton was quick to make the most of his opportunity. “Let me clean it up fer yer. I’ll be glad to earn a tanner, Guv’nor,” he sniffed abjectly. “You’d be doin’ me a real kindness, too. I want to earn a tanner fer a cup o’ tea and a bite o’ something very badly.” The naturalist was evidently a suspicious man, for .he looked the disguised Detective carefully up and down before replying to his request for employment. “D’you come from this neighbourood?” he inquired at last. “No Guv’nor, Heppin’ way,” Hopton assured him. “Nothin’ doin’ rahnd them parts. I’d be real grateful fer a bit o’ help.” Mr Frost pushed back his cap meditatively and scratched his mop of grizzled red hair. At last he readjusted his headgear with a decided jerk as if he had reached a decision. “Very well, tnen, me man, come inside and I’ll give you a bucket and cloth: then you get busy, and mind you, if that thur winder shows a speck o’ grease or smear w’en you’ve done, don’t expect no tanner from me. I ’aven’t got no time for snoddy work,” and, leading the way, he ushered the exultant Detective into the shop. “Just you wait 'ere/' ordered MiFrost, “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” with which warning he walked behind the counter and disappeared through a door. Hopton looked round with interest and soon came to the conclusion that the naturalist’s stock was about as representative as Father Noah’s. Tortoises, parrots, cavies, -mice, newts, goldfish, rats, puppies and kittens stared at him from all sides, mewing, yapping, screaming and squeaking in such an argute chorus that the Detective began to understand why the proprietor’s nerves were a little tricky. Besides the almost intolerable noise, the atmosphere of the store was far from pleasant, and Hopton was not at all sorry when Mr Frost reappeared with a bucket of water and the cloth.

“There you are, Laddie,” he said handing them over to his new employee. “Now you can get at it, and don’t spare the elbow-grease!” He still seemed a trifle suspicious of his protege ne followed to watch him start work. Fortunately the Detective was a versatile person, and his attempts at window-cleaning were convincing.

Hcpton worked away, perspiring liberally from the exertion, and managed to make a good job of the window before his attention was suddenly attracted by t.ie reflection of a man who was slowly crossing the road. The fellow was well muffled up in a grey overcoat and woollen scarf, and wore blue tinted glasses, but, with a thrill of excitement, the watcher recognised the unmistakable face of Smith, Father Galesbourne’s servant. Hopton stopped his polishing and cautiously observed his quarry’s movements in the sheet of shining glass bebefore him with breathless eagerness. Smith stopped on the kerb, took a nervous glance up and down the street as if he expected to be followed and quickly entereci the naturalist’s store. The sight almost made his watcher dance with elation for, by the merest! chance he had stumbled on an important clue. The mystery was slowly thinning out, and he now knew that Mrs Clara Abershaw had a very definite connection with Smith! And where Smith was, he felt pretty certain he would find Galesbourne . . and a solution to the problem of Scutt’s murder. His first reaction was to quit work, 'phone the “Yard,” and have Mr Ikey Frost’s shop surrounded and searched immediately; but. on second thoughts, he realised that to leave his job unfinished and disappear might pul the gang on their guard, so that by the time the police arrived, his man would have been smuggled away and they would find the nest empty. So, quietly finishing off his task in an almost professional manner, he emptied the dirty water down the gutter, wrung out the cloth, put it in the bucket and re-en-tered the shop. The bell clanged loudly as he opened the door, and Mr Frost bustled out.

“Well, me lad,” he cried genially, “done yer job?” “I think you'll find it 0.K., boss,” grinned Hopton, with an awkward

complaisance. “I’ll just ’ave a look an’ see if it suits me,” Frost announced, going out and inspecting the results critically. He seemed quite satisfied and returned with a hand buried in his trouser pocket. “Good work,” ho said, as he produced fhp nrnmic.pH civnpnrp nnrl bond nd if

over. “I’m a stickler 'fer a bargain, Laddie, but I’ll admit you've earned yer tanner, and earned it well. I’ll give you a cup o’ tea as well, if you'll come through into the sittin’-room. The kettle's on the boil, so you won t ’ave to wait long.”

Hopton expressed his thanks and followed his benefactor through the door behind the counter, down a short, musty-smelling passage, packed on either side with empty cages and sacks of meal, and eventually found himself in the drab 'little living room.

“Squattez-vous,” invited Mr Frost genially, as he busied himself with tne teapot. “I’ll soon ’ave it ready. Me missus is out at the pictures, but we can carry on quite all right without ’er.”

“That’s the style,” commented Flopton unintelligently, as he looked eagerly round for any sign of Smith. “Must be a funny sort o’ gime, yours, guv’nor, with all them fishes an’ rabbits an’ wot nots.”

“Ah!” agreed the other. “It is that, an’ no mistake. You might just go through into the larder there, an’ fetch the tea-tin, while I’m laying the things.”

“Roight ye are, boss,” replied Hopton, as he got up and went to the door indicated. “In ’ere?”

“That’s the place,” answered the naturalist. “Catch these matches, and you’ll find it on the shelf at the end.” The detective caught the box, opened the door, and, striking a light, walked into the larder and began to hunt for the' canister. Hardly had he got fairly over the threshold than the door was slammed behind him and an exclamation of savage delight made him realise that he had fallen into a palpable trap and was fairly caught. Swinging found, he shouted to his captor- to release him, and hammered on the stout panels with his fists; all to no purpose, however, for it was heavily padded, and his furious assault produced practically no sound. And then, from the other side of the door, he heard the mocking voice of Mr Ikey Frost.

“Yer tho’rt you’d got a ‘sucker,’ didn’t you, Mr ’Opton?” he cried in derisive triumph. “But you’ve met yer match this time, you creepin’ tripe’ound. Ye’ll find a bit more glasscleanin’ to keep yer occupied in there if yer care to get busy with them old jars, but I shouldn’t get strikin’ too many matches, because I’ve got a gaspipe coupled up, and we ipight just turn it on so as you can see wot we do to the pore little doggies an’ pussycats w’en we wants to send ’em to sleep painlessly.” A grim chuckle followed the threat, and the detective could just hear Someone whispering. There was an ominous pause, and then another voice addressed him —the voice of .Galesbourne.

“Well, Inspector,” it said. “I just wanted to say good-bye. You were so busy stalking Smith that you didn't notice me watching you from the back of the window? That was rather a clumsy omission, wasn’t it? But, after all, asphyxiation’s only painful for the first few moments, my dear fellow; so be thankful it’s not worse.”

Hopton flung himself against the door in impotent fury, cursing and yelling until he tired himself out, in the hope of making someone hear, but the stout boards resisted all his efforts. At last he ceased these futile attempts to regain his freedom, and leaned, panting and exhausted, in the corner. From the room outside he could hear the vague sounds of a heated argument between several persons, amongst which were a woman’s tones, highpitched and pleading. “For God’s sake, don’t do it, Tom,” she begged. “Don’t add any more to the list! The first was bad enough; but if you . . .” At this point Galesbourne broke in angrily:

“Shut up, curse you! D’you hear what I say? D’you \vant the old man and me to get scragged, you fool? That rat in there's got enough evidence to swing the whole darned issue; or it won’t take him long to get it, now he knows where we're hiding.” A chorus of assent from several men greeted this remark.

“Very well, then, I won’t say another word,” the woman went on resignedly, “But remember, I don’t agree!” “That’s nothing new, my dear, you never damned well do,” retorted the padre fiercely, “Just you leave the management of these little jobs to people who’ve got a little more guts and understand the risks they're taking, and shut that mouth of yours, or you’ll be landing us all in the dock.” I ve been thinkin’, Tom, it’ll never do to gas ’im, y’know,” said Ikey Frost. "If you do-that, 'ow the dickens shall I get rid of ’im?” ‘Same as usual,” suggested the person addressed, sourly. “That’s just the point, old pal, I can’t . . not if we gas ’im. They won't so much as look at ’im.” "Piffle man, they’ll have to,” cried Galesbourne. “We’ve got to gas him, there’s no compromise.” “Well. I’m sorry to disagree, but you’ll find it won’t work. I’ve got a pretty good experience in those matters, and it won’t come off. I’ve tried it before.” "What d’you suggest, then?” questioned the other grudgingly. ■ (To be continued.)