Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday Simon held several of them up to (he light. "Thcv all look alike to mo," he said. Pat smiled sweetly and turned to the bo.vs. "You can leave the parcels over there." she said. "Have the things charged up to Mr. Macgregor of the ' Gazette.' " One of the boys knew enough English to Ret her meaning, and he translated. The boys put down their parcels and went away. Simon glared at Pat wrathfully "When Mac gets to hear of this," he said, "there'll be the devil to pay." "You said you could have a free hand over expenses, darling," she retorted, "so everything is all right." And by way of changing the subject, she went on: "Don't forget that we have to go and see Mr, Swindon at nine-thirty." Simon nodded. He forgot all about the shopping. "At nine-thirty," he said slowly, "we are going to find things out. Swindon evidently has a lot of information that ought to be useful. Let's go and eat, and get ready for it." She nodded eagerly, and hurried into the bed-room to change for the evening. KNIFED ! SWINDON lived in a sn\all apartment house not far from the main street of Paris—the Champs Elysees. Simon and , Fat clini'jed the stairs and stopped out- side a door. ' "Don't let's stay too long," Pat said. "I haven't really started to see Paris yet." Simon gave her a severe look. "We're not hce to see Paris, but to do a job of work," he said. "I've told you that twice before." She pretended not to hear. "Aren't you going to Knock, darling?" she asked. Sim.on sighed deeply, and rapped on the panels. There was no answer. "That's funny! " Simon remarked. " He said he'd be in." He knocked again. "Hey, Swindon! It's Simon Drake! I'm I coming in." He tried the handle, and the door I opened. Swindon sat at an untidy desk BOY'S CINEMA with his back (ov.ards them. Simon grinned. " The lazy blighter's asleep," he said. "How the poor live!" He went across and shook the motionless figure. "Come on, wake up! You've got visitors." Then his hand fell away from Sv,'indon's shoulder. Swindon wasn't asleep! He was dead! The hilt of a knife stuck out just over his heart! "Pat," Simon said softly, "shut the door.' Pat obeyed, realising that something was wrong. She a^dvanced into the room, then stopped and closed her eyes. "Ugh!" she said. Then she pulled her- self together. Swindon's hand was hanging down by his side, and between the fingers was a cigarette. A thin spiral of smoke curled u.pwards from it. "He hasn't been dead more than a few minutes," Simon said, and took the cigarette from Swindon's hand. He crushed it out on an ash-nay. "This is rotten for you, Pat. I wish iiow I hadn't brought you." "Don't woiTy about me." Pat replied. "I'm perfectly all right. And since I am here. I might as well make myself useful. Shall I telephone to the police? ' She moved across to the telephone. Simon, staring down at the desk, spoke suddenly. "Wait!" he said. He pointed at a scribbling pad. "He must have been writing something when it happened." Pat looked over his shoulder. "It's in shorthand," she said. Simon bent lower and began to read. "'. . . I should even go so far as to say that the British Government's present policy is strangely similar to that pursued bv Charles II, and must inevitably . . .' That's all." • It's not very helpful," Pat remarked. "I'm not so sure." Simon's brain worked fast. "He must have been inter- viewing somebody—the man he had to see at nine o'clock. And he was killed while the man was talking to him." "Which ineans that we must find O'lt who he was iiUeiMcwmg,' Pat said quickly ' If v^e can ' He began fingeiing the papers on the desk. Ring up Mac ' 15 Pat picked up the phoQc. Apparently it went through a switchboard downstairs, for there was some delay in getting the number connected. When at last Pat got through, she did not know that it was not Mac speaking. The line had been tapped, and someone answered in an assumod voice. Quickly Pat gave details of Swindon's death. When she had finished, the voice asked: "Have you telephoned the police?" "Not yet. But I was just gouig to," Pat answered. "All right—we'll do it from this end. In the meantime, you two had better keep out of this." "Just a minute." Pat turned to Simon. "He says he'll get into touch with the police, and that we're to keep out of it." Simon nodded. "Maybe he's right." he answered. "Tell him Vr^e'll be out of here in five minutes, and that he's to keep my name out of it." Pat passed the message on, and hung up. Then, while Simon was still busy, she picked up the scribbling pad on which Swindon had made notes, and put it into her handbag. They left a short time later, and returned to theii- hotel. Then they were safely in their suite, Simon said: "Poor Swindon! He must have been well on the trail of those forgers. And it's up to us to go on where he left off. Now let me see —what have we got to work on?" Pat opened her handbag and took out the scribbling pad. "This for a start," she said. Simon stared at it, then took it from her. "Good life, woman," he exclaimed; "that's material evidence! You could be put into jail for pinching that." Pat. for once in her life, seemed slightly taken aback. "But I—I thought " "It's all right. We'll hand it over to the police." Then he remembered. "But we can't do that. They'll want to know He reached over and took the letter, and all the time his gun was pointed straight at Simon's chest December nd, 1939.