Boy's Cinema (1935-39)

10 tlie birthday, and this was added fuel to the inspector's wrath. "Get out!" he bellowed. "Get out, Mr. Sylvester Mahoney, because I'm looking for myself for murder!" The warden was only too glad to escape, and he almost ran from the building. Piper shouted at the top of Ins voice for a detective-sergeant named Kane, and after an interval a short and very tubby person put his head in at the door—a head from which a well-worn slouch hat had not been removed. "Did you call, inspector?" inquired the owner of the face and the hat. "Did I call ?■" snapped Piper. "What did you think I was doing—singing? Send out a general alarm for Donald Gregg." "Yes, sir," responded Kane. "What do we want him for?" "For the murder of Violet Feverel," was the reply. A Shock for Miss Withers BARBARA—whose surname was Foley, just as her sister's had been before she had adopted the name of Feverel for stage purposes— was alone in the flat on the fifth floor c I the apartment-house in East Eighty- Sixth Street when she heard a sound as of someone trying to open the front door. Instantly she rushed into the bed room and returned from it with the automatic in her hand. A key grated in the lock, the door swung wide, and Don Gregg entered the sitting-room, but stopped short and held up bis hands at sight of the girl and the gun. "Don't shoot!" he pleaded hoarsely. "I'm Don Gregg. Who are you?" "Oh!" Tho gun drooped in Barbara's hand. "I'm Barbara," she said in rather a shaky voice. "Violet's sister. I—I thought you were in gaol." "I was," said Don, closing the door. "I got out last night." "Last night?" she gasped. "Oh!" "What's the matter?" He followed her'as she sped to the little desk on which a telephone reposed. "What are you going to do?" She pointed the gun at him again. "Stay where you are!" she sluilled. "I'm going to call the police!" Outside the canopied entrance of the building Miss Withers descended from a taxicab and handed the driver the exact fare registered on the clock, much to his disgust. She was crossing the pavement when a newsboy thrust a special edition of the "Chronicle" upon her. and she paid for that, too, because she had caught sight of enor- mous headlines: "INSPECTOR PIPER PREDICTS ARREST IN TWENTY FOUR HOURS OF FEVEREL MURDER SUSPECT." She looked at a picture of Don on the front page beneath the headlines, and she made a grimace at a picture of Detective-Inspector Oscar Piper which was close beside it, then folded the paper and marched firmly into the building and entered a lift. Up on the fifth floor Don Gregg had persuaded Barbara not to telephone the police, and had listened in apparent astonishment to her statement that his former wife had been murdered early that morning. " f came here to see Violet," he bold her. "I didn't know she was dead." Tho doorbell rang, and they looked at one another in dismay. " Don't answer it," whispered Don. " Maybe they'll go away." Rut it, was Miss Withers at the door, and she had no intention of going away. September 26th, imo. BOY'S CINEMA She continued to press the bell-button till at last Barbara bundled Don Gregg into the bed-room and opened the door. "Hallo!" said Miss Withers, brush- ing past her and stopping beside a little table near the chesterfield. " I hope I'm not disturbing you. I just dropped in to ask a few more questions about your sister." "But I've told you everything I know," protested Barbara, trying not to appear flustered. "Really, I have." There was a briar pipe on the table, and Miss Withers bad not failed to notice it. "Do you smoke?" she asked abruptly. "Yes, a little bit." Miss Withers picked up the pipe and found that it was warm. "But not a pipe, I hope?" "Oh, that—er—that belongs to " "To the man hiding in the other room," Miss Withers completed for her, and raised her voice. "Come out, young man." Don Gregg came out from the bed- room. The collar of his overcoat was still turned up about his neck, but his hat was on the back of his head, and his grey eyes were defiant. "This is Miss Withers from the police," said Barbara. "And you're Don Gregg," said Miss Withers, walking over to him with the newspaper in her hand. "Don't yo\i think it's kind of silly for you to come here?" "I came to see Violet." he stated, removing his hat. "I didn't know she was dead." "Don't lie to me!" "I'm not lying to you!" he retorted. "What did you do after you got out of gaol last night?" He went over to the table on which he had replaced the pipe, and he thrust the pipe in his overcoat pocket. "Why," he said slowly, "I went to a Turkish bath." "Then what did you do?" "W T ell, I slept there, and this morn- ing I came here." She looked at him steadily for several seconds. "All right," she said then, "if that's the truth come down to headquarters and tell your story to the police." "And get thrown back in gaol?" he scoffed. "I should say not!" Barbara ran to him, caught hold of his arm. "I think you'd better go, Don," she said. "If you're innocent," said Miss Withers, "you have nothing to worry about. And. besides, I have a great deal of influence with Inspector Piper." "All right," growled Don, and he restored his hat to his head and went out from the flat with her. There was a uniformed attendant at the entrance to the building and Miss Withers asked him to get a taxi. Detective-Sergeant Kane was lurking on the pavement with a colleague con- siderably taller than himself, but he did not know Miss Withers, and Miss Withers did not know him. "Are you sure it's going to be all right ?" asked Don nervously while the attendant was trying to find a taxicab. "Now don't you worry." Miss Withers returned reassuringly. "Leave every- thing to me." They moved towards the kerb, but Kane suddenly swooped. "Well, where d'you think you're goin'?" He demanded harshly. "And what do you think you're doing?" .Miss Withers retorted. "I'm arresting l>oth of you in the name of the law !" Ev\r EvVy Tuesday "B-but you can't!" she cried indig- nantly as he flashed his badge. "I'm a friend of the inspector's. I'll show you." She opened her handbag and fumbled in it, intensely annoyed because a crowd was gathering round them. But Kane peered into the bag. "Here, watcha got?" he cried, and plunged his own podgy hand into the bag and brought forth a small but very serviceable six-shooter. "A rod, eh? W 7 ell, you never can tell." "I was looking for my courtesy badge," she said as laughter rang out behind her. "What badge?" "The one the inspector gave me." "Lemme see it." "Just a minute." Miss Withers searched, but searched in vain. "I must have left it at home," she said blankly. "Oh, sure!" jibed the detective. "On the bureau. Right beside the permit for this!" He pocketed the gun and produced a pair of handcuffs, and having snapped one of the steel bracelets round Don's wrist he gripped her fiercely by the arm and snapped the other one round hers. "Call the wagon, Jim," he directed gruffly. A patrol wagon arrived while the crowd grew in numbers, and the manacled pair were ordered to get into it. "But you can't do this to me!" stormed the spinster. "Oh, I can't, eh?" Kane bundled her up into the wagon while his colleague dealt with Don. "Well, it's done, ain't it?" To the accompaniment of more laughter from the onlookers he followed his prisoners into the vehicle, and the doors were closed and fastened. Some half-hour later the self-import- ant little detective swaggered into Piper's office at headquarters with an expansive smile on his fat face, and Piper looked up at him from his desk. "Well, what's on your mind?" snapped the inspector. "It's Gregg," replied Kane boast- fully. "I nabbed him right outside the apartment-house—him and a dame." "Nice work," approved Piper. "Bring 'em in." Kane went to the door, which he had left open, and shouted into the ante- room. " Come on, you!" Handcuffed 'together, Don Gregg and Miss Withers walked past him into the office, and the expression on Piper's face as he viewed the female prisoner W«S B study in mixed emotions. "Hildegarde!" he exclaimed. Miss Withers held up her light hand, and with it Icon's left hand, and the inspector laughed again at sight of the handcuffs. "Kane," he gurgled, "you ought to be promoted for \h\>" "You're as funny as a cry for help!" cried Miss Withers with a sniff. "All right. Kane," chuckled Piper, "take the cuffs off." "I was afraid," said the spinster as the discomfited little detective obeyed, "that we were going to have to get married. Oscar, 1 told Mr. Gregg that you'd just ask him a few questions' and let hiin go." All trace of amusement faded from Piper's lean features. "Oh," he said with BarOBBDB, "so I'm just going to ask him a couple of questions and let him go?"