Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

6 hospitality ol our poor mission to you," he said. "It's practically deserted. There are only a few brothers there besides myself a)id wo have no comforts. But if there's any other way in which I could be of service " "Thanks," said Brass. "Perhaps you could tell me where I could find a place called Santa Margarita. It's in tliese jnountains somewhere."' Tlie priest raised his eyebrows. "There are so many places of that name in this locality," he answered. "If you could tell me what you expect to find in the Santa Maigarita you are looking for, perhaps I could direct you." "Well, I don't quite know what it is I'm looking for until I get there," Brass answered. "A friend, perhaps'/" "Not exactly," Brass said dryly. "Ah! A relative?" the priest laughed. "Yes, that's right," Brass said. "He's first cousin to a snak'e." "Er—you know this man?" "No. I don'l know him." "And .yet you dislike him." Tlie priest's voice was very gentle. "That's strange—very strange." "He had a friend of mine killed up in one of the border towns," said Brass. "That's why I don't exactly like him." The priest sighed heavily. " Perhaps you had better come to the mission with me after all," he said. "I think that would be best—for your own pro- tection. You arc in the mood to get your- self into a great deal of Jrouble." "Thanks, Father." "Not at all. You will be most welcome, I a.ssure j'ou." The old car chugged along. After about ten minutes they skirt«d the side of a liill and the mission stood revealed. It was a small group of buildings constructed of stone and surmounted by a bell-tower. "It's a beautiful old place," Bra.ss said suddenly. "But whoever built it certainly put it at the end of nowhere." "It used to be in the centre of a mining district," the priest explained. "Alas, the mines have given out, and the country around is now deserted." He stopped the cai-, climbed out, and started unloading some of the packages in the back. Brass got out also. "Let me help you," he said quickly. "Thank you," the priest answered grate- fully. "Bring an armful and follow me." He turned away and walked towards the mission. Brass got hold of a case of stores and made to follow. Then he slopped and stared. As the priest walked Bra.ss could see that lie had a wooden leg. A wooden leg! "WHAT'S THE USE?" THE priest, uiit realising what Brass had .seen, went on chatting offhandedly. "We can grow so little here," he said over his shoulder. "The ground is poor. So we have to get our supplies from the town at the other end of this little load. It rather looks as though I was in the grocery business, doesn't it?" He put down the load he was carrying so that he coiild open the dotu-. Then he turned and saw that Brass was slaring. "Is anything the matter, my friend?" he inquired. Brass tensed himself. He had walked into trouble and he knew it. "What did .vou say the name of this mission was?" he asked. "I didn't say." the priest replied. "But so long as you want to know, it's called Santa Margarita de las Rosas." "St. jMargaret of the Roses, huh?" asked Brass. He was playing for time, trying to figure out his next move. "'I'liat is quite correct," said the priest. "Would it be the Santa Margarita you're looking for, by any chance?" Brass stared at him evenly. "It is," ho replied. "And you know it, don't you ?" Tlir> priest smiled. Suddenly his hand Jaiuiarj 27tli 1940. BOY'S CINEMA appeared from under his cassock, and in it was a small stub-nosed revolver. "Regrettable. Isn't it?" he said softly. "No sooner do you find what you are look- ing for than you are no longer able to make use of it." "Ail right," said Brass. "You wio—for the moment. What now?" "Well, my young friend, I suppose I can give you credit for not engaging in any tmdertaking without realising its possible con- clusion." "Which means that you're going to murder me," said Brass calmly. "Well, it's a nice day for it." "And also a nice day for associating with first cousins of snakes?" "Well, perhaps I was not quite right there," said Brass. "I was a bit hard on the snakes. Some of them have a few good qualities here and there." He got home that time. The priest scowled with rage, and Brass saw his finger tighten- ing on the trigger. He flung himself side- ways, but he Vas a fraction of a second too late. Something hit him like a hammer in the chest, and he went over backwards. The door of the mi.ssion opened suddenly and a man appeared. It was Ross. "Hallo, Parker," Ross said. "What's going on here?" The priest went to Brass and looked down. He saw a neat hole in Brass's shirt. "A government man," the priest said. "And I am afraid I've killed him. Well, it will save a great deal of trouble." "What are you going to do with the body?" Ross asked. "Leave it wliere it is for the moment. No one ever comes up here. WJien darkness falls I win dispo.se of it. Help me with the stores." They picked up a case apiece and went in- side. It was then that Brass suddenly came to life. The bullet had hit him all right, but he was not even scratched. The small book that Gabby had given him, reinforced by a cigarette-case, had acted as a plate of armour. Brass was lucky enough now. He sprang to his feet and leapt into the car. Quickly lie put his foot on the starter, engaged the gears and swung in a short circle. A bullet whipped past his head as he turned on to the road. Another smacked into the back of the car as he swung round a corner of rock and swayed down towards the town. There was another car behind the mission buildings, and Ro.ss, Decker accompanying him, climbed into it and started, off in pur- suit. But the road was tricky, and a bad car was as speedy as a good one downhill over a surface like that. Brass roared downwards towards the railroad, and the two who were following him did not get near to him until he was already in the outskirts of the town. They braked their car suddenly as Brass was brought to a halt by a police cordon. Ross raised an automatic pistol, but Decker knocked down his hand. "Not now. you fool !" he said. "He's safe enough for the time being. We'd better hang around and see what happens." Brass was seized by the police and taken into the police-station. But he did not mind any more. He had found the S(>cr(>t head- quarteis of the counterfeit gang, and the i-est was up to Saxby. A police captain confronted Brass, grinning. "So you thought you could get away from us, yes?" he said. "Listen," Brass said. "I'm a Secret Service operative, and I've got to get into touch with Washington." The police captain's grin broadened. "You wish us to set you free so that you can go to your Washington, eh?" he asked. " That's right. Those men up at the mission are a gang of dangerous counterfeiters. I haven't much time—unless I act quickly they will get away and they will lake the papeis, the chemicals and the plates with them. In less than a month they'll be turning out dnd money by the carload somewhere else." "Indeed?" said the police captain politely. Every Tuesday Brass saw that the man did not believe him. He tried again. "Now look! Let's get this siraight." he said. "All you have to do is to send a telegram to Washington, and everything will be all right." The police captain just went on giimiing. "You have credentials—a badge or some- thing, yes?" he asked interestedly. "Of course not," Brass answered. "I couldn't carry a lot of junk around on a job like this." The police captain laughed openly at that. "The senor is a very lucky hombr«^," he remarked. "This country, she is very generous. She not kill men who are loco. No. She put them in prison for life." Brass sighed. This argument was begimiing to get him down. He looked around. This other police were all grinning broadly. And there were too many of them to make any chance of escape even remotely possible. "I'm not crazy," he said sharply. The police captain patted him on the shoulder indulgently. "Then the senor thinks I am very stupid," he said genially. "You see, I have known the padre of the mission for many a year. He is a good man. He is saint. Yet you say he is counterfeiter. Then I say that you arc loco— or that you lie." "Him a saint!" Brass exclaimed. "The old devil tried to kill me." The police captain decided that all this had gone far enough. He turned to some of hir men and said briefly: "Throw him in the calabozol" Brass decided to have just one more try. "Wait a minute!" he said. "Has this padre you're speaking about got both of his legs?" "Of course," came the slightly surprised reply. "Then the man at the mission now hasn't," said Brass. "He's got only one. Which means that he's masquerading as the padre." The captain began to realise that perhaps there might be somethijig in Brass's story, after all. "How do I know you are telling the truth about this leg, senor?" he asked. "Take your men up there. You'll find that the padre you know is either a prisoner or dead." The captain shrugged. "1 still think you he," he said shortly. Brass sighed. "Look here," he said, "take a chance on it. Send that telegram to Washington. You'll find that I'm tellinc; the truth. We'll have the answer within an nour." The captain thought for a minute, then shrugged. He got hold of one of his men, and gave rapid instructions . The man went out, wrapped a blanket round his shoulders, put on a haversack and water-bottle, and mounteii an aged donkey. Brass could see him making all these preparations through the open doorway. "Does he have to do all that just to send a telegram?" he asked. "Assuredly, senor," the captain answered. "We do not have a telegraph office here. It is at the next station, and there are no further trains to-day. Your telegram will be sent first thing to-morrow morning." "And you're going to hold me prisoner until to-morrow ?" "Of course." Brass put his head in his hands and groaned. "Oh, what's the use!" he exclaimed in despair. The police took him to a cell and thrust him inside. Then they locked the door on him. Brass went moodily to the barred window, and stared out. The sleepy Mexican passeis- by took not the slightest interest in him. They had seen men in the calabozo so often before —most of them had been there themselves. Suddenly Brass hoard someone whistling. The tune sounded familiar—he had heard it so often before. "Cabby!" he called softly. Gabby had been walking along on the other side of the street. He stopped and stared, then he came over. "Gosh, it's a good thing I found you," ho said. "Been getting yourself into a spot of trouble, I see. How did you get in there?" "Never mind about that now," Brass answered. "The point is. you've got to gft me out. By the way, how did you know I'd bo somewhere around here ?"