Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

16 BOY'S CINEMA " Don't you try to dictate to me, policeman. I run a newspaper, and I'm not afraid of you ! " why we didn't report the matter. My pet. you've done it this time!" Pat was looking distinctly uncomfort- able. '■But you told me to pick up anything that might be useful.' she said. "Or did .you? I forget" Simon sighed. "There's nothing to be done about it now, anyway," he said. "We'll get Mar to fix things for us in the morning. He's on pally terms with the French police— he'll be able to explain everything." But it was Mac who got into touch with them. Mac was an early riser, and as he sat down to his pla:e of porridge, he picked up the rival newspapers. And what he saw on the first of thcLTi almost made the eyes pop out of his head. 'Famous Journalist Dead!" the head- lines ran. "Found Stabbed in his Rooms! Monitor Reporter Makes Discovery!" Mac grabbed the telephone and called Simon's hotel. Simon was asleep when the bell rang, but he woke up quickly enough when he heard what Mac had to say. " You good-for-nothing scribbler!" Mac roared. "How was it ye missed that stovy about Swindon's murder? Why didn't you let me know about it?" Simon blinked in bewilderment. "Mac, you re crazy!" he replied. "I phoned you that story last night—at least Pat did. Swindon was dead when we got there, and we let you know right away. You said you would inform the police, and that we were to keep ourselves out of it." Mac made a noise like a gas explosion. "The pair of ye are scatty," he said. "Mrs. Drake did not phone me, and I never said any of the things you said I said." "She did, I tell you I was there when she spoke to you." "Now listen to mc, Drake," Mac growled. ' I dinna care what you and Mrs. Drake do while ye're in Paris. Go out and paint the town red if you want to. But don't get so drunk that you don't know what you're doing." He snorted loudly. " Here was a scoop right in your December :ii]il, loau. hand, and what happens? I hear about it by reading a rival newspaper!" "Oh, go and chase yourself! ' Simon bellowed. "Stop fooling for a minute, and listen. Swindon must have been interviewing somebody when he was stabbed, because I found some shorthand notes on his desk. I'll read them to you." He climbed out of bed and' got the scribbling pad. Quickly he read out the words, then went on : "Who was he interviewing, Mac?" "I havena the least idea." " Well, who might he have been inter- viewing who would have said anvthing like that?" "I still havena the least idea." Simon groaned. "A fat lot of good you are!" he snapped. Mac began to make indignant noises, so Simon hung up on him. He turned to Pat with the intention of telling her exactly what he thought of the Scotsman, but checked himself. Pat had an exti-emely pensive look on her face. Evidently she was thinking hard. "What now?" Simon asked. "You look as though you've got an idea. If it's any- thing like the one that made you take l^e scribbling pad, you'd better forget it." She smiled at him gentl.v. "I'm going to have such a busy day," she said. "Doing what?" "Shopping." "Again?" Simon laughed shortly "You're out of luck. I haven't any money. I've spent the last of mv francs, and the cash in my wallet is all mixed up wit a that counterfeit stuff." "That's all right." she said cheerfully. "All you hfve to do is come with me and write out a few cheques.' Simon .shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "I must go down to the office and smooth Mac over." "Listen, darlmg," said Pat patiently. "I'm in Paris. And when a woman's in Paris, she goes shopping. And it takes more than a stingv husband to stop her. See?" , Simon sighed deeply and climbed out of Every Tuesday bed again. He wrote a cheque and handed it to her. "And don't spend it all." he said. "If you do we'll have no money left to see the sights on." 'I won't spend it quite all, darling," Pat said, chuckling, and watched Simon enigmatically as he wandered off to the bath-room. As for the idea she had had, she was keepmg it strictly to herself for the moment. She had remembered that beneath Swindon's apartment was a large dress shop—one of the largest in Paris. She had also remembered that when she had phoned Mac, the call had gone through a private switchboard. But Mac had not received the telephone call. Yet someone had answered who had given her to understand that he was Mac. Another thing. The apartment had been too expensive for Swindon to live in for long, which meant that he had probably taken it temporarily so as to be able to follow some definite line of inquiry. And the line of inquiry must have been where the telephone call had been tapped. Decidedly, Pat thought, that dress shop was worth looking into. She felt rather pleased with herself over all that reasoning. She wasn't quite the nitwit Simon thought her, she told herself. ARRESTED! SIMON went along to the office later that morning, and he and Mac had a stand-up row. Each blamed the other for missing the story of Swindon's mysterious death. In the end they both agreed that some- one must have played the fool over that telephone call; but somehow neither of them could think who it could have been. Simon decided that he would go back to the hotel and talk it out with Pat. When he got there, he found two men waiting in his suite. One of them stepped forward briskly. " Good-morriing, Monsieur Drake." he said. "I am Inspector Roget of the Surete, and this is Sergeant Legros, m,v colleague." "How do you do?" Simon said politely. "We have come to examine your papers, monsieur," Inspector Roget went on. "We would like both you and your wife to accompany us to the Surete." "Certainly," said Simon. "But why not examine the papers here? So much 'more comfortable." He pulled some documents from his pocket. "My passport and my: wallet." - The inspector took them. He gave a brief glance at the passport and handed it back. Then he opened the wallet. " Quite a lot of English money. May I -; look?" 'I "Go right ahead," Simon answered. Then he remembered. " Oh, by the way, there are one or two forged notes amongst the others, and I should be veiv glad if you could tell me which are which." Inspector Roget raised his eyebrows El significantly. '°™ "Undoubtedly I shall be able to teU':' .vou which are which, monsieur," he re- marked dryly. "And perhaps monsieur will explain where he got these forgei" notes?" "Inspector Holly of Scotland Yard ga them to me." At that moment Pat came breezing i loaded up with parcels as usual. She sa' that Simon had visitors, and smilei brightly. "Good-morning, gentlemen," she sa "Turned out nice again, hasn't it?" Simon turned to Inspector Roget. "My wife can explain," he said. " will save you having to ask Inspectojt'; Holly. Pat, where did I get those phone,'"' notes?" "I don't know, darling," Pat replii indifferently. "You told me .you ma them yourself." Simon swallowed hard. If she was goi: to start fooling about, there was going to be trouble. shon He She