Detectives and Young Adventurers: The Complete Short Stories

‘This goddarned hatshtand, this goddamed hatshtand,’ said Mr Ryder tearfully. ‘Not like that in the Shtates. Man can hang up his hat every night – every night, sir. You’re wearing two hatshs. Never sheen a man wearing two hatshs before. Must be effect – climate.’

‘Perhaps I’ve got two heads,’ said Tommy gravely.

‘Sho you have,’ said Mr Ryder. ‘Thatsh odd. Thatsh remarkable fac’. Letsh have a cocktail. Prohibition – probishun thatsh whatsh done me in. I guess I’m drunk – constootionally drunk. Cocktailsh – mixed ’em – Angel’s Kiss – that’s Marguerite – lovely creature, fon o’ me too. Horshes Neck, two Martinis – three Road to Ruinsh – no, roadsh to roon – mixed ’em all – in a beer tankard. Bet me I wouldn’t – I shaid – to hell, I shaid –’

Tommy interrupted.

‘That’s all right,’ he said soothingly. ‘Now what about getting home?’

‘No home to go to,’ said Mr Ryder sadly, and wept.

‘What hotel are you staying at?’ asked Tommy.

‘Can’t go home,’ said Mr Ryder. ‘Treasure hunt. Swell thing to do. She did it. Whitechapel – white heartsh, white headsn shorrow to the grave –’

But Mr Ryder became suddenly dignified. He drew himself erect and attained a sudden miraculous command over his speech.

‘Young man, I’m telling you. Margee took me. In her car. Treasure hunting. English aristocrashy all do it. Under the cobblestones. Five hundred poundsh. Solemn thought, ’tis solemn thought. I’m telling you, young man. You’ve been kind to me. I’ve got your welfare at heart, sir, at heart. We Americans –’

Tommy interrupted him this time with even less ceremony.

‘What’s that you say? Mrs Laidlaw took you in a car?’

The American nodded with a kind of owlish solemnity.

‘To Whitechapel?’ Again that owlish nod.

‘And you found five hundred pounds there?’

Mr Ryder struggled for words.

‘S-she did,’ he corrected his questioner. ‘Left me outside. Outside the door. Always left outside. It’s kinder sad. Outside – always outside.’

‘Would you know your way there?’

‘I guess so. Hank Ryder doesn’t lose his bearings

–’

Tommy hauled him along unceremoniously. He found his own car where it was waiting, and presently they were bowling eastward. The cool air revived Mr Ryder. After slumping against Tommy’s shoulder in a kind of stupor, he awoke clear-headed and refreshed.

‘Say, boy, where are we?’ he demanded.

‘Whitechapel,’ said Tommy crisply. ‘Is this where you came with Mrs Laidlaw tonight?’

‘It looks kinder familiar,’ admitted Mr Ryder, looking round. ‘Seems to me we turned off to the left somewhere down here. That’s it – that street there.’

Tommy turned off obediently. Mr Ryder issued directions.

‘That’s it. Sure. And round to the right. Say, aren’t the smells awful. Yes, past that pub at the corner – sharp round, and stop at the mouth of that little alley. But what’s the big idea? Hand it to me. Some of the oof left behind? Are we going to put one over on them?’

‘That’s exactly it,’ said Tommy. ‘We’re going to put one over on them. Rather a joke, isn’t it?’

‘I’ll tell the world,’ assented Mr Ryder. ‘Though I’m just a mite hazed about it all,’ he ended wistfully.

Tommy got out and assisted Mr Ryder to alight also. They advanced into the alley way. On the left were the backs of a row of dilapidated houses, most of which had doors opening into the alley. Mr Ryder came to a stop before one of these doors.

‘In here she went,’ he declared. ‘It was this door – I’m plumb certain of it.’

‘They all look very alike,’ said Tommy. ‘Reminds me of the story of the soldier and the Princess. You remember, they made a cross on the door to show which one it was. Shall we do the same?’

Laughing, he drew a piece of white chalk from his pocket and made a rough cross low down on the door. Then he looked up at various dim shapes that prowled high on the walls of the alley, one of which was uttering a blood-curdling yawl.

‘Lots of cats about,’ he remarked cheerfully.

‘What is the procedure?’ asked Mr Ryder. ‘Do we step inside?’

‘Adopting due precautions, we do,’ said Tommy.

He glanced up and down the alley way, then softly tried the door. It yielded. He pushed it open and peered into a dim yard.

Noiselessly he passed through, Mr Ryder on his heels.

‘Gee,’ said the latter, ‘there’s someone coming down the alley.’

He slipped outside again. Tommy stood still for a minute, then hearing nothing went on. He took a torch from his pocket and switched on the light for a brief second. That momentary flash enabled him to see his way ahead. He pushed forward and tried the closed door ahead of him. That too gave, and very softly he pushed it open and went in.

After standing still a second and listening, he again switched on the torch, and at that flash, as though at a given signal, the place seemed to rise round him. Two men were in front of him, two men were behind him. They closed in on him and bore him down.

‘Lights,’ growled a voice.

An incandescent gas burner was lit. By its light Tommy saw a circle of unpleasing faces. His eyes wandered gently round the room and noted some of the objects in it.

‘Ah!’ he said pleasantly. ‘The headquarters of the counterfeiting industry, if I am not mistaken.’

‘Shut your jaw,’ growled one of the men.

The door opened and shut behind Tommy, and a genial and well-known voice spoke.

‘Got him, boys. That’s right. Now, Mr Busy, let me tell you you’re up against it.’

‘That dear old word,’ said Tommy. ‘How it thrills me. Yes. I am the Mystery Man of Scotland Yard. Why, it’s Mr Hank Ryder. This is a surprise.’

‘I guess you mean that too. I’ve been laughing fit to bust all this evening – leading you here like a little child. And you so pleased with your cleverness. Why, sonny, I was on to you from the start. You weren’t in with that crowd for your health. I let you play about for a while, and when you got real suspicious of the lovely Marguerite, I said to myself: “Now’s the time to lead him to it.” I guess your friends won’t be hearing of you for some time.’

‘Going to do me in? That’s the correct expression, I believe. You have got it in for me.’

‘You’ve got a nerve all right. No, we shan’t attempt violence. Just keep you under restraint, so to speak.’