Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

Every Tuesday BOY'S CINEMA 11 He wanted to be boss of gangland, eventually attained his ambition, then decided to quit—but there was no turning backo A thrill-loaded crook drama, starring Lew Ayres and Robert Elliott, a Paying the Penalty. BAETY'S BILLIARDS HALL was situated above some half-dozen shops in Harper Street, which was perhaps the most notorious street in Charlesworth. Here resided many of the racketeers who infested the city, men who terrorised tlie populace with their frequent use of the gun. A heated word or two or some trivial grievance and guns would bark viciously, exacting a grim toll. And often among the casualties of these gang feuds would be an innocent citizen or two, unfortunates who happened to be in the line of the leaden messengers of death. On this particular day in December the underworld of the city seemed strangely quiet. Not a single shot had been heard in the streets and it was now nearly nine o'clock. The calm before the storm. So said half the populace, which included the •entire police force, who knew ttic gangsters only too well. But the minutes ticked by and still peace reigned. Ten o'clock came, and it was as a distant church clock was striking the hour that a closed-in car drew up ai; the entrance to the billiards hall and a man sprang out of the back to the sidewalk. Of medium height, he was young and with a cruel, thin face from which grey-green eyes gleamed with a murderous expression. "You know what to do?" He turned and thrust his head in at the open window at the front of the car where a shadowy figure sat behind the steering-wheel. There came a murmur of assent, and the young man smiled grimly. "Right, then see you make no mistake." He jerked a thumb towards the back of the vehicle. "Red ia well acquainted with his part of this little affair, see?" The other r^odded, then the thin-faced one crossed the pavement and sped up the stairs that led to the billiards hall. In at the door of the spacious room he went, his sinister eyes search- ing the faces of the men who were play- ing at the tables and the faces of those who were clustering around watching those who wielded the cues. Eventually he located the man he sought, an ugly-faced ruffian who had just made a shot on a distant table and failed to sink the object ball. Another second and he was confronting the fellow, whispering in his ear: "Oh, yeah!" The unprepossessing rascal set aside his cue and his face took on a brutal expression. "Where is Red, then?" "Outside in the car. Monk, and Spike's with him," came the sibilant answer. "Now get moving. I'll take your knock—save spoiling the game." "Okay with me." Monk turned to the three men with -whom he had been playing a four-hand of snooker. "Say, boys, Mileaway'U take my place. Mind?" They shook their heads and, as Steve Mileaway took up the discarded cue. Monk strode quickly from the hall. Down the stairs he went two at a time, darted across the pavement, and dived into the waiting car, the door of which was swung open for him. Next second tfie door was slammed and the vehicle slid away from the kerb, gathering speed rapidly. A short run, then it slid to a standstill before a small house in a quiet and deserted street. "You all set, Red?" Monk watched the man who was with him in the back of the car draw out from under the seat an ugly-looking machine-gun, then, smiling grimly, he opened the door of the limousine and jumped out. One long stride and he was beside the driver, as sinister-looking a rascal as himself, whose hat-brim was pulled low over cruel grey eyes. "Spike, don't you forget to beat it like hell the moment I shout, see ?" The other nodded, then after a quick glance round to make sure there was no one about Monk ran to the door of the small house and knocked loudly. A woman answered his summons, and nodded in recognition. "You want Whitey?" she inquired. "Sure I do." The rascal gave her a disarming smile. "You might tell him that I want him urgent like." She said she would do so, and closed the door. A sneer curling his cruel thin lips. Monk returned to the car, climbed inside, and noted with satis- faction that Red had the machine-gun in position, trained on the door he hud just left. A moment or two of waiting, then the door of the small house was again opened and a man came into view. "Now, Red, let the skunk have it!" came RIonk's rasping voice. "Double- cross us, huh? Well, this is where he gets his in plenty !" Scarce were the vicious words out of his mouth than the quiet was shattered by the staccato reports of the machine- gun belching out its leaden hail of death. A terrified shriek as the victim at the first dread note of the gun, tried frantically to leap back into the safety of the hallway behind him. But ail in vain. Next second half a dozen bullets slammed into his tremb- December lOtb, 1931.