"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 1 December 1939, Page 10

"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

BY

LESLIE CARGILL

(Author of “The Yellow Phantom,” “The Arrow by Night,” etc.)

CHAPTER XVII. Continued. Maxlcy dismissed the loquacious constable when he thought there was nothing more to be learned from him. “We shan’t forget your smartness,” he gave assurance. “Keep a sharp look out in case he’s still in your neighbourhood.” So Jerry Tuckley might have been right after all in his circumstantial story of the man who winked. The confirmation justified broadcasting a description, with a request for the bearded man to come forward. Also the police search for him was widened and still further intensified. The broadcast announcement had such dramatic possibilities that the sensational newspapers took it up with i avidity, adding to the story according | to their individual tastes. Reading these stories, the Superintendent squirmed. He hated this sort of dramatising. But it was as a direct result of newspaper publicity that the man was located. Tim Mickley, a bus conductor, had read it over his breakfast, and afterwards discussed it with the driver of the bus on which he worked. “Supposed to pinch rides, he is. Perhaps he’s been hanging behind us and me never noticing.” “And perhaps he never ’as,” rejoined Tim’s mate, scathingly. “You would try and spoil it. I’d ’a liked to have got into the papers as the conductor who saw the mystery man peeping through the rear window, all sinister and—and —” Words failed him. which was just as well, for he was holding up the prompt starting of the bus. An even greater part was to be his before the day was out—one that was to induce his favourite paper to print a rather blurry picture on the front page, captioned incorrectly “Tom Mockley, a Midharnpton conductor, who discovered the bearded man wanted as a witness in the Netherton bus mystery.” Usually Mickley was too occupied to pay any particular attention to the outside of his coach. When he wasn’t collecting money and delivering tickets he stationed himself on the forward platform to make sure no pick-ups were overlooked. With his mind full of the revelations of unauthorised passengers he was on the alert that morning, and even saw how the boarding was accomplished. They were toiling up a stiffish hill in low gear, when a figure darted from the shelter of a hedge, took a flying leap and came nimbly to rest on the emergency step. It was hardly a coincidence that the construction of the coach was similar to that on which the murder had taken placet Evidently the tramp was quick-witted enough to choose the. right type. Tim Mickley distinctly observed a hairy face glancing hurriedly to see that the coast was clear. Stifling his rising excitement, he pretended to be unaware of the occurrence. Nothing was to be seen of the man after that first glimpse, and the conclusion was that he was keeping well down below the level of the glass. When they came to the level, the vehicle speeded., up. and Tim had begun to think out a plan of campaign. Sliding open the little window that permitted communication with the driver, he whispered an injunction not to betray surprise. “Keep your eyes to the front and don’t slacken speed,” he exclaimed. “He’s aboard.” “Who is?” demanded the bewildered driver. “The man they’re looking for —him with the long beard. 1 saw him hop on to the step.” “Go on, you’re kidding.” “Sure I’m not, and I’ll prove it if you’ll help.” “Anything to oblige a pal, though it sounds dippy. What do you want me to do?” “Stop as quickly as you can when I give the sign. I’m going to get ready at the door and nip behind before he can get away.” “Suppose he’s a desperate character?” “That’s where you come in again. Jump down and and run round the other side. I’ll be able to hold him until then, and with the two of us it will be easy as shelling peas.” He was quite right in this surmise. Not anticipating any attack the tramp took no notice of the sudden stoppage. Owing to his crouching position he was not even able to observe the conductor's brisk descent. Not until sounds of approaching footsteps gave warning did he take alarm —and then it was too late. Tim Mickley threw himself forward just as the stranger started to run. Grabbing the man's tattered coat he held on with might and main, yelling to the driver to hurry. It was hardly a terrific struggle, for once convinced that he was caught, the bearded tramp accepted the situation philisophically. “Right, guv'nor, it’s a cop,” he called out, just as Driver Ellis prepared to fling himself into the fray. “Cut out. the rough stuff. Wotcher going to do about it?” Tim wasn’t quite sure. “You hadn’t got no right to be on my bus without payin’,” he said feebly. “Cor, luv yer, I ain't got no money. Be a sport, guv'nor. and fergit it.” Tim took off his peaked cap and scratched his head. “Can't do that.” he retorted, “you're a wanted man." "Wanted? What me? 'Oo by?" "Police!"

A »look of alarm came into the tramp's eyes and he seemed about to take to his heels. Mickley gripped his arms and uttered a brief warning. “But I ain't done nothin’, least not as the slops ’ud want me for. Can't a bloke get a bit of a buckshee 'ride now and agin without all this row p.oin' on?” “Are you coming quiet?’ “Let us off this time, please, guvnor. It's ’orrid bein' in clink this ’ot weather. ’Tain’t so bad in winter. I ’ates it in summer.” “Hop aboard and stop whining. You ain’t going to gaol so far as I knows.” “Then what do the p’lice want me for?” “Don't ask me. Try at the station!" Unwillingly the man walked in front of Tim and gingerly seated himself, watched apprehensively by the passengers. "The man with the beard." went round an excited whisper. "Heard the S.O.S. last night . . . read it in the paper . . .knows something about the Netherton business . . . CHAPTER XXI Morrison Sharpe had contracted a habit of dropping into the Netherton Police Headquarters to chat with Superintendent Maxley, who was never too busy to see the little man. On going into the dismal room reserved to the chief of the C.I.D. he found several officers engaged in animated discussion and was about to beat a hasty retreat when Maxley called him back. “It's all right, Mr Sharpe. Come right in. There’s some news that will interest you.” "Found the bearded tramp, eh?” "Damn! What’s the use. Every time I spring a new one you know all about it.” “Pure guesswork this time. You looked so pleased with yourself that 1 felt convinced success had rewarded your most important endeavour of the moment. Sure it’s the right person?” “Almost! We shall soon see. They're bringing him right over from Midhampton. It appears that a conductor named Mickley spotted him doing the same thing and managed to nab him very effectively but quite illegally. I’ve also sent for young Tuckley.” Actually it was more than half an hour later when a police car from Midhampton brought the eagerly awaited witness. That he was no stranged to such surroundings was proved by his self-pos-sessed air—that attitude which is peculiar to those who have often been in the hands of the police. Between the law and the habitual lawbreaker there is a quaint cameraderie arising out of mutual understanding. "Lumme!" exclaimed the tramp, as he took in the unexpected number of people present. “Sit down." Maxley invited, taking his own place at the big desk. The man was suspicious. “What’s the game?” he demanded. “There are a few questions we want to ask you.” He pressed a bell push and ordered the the uniformed clerk who came to send Jerry Tuckley forward. The boy was ushered in from another room, took one look at the ragged figure and nodded vigorously. “That’s him,” he agreed. “Ever seen this lad before?" Maxley asked. "Not as I remember, guv’nor." “You jumped a bus between Colborough and Netherton less than a month ago!” "Did I? Then you’re better up in my movements than meself.” “This boy saw you and you winked!" “Cor, yus, that’d be right. One day there was a young shaver as acted the sport instead of givin’ me away. This is ’im is it? Well, what about it?" "Where did you get on that bus?" “ 'Tain’t no good askin’ me that. I does it often and one place is as good as another.” "Do you usually wink at passeners?” “Never done it afore as I knows of. When I sees the kid had piped me I gives 'im the eye, ’oping it 'ud keep his mouth shut. Don’t make sense to me for ’im to go squealin’ at this time a' day.” “Then you admit you were there?" “Seems so. The kid knows me and I knows the kid. What more d’yer want?" "Better let young Tuckley go now.” suggested the Inspector. Maxlcy agreed and the boy went unwillingly. It was not often he got a chance like this. Proceeding with the examination an attempt was made to elicit where the man with the beard had been waiting. Apparently he had no bump of locality. “I dossed under a stack and walked across some fields till 1 got to a main road. Then 1 'ung about in a ’edge lookin' for a likely lift," “What’s your name?" "Anything you like. They calls me ■Uncle.’ “That isn’t eno'ugh. How about the last time you were sent down?" "Suppose wc says 'Smith'?" "Try again. There's one Smith already in custody charged with murder, and another makes a crowd." "Murder, did you say. guv’nor? Cor!" "Surely you know why you're here? “Not if it ain’t about these 'ere free rides." "Can’t you read?" “Nothin’ much to speak of. There ain’t much call to be a seholard in my perfession.” (To be Continued.)