Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday Tommy stared. Hiding behind a ward- robe was Eddie. His lace was white with terror. " What's up?" Tommy asked. " What arc you doing?" "Nothing's up," Eddie replied quickly. Then he realised that this was no time for lying, and blurted out: " I'm in a Jam." "What kind of a jam?" Eddie went to the door and looked out. Satisfied that his mother had gone to her own room, he beckoned to Tommy, and led the way down the stairs and out of the back of the building. There, standing in a dark alleyway, was a car. Eddie indicated it hopelessly. "Whose car is it?" Tommy asked. Eddie gulped. "I—stole it." he said. "I didn't know things would be this way. They talked me into it—Hearn and his crowd." "Talked you into what?" "We broke into a fur loft." Eddie gabbled the words. "The stuff is in the back of the car." Tommy's eyes opened wide. "Then you'd better get it out of here," he said. "I can't. The cops are after me." Tommy glared at Eddie. In that moment he felt he wanted to give him a darned good hiding. "So that's it!" he said. "You bring the car here so that mother can get to hear about it! Haven't you any brains?" "I didn't know what else to do," Eddie whined. Tommy thought rapidly. If Mrs. O'Meara got to hear of this in connection with Eddie, goodness knows what would happen. Ever since their father had died she had regarded Eddie, the elder son, as head of the family. "You'd better get upstairs and go to bed," Tommy said, after a pause. "You're too scared to do any good. I'll take the car out of town some place and ditch it. Then I'll come back." "You mustn't do that," Eddie said. " Hearn wants that stuff." Tomy climbed into the car and groped for the starter. "Get to bed," he repeated sharply. "You're crazy!" Eddie almost shouted. " You're sticking your neck out. That car's hot." " I know," Tommy retorted grimly. " But do you think I'm going to let mother hear about what you've done? Go out to the BOY'S CINEMA street and give me the okay when there's no cop around." Eddie nodded and hurried to obey. A few seconds later Tommy swung out on to the highway and turned eastwards towards the Qucensborough Bridge that would take him to Long Island. EDDIE WANTS TO QUIT FOR a time he was lucky. He roared through the night traffic, and was soon lost amongst the home-going private cars and taxis. At such a time the police were too busy to note the number-plates of possible stolen cars. Had Tommy been used to driving under such circumstances, he would have turned the car into some quiet side-street and there deserted it. But he was afraid of being seen. So he drove across the bridge and was soon speeding along quieter roads that led to open country. He began to feel safe. A few more miles now, and it would be all over. But out here patrol cars were better able to keep check on passing traffic. The result was that shortly after he had passed a cross-roads he heard the scream of a siren behind him. He looked backwards through his driv- ing mirror. Headlights were winking at him, calling upon him to stop. He pressed the accelerator down to the floorboards. There was no chance of escape. The police car was capable of close on eighty miles an hour, while his own car could not do more than sixty. Besides, he wasn't too good a driver. A friend at the place where he worked had showed him how to drive a truck, but he was too young to be really expert. The police car drew up alongside, and a voice bawled at him: "Pull over and stop, sonny. It's going to be just too bad if you don't." For the briefest moment Tommy thought of driving on. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw the glinting muzzle of a police special. He put on his brakes. Two officers of the Highway Patrol climbed out of the other car and came over to him. They both had their guns out. " In a hurry, aren't you?" one of the men said. "You'd better get out. We want to talk to you." 1.1 Tommy obeyed. Expert hands frisked him for hidden wcapon.s. "rCm\ So you don't cany a gun, eh?' The officer who had spoken walked round to V-js front of the car and checked off the number from a notebook. "Are you the owner of this crate?" "No," Tommy replied. "You see, I " Then he broke off. He daren't try to explain. "Driving with the owner's permission, ■perhaps?" "Well, no!" "Too bad. You see, son. this car has been reported stolen. You'll have lo do a lot of explaining if you want to get your- self in the clear." Tommy remained silent. There was nothing he could say. The other officer opened one of the rear doors and flashed a lamp inside. Then he let out a long whistle. "Furs!" he exclaimed. "Raw pelts of ermine!" He reached inside and pulled out a handful. "So you're one of Knuckles Malone's pals, huh? You were in that loft robbery to-night!" Still Tommy said nothing. "We're taking you in," the first officer said, and added by way of an after- thought : " You crazy young fool! Getting mixed up in a thing like this at your age!" Tommy turned and walked slowly over to the police car. At noon the following day Tommy ap- peared before the judge of the Citv Juvenile Court. The charges were read over, and the police and various other people gave evidence. When these formalities were completed, the judge turned to Tommy. Next to Tommy sat Knuckles Malone. "Well, young man," the judge said, "you seem to have got yourself into a pretty bad mess." He spoke kindly. " What have you got to say for yourself?" Tommy swallowed hard. He knew that behind him, sitting in the well of the court-room, were his mother and Eddie. "Nothing, judge," Tommy answered. "Nothing?" The judge frowned. " Nothing at all?" "Nothing except that I'm very sorry," Tommy amended. The judge shook his head. "I'm afraid that expressions of regret are not of much help at this stage," he said. " It is obvious from your age that you have been led astray by older companions. October 28th, 1939.