Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

10 The gun was snalclied oul of his hand as Bill and Sid flung themselves on tho detective. He managed to flrattcn out one ruffian with a hefty punch before they got him pinned down across the table. Several more of the gang had appeared, so that five were holding him down. "Take away that sacking," ordered Marlow. His face was gloating with triumph. "Not quite so clever as you thought, my dear Vincent! And now for the final act." He beckoned, and a man came forward with a mask, a cylinder and various tubes. "We are going to give you a mixture of chloro- form and ether first, then another gas that will keep you under for several hours. Then you will be placed on the mire of our beautifid sewers to await tho tide. Good-bye—sorry I can't shako hands with you, old boy." "You murderer I" yelled Vincent, struggling dRperately. "If I could get free I'd wring your neck." "I'd rather not." Marlow niotioned to a white, flabby-faced evil little man of Slavonic origin. " Doctor, your patient !" Struggle as he might, Vincent could do nothing. Soon the nozzle was over hi-i mouth, and then everything went black. The gang stood away, and Marlow 4urveyod his victim. "The syringe," he ordered. "I'll fill him so full of cocaine that it will leave no doubt. In half an hour take him down into tho sewers." The drug had been injected, and the final dose of gas administered when Mc.rlow donned hat and coat. "I'm flying to England witliin the iiour. You stay here, and don't bungle this business," were his crisp orders. " Ir a short while place Floyd on the mud. Remain here until further orders." He bowed in mockery to the gassed detective. The Paris Sewers. TWO hours had passed. Long since Marlow had sped away with Morella Arlen for England. The cellar was deserted. The gang } ad done their work, and had gone up- stairs to celebrate tlieir foul work. Into the cellar .stole Marion Lee. This was her first chance of getting away iniscen from the too attentive madamc .— from w-hom she had learned the fate of Vincent Floyd. Desperately the girl tugged at the iron ring, but it would not move. She was not strong enough to open the trapdoor, but, Marion would not give up. She know where the sewer entered the Seine, and perhaps the tide might carry Floyd towards tho entrance. And as Marion ru.shed out of the Chat Noir to find a V)Oat Vincent Floyd was battling for life. His fitness and strength had saved him so far. Tho niajority would have been overcome by the gas, drugs and sewer water, but Vincent possessed stubborn vitality. For two hours he had lain on the mud, and at last tho water had lapped round his feet. Another hour passed, and the water was rippling over and around him. Sometimes a current banged his legs and head against the slimy, smelly walls of the sewer, but the detective showed no signs of life. But wiien foul water poured into liis jpen mouth }io spluttered and stirred. Everything was vague and distorted, lut the desire to live made him struggle .o get back his strength. Somehow he pulled himself on to a higher mud- October 3rd, 1931. BOY'S CINEMA bank and lay there prone whilst the water splashed over his feet. His whole body was limp, his head ached, and he longed to give up the figiit. The tide came in with a rush and weakly he tried to keep afloat. His head began to cleajc of the gas fumes and his strokes became stronger. A dim light pervaded the sewer, and he wondered from whence it came. Soon his strength would go and he would drown. "Vincent! Vincent!" A voice was calling, and at once his mind com- pletely cleared. Strength came back with a rush—Marion's voice, and it brought a message of hope. Strongly he struck out towards the light, and coming round a bend saw a narrow pinprick ahead. "Vincent! Vincent!" cried Marion. "I'm here!" he shouted back. "Keep on calling." Her voice helped to guide him and give him encouragement to fight against the foul odours of the sewer. The patch of light grew larger and larger, and at last Vincent managed to reach rusty iron bars. Outside was a boat and an anxious Marion. "Thank heaven you're safe!" she gasped. "There's no time to waste, as the water will soon be over this grating." "Push that oar between the bars," cried Vincent, but the iron was mucli too strong. "Can I go for help?" wailed a white-faced Marion. "The water rises so swiftly." "Back away, my girl." Vincent still managed to smile though death was so close. "I'm going to dive down through the mud and try to get through imdcrneath this grill; but listen first. If I don't get througli, get in touch witli the Yard and tcH them what happened. How they drugged mc and put me on the mud of the sewer like Hirst." "I've already been in touch with the Yard," was her reply in anguished tones. "Oh, don't waste time, but try to get through the mud, and you must get through—for my sake !" "That gives mo double strengtli," waj his fearless reply. "Here goes!" Gurglings and many bubbles and what seemed hours passed. The girl was almost on the point of screaming hysterically when out'of the river bobbed a iiuiddy head. "Help me in!" spluttered Vincent. "That stench nearly finished me!' Sid and two of the gang stared down through the open trapdoor. One of the gang held a powerful torch in his hand. "Floyd's not there!" shouted Sid. "Listen, do you hear that voice; it's that danged girl. I always thought she was a spy. Floyd's escaped, and we'll all swing if we don't stop him!" "What can we do?" moaned the flabby-faeed rascal known as the "Doctor. " "Can we get a boat and " "Too late; he'll be free!" Sid clenched his fists. "Floyd wilt charter a machine and fly back to England. Marlow was fo sure of killing Floyd that ho talked a lot, talked enough to put us all in queer street. We've got to pick up the trail of Floyd and the girl at once. Sliould they fly to England we can follow in the 'plane that the bo.ss keeps in that hangar near Lo Bourget; there's a machine-gun on board and we'll bring them down. Come on, let's get going," Every Tuesday The Fight in the Air. VINCENT FLOYD was an ex- perienced pilot and had no diffi- culty in borrowing a machine from the aerodrome at Le Bourget. Marion had got him some clean clothes and found a place where lie could remove some of the evil-smelling traces of the sewer, then a fast car had taken them to the aerodrome. Vincent soon obtained suitable flying-kit for himself and Marion. "We're going to see a lot of each other when this is through," Vincent said to her before she climbed into the passenger cockpit, and the light in her eyes gladdened his heart. Vincent had decided that no time could be wasted on telling the French police all that had happened, but planned to speak to Croydon from his machine, which was fitted with wireless. It was late afternoon when tho machine gracefully took off and they soared away over France towards the Channel and England. All went well vmtil halfway over the Channel, when Vincent cursed under his breath and spoke by telephone to his passenger. "Fog-bank!" came liis clipped words. "I shall soon have to ask Croydon for bearings. Comfortable ?" "Fine!" A pause. "Vincent, there's a machine about a mile behind us. I've noticed them for some while. They're gaining. Could they be following us?" "I shouldn't think so," came his answer. "I'll pusli the bus a bit faster, in case of accidents." The following machine drew closer and closer and anxiously Marion watched. A powerful monoplane, and she could read the markings. Were they genuine? Why should she feel so uneasy ? The machine was directly behind them and about two hundred yards' range when there sounded a sinister plop, plop, plop, and bullets whined dangerously close to their heads. " 'Vincent, they're some of Marlow's gang!" came her warning. "The fog will save us if I can reach those banks," Vincent answered. "Hold tight, dear, I'm going to try and shake these fellows off. Hold tight, Marion !" Morella and Marlow weve still at the Croydon Aerodrome. Marlow was cursing and fuming, but ho had already learnt that Morella was a very deter- mined woman. She had decided that she would like to be shown over tlie aerodrome, and a word to Jim Lancer had gained the permission. She had grandly swept aside all Marlow's objections. ■They c.ime at last to a dome-shaped ofiice of glass with a gallery outside. A tired official was explaining various gadgets to Morella whilst Marlow stifled a yawn. A loud speaker blared forth, and the , official explained. " There is a fog over the Cliannel. That is one of our pilots telling us his altitude. I sliall get one of my operators to instruct our man to go up five hundred feet, because there is a Belgian 'plane returning to Europe flying on his present altitude. In this way a collision is avoided. We keep in touch with all our pilots by wire- less." He broke off to hurry over to Marlow. "You mustn't touch those instruments, sir. They regulate our ground signals." KContinaed on page 26.)