The Car’s Freight
At nine o’clock next morning French rang up the number he had noted on
the Nelson Street boarding house telephone, and asked for Miss Molly
Moran.
“It’s in connection with our previous conversation, Miss Moran,” he
explained. “There is a fresh development which I want to discuss with
you. Will you meet me in half an hour at the same place as before?”
Though she agreed, French could sense the unwillingness in her tones.
“Very good of you,” he declared. “I’ll not keep you long.”
He greeted her pleasantly when she appeared, led the way to a deserted
seat in the Charing Cross Gardens, supplied her with a cigarette, and
for a few moments chatted of everyday matters. Then when she seemed
more at her ease he turned to business.
“What I want to see you about is this, Miss Moran,” he said more
gravely. “Since our last interview I have learnt that this matter of
Mr. Welland is even more serious than I thought. I want to tell you
what I know and to ask your further help. And first, are you quite
satisfied that I really am from Scotland Yard? Would you like to go
with me to the Yard where I am known?”
“Oh, no, Mr. French,” she answered hastily, “that’s not necessary at
all. I am perfectly satisfied.”
“Very good. Now I told you before that I believed you were in personal
danger from your association with this man. I want to tell you why I
think so.”
She did not reply, but sat with a bored expression, evidently trying
to conceal her interest.
“Nearly three months ago,” went on French, “a young lady named Thurza
Darke was sent to the Yard by a solicitor. This man had found out that
she had got into the clutches of a gang of crooks, and he sent her to
us for protection. Now, Miss Moran, this young lady was employed in
the box office of the Milan Cinema in Oxford Street. That is the first
point.
“She said that on her way to business she had met a young lady in the
train, a Miss Gwen Lestrange. She was a wealthy young lady, or seemed
to be, and they got talking about her money. As Miss Lestrange said
she was only a barmaid in a theatre, Miss Darke asked where it came
from. With some appearance of hesitation she was told it was from
gambling at second hand on the Monte Carlo tables. After further
conversation Miss Lestrange suggested that Miss Darke should have a
fling in the same way, and agreed to introduce her to the man with
whom she herself dealt. He was then called Westinghouse. They met here
in this garden, and Westinghouse arranged the gambling.”
There was no question now of Miss Moran’s attention. She was watching
French with tense interest, in fact with an expression almost of
horror.
He glanced at her with satisfaction.
“Is there any need for me to go on, Miss Moran?” he said gently. “Can
you not imagine the rest? How Miss Darke won fair sums at first and
thought she was going to make her fortune. Then how she began to lose;
how at last she got into debt to Westinghouse; how he became
threatening and swore he would report her to the cinema authorities;
how he threatened prosecution, imprisonment, until the poor girl was
almost beside herself with terror. You can picture it, can you not,
Miss Moran?”
That she could picture it in vivid detail was evident. Her eyes were
dilating and her face had paled.
“The remainder I’m sure you can imagine also,” went on French. “How at
this crisis Miss Lestrange turned up unexpectedly; how she was
sympathetically concerned about Miss Darke’s woebegone appearance, and
how she recommended recourse to her cousin, who, she said, had helped
her out of a similar difficulty. Then how this man played on Miss
Darke’s fears in order to entrap her in his evil schemes. Ah, I see I
needn’t go into it further. You evidently know as much as I do about
it.”
In truth the girl’s appearance left no doubt on the point. French,
pausing for a moment, continued:
“Now I must tell you something that had happened before. A very great
friend of Miss Darke’s, a young lady also employed in the box office
of a cinema, had recently died. She was a jolly, gay young thing, but
for several weeks she had appeared to be in trouble. Then one day she
disappeared and later her body was found in a pool in a quarry. There
was a verdict of suicide, but Miss Darke never believed she had
committed suicide. She said she was not that kind of girl, and she was
convinced that she had been murdered.
“Now Miss Darke had tried to get out of her friend the cause of her
trouble, but beyond the fact that it was due to some man who had got
her into his power, the girl would not say. But she had described the
man, and what had terrified Miss Darke was that the man to whom Miss
Lestrange had sent her exactly answered the description.
“This was his description: middling tall, thinnish, fair haired,
rather terrifying eyes, and”—French paused for a moment, then added—“a
purple scar shaped like a sickle on the inside of his left wrist.”
Miss Moran gave a little gasping cry. She had gone dead white and
swayed as if faint.
“Steady on, Miss Moran,” French said sharply, but in low tones. “You
don’t want to attract attention. You’re all right and perfectly safe.
Pull yourself together.”
With an evident effort the girl did so. She did not belie the evidence
of her firm little chin. Again French told himself she was a young
woman of character.
“You mustn’t be alarmed,” he went on. “I’m here to help you out of
your difficulties. We’ll discuss that in a moment. Meanwhile I must
finish my story.
“As I say, Miss Darke recognized the man, and very wisely she
temporized. If he would give her a couple of days to think it over she
would come to a decision. He agreed. By friends about whom I needn’t
explain she was persuaded to report the circumstances at the Yard.
Miss Moran,” French’s voice became very grave, “she was evidently
watched. That night she disappeared, and two days later her body was
found in the sea near Portsmouth. In this case there was no question
of suicide. The poor girl had been murdered before being thrown into
the sea.”
Once again his listener’s pallor grew deathlike, and once again with
an evident effort she pulled herself together.
“I have one other thing to tell you. Inquiries revealed the fact that
some five months before Miss Darke’s friend’s murder another young
lady was found drowned under suspicious circumstances. She also was in
the box office of a cinema. Absolute proof was not obtainable, but
there is no reasonable doubt that she also was murdered by the same
gang.”
French paused, carefully lit a cigarette, glanced keenly around and
resumed.
“From all this, Miss Moran, you will see that when I said I thought
you might be in personal danger I was basing my opinion on something
very real. I do not wish to frighten you unduly, but you must see that
unless some steps are taken it may be your turn next. Now the question
is, are you going to be wise and confide in me?”
She did not answer and French also smoked in silence to let the
question sink into her mind. Presently he went on: “There is also
another side of the affair which you must not overlook and about which
it is only fair that I should warn you. We now know so much about what
is going on that it is only a question of time before we learn it all.
If you are then found to be doing something illegal you will
undoubtedly be charged with conspiracy in the crime. If, on the other
hand, you do all you can to help the authorities, I will do all I can
to help you. Even if the matter should be too serious for me to keep
you out of court, your having turned King’s evidence would get you
off.”
It was evident that this view had not occurred to the young lady. She
looked even more frightened and unhappy, though still she did not
speak.
French grew impatient.
“Very well,” he said in sharper tones, “I warn you again that your own
safety requires that you should tell what you know, but if you won’t
take my warning I can’t help it. I am of opinion that here and now you
are carrying with you the object or objects which you will shortly
place in the secret panel of Mr. Welland’s car. I shall have to take
you into custody on a charge of conspiracy and have you searched so as
to find out what that article is.”
His conscience pricked him slightly as he spoke. Was this strictly in
accordance with the rules for the interrogation of a possible witness?
Then he thought he was justified. This girl would not incriminate
herself. He could swear she was innocent. And anything was good enough
for the murderers of Thurza Darke.
The girl gave a little cry.
“Take me into custody!” she whispered hoarsely. “Surely you wouldn’t
do a thing like that?”
“I certainly would. I am going to find out about this business at
whatever cost. Come now,” he went on more coaxingly, “be wise and come
in on the side that must win. As you are, you are running a terrible
risk.”
Though he spoke gravely, with secret delight he noticed signs of
breaking down. Miss Moran shivered and slow, long sobs shook her
frame. He remained silent and then at last he heard what he had been
hoping for.
“Oh,” she cried piteously, “but this is terrible altogether! I never
thought anything like this would happen to me. I didn’t mean any harm
and now look at the trouble I’m in. You’ll make it as easy as you can
for me if I tell you?”
“I have already promised, Miss Moran. Not only that, but you’ll feel a
weight off your mind. You can’t have been happy with this going on.”
“Happy! I’ve been miserable. God only knows how miserable I’ve been.
And if I have been making money, sure I’ve paid for it by the terror
I’ve been in. I’ll tell you everything.”
She was now sobbing freely and French once more urged her to control
herself lest attention should be drawn to her. Presently, in rather
tremulous tones she began.
“The whole thing happened just as you say, Mr. French. Every day I go
to business by the tube and it was there I met the girl you spoke of.
We got to be the best of friends, but all the time I was wondering
where she got her money. One day I asked her, and then she told me
about the gambling at Monte Carlo. She said if I would like a go at it
she would arrange it for me, all just as you said. She said the
bookmaker would meet us here. He did and he was the very man you
described. Och, but he was the terrible man, Mr. French! There was
something about his eyes that would give you the cold shivers. He was
the man you mentioned anyway, for I saw the scar on his wrist.”
“Ah,” said French with satisfaction. “Did he tell you his name?”
“He did. It was Style.”
“Good! That’s the man. And did you stake?”
“I did, and I won first and then I lost. At that time Gwen Lestrange
had got a job out of London and had gone away, but I met her by chance
and she asked me how I was getting on. When I told her she said she
thought her cousin could help me and she introduced me to him. That
was Mr. Welland.”
French was highly pleased. At last he was making progress. Welland and
Style had been concerned in the death of Thurza Darke, and already he
had Welland under observation. A little more of that observation would
undoubtedly lead him to Style.
He wondered why the two scoundrels had changed their respective roles.
In Thurza Darke’s case Welland (or Westinghouse) had been the
bookmaker and Style the cousin. In Molly Moran’s, Style was the
bookmaker and Welland the cousin. Probably, thought French, to divide
equally both the risks and the responsibilities. With some surprise
also he noted that while Welland had taken the precaution to change
his name, Style had not troubled to do so. No doubt for this also
there was a reason.
“Well, and what did Mr. Welland say to you?”
The girl was evidently trying hard for self-control. She had succeeded
in choking down her sobs, but her voice was still tremulous as she
went on.
“He was as pleasant and friendly as you’d wish. He said he was sorry
about my difficulties and that he could offer me a job which would not
only get me out of them, but would pay me well besides. And it
wouldn’t interfere with my work at the cinema, for all he wanted could
be done between times when I wasn’t selling tickets. He said it was
the fine easy job, but it had one thing about it that I mightn’t like,
and then he looked at me and asked me was I very strait-laced in my
ideas.
“Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. French, I’m not strait-laced at all.
So I did not, and he said that that was fortunate, as it was the only
drawback the job had. There were some strait-laced people who might
object to it, but not ordinary men and women of the world. Anyway it
was safe enough and absolutely moral and no one would ever know
anything about it. Besides I needn’t go on with it unless I wanted to.
“I asked him what the job was and he said that was going too fast, he
would have to have my word first to carry it out for at least a week.
After that I could go on or not as I liked. He said that if I promised
he would begin by giving me enough to square Mr. Style. Then he said
that maybe I would like a day or two to think it over and that I could
come back and see him again.”
“A plausible ruffian,” French commented, now speaking in his
pleasantest tones. “I’m sure that’s just what he said to your
predecessors. And what did you answer?”
The girl hung her head.
“Well, Mr. French, I’m not pretending I didn’t do wrong, but just
think of my position. I had only my job to live by and I was going to
lose it in a way that would have prevented me getting another. Then
there was this job offered me, maybe not just all right, but safe
anyway. It was a choice of two evils; of possible ruin if I accepted
or of certain ruin if I didn’t. I took the chance.”
“Of course you did. I can see the fix you were in and I’m not blaming
you.”
“Well, to make a long story short, I told Mr. Welland I would take his
job. He smiled and shook hands and congratulated me. He said I’d never
be sorry for what I was doing and then he handed me ten pounds, saying
that here was part of the money I owed Mr. Style and that if I paid
this much Mr. Style would certainly give me time to meet the rest. He
made me sign an I.O.U. for it, and he said I had better go and pay Mr.
Style at once.
“Next time Mr. Style came to the Gardens I was waiting for him. He was
very threatening at first, but when I showed him the ten pounds it
changed his manner. He said he was glad I wasn’t going to make trouble
and that he would take that on account and give me three more weeks to
find the other fifteen. He was so pleasant that in spite of the job I
felt easier in my mind than I had for many a day.”
“I don’t wonder,” French commented. “I think you did what any other
girl would have done in your position, though I suppose I should not
say so.”
“Mr. Welland had given me an appointment for two hours later and I met
him in Hyde Park. He told me that one of his friends was in the Mint
and had unexpectedly found a crate full of old half crowns in a
disused cellar. He supposed they had been called in for renewal and
been forgotten. The friend did not see why they should lie there, and
he began taking some home every evening. But he was afraid to get rid
of them, for some of them bore the Mint rejection mark. He had
consulted Mr. Welland as to how this might be done, and that was where
I came in. My job would be to pass out the half crowns to the public.
Every morning Mr. Welland would give me so many and I was to pay them
out in change at the pay-box. For every half crown I paid out I was to
put another aside from the till for Mr. Welland, and when I met him
next day I was to hand these over to him, less a percentage.”
“And did you believe his story?”
The girl hung her head.
“No,” she admitted in a low voice, “but as he put it it didn’t seem so
bad. He said the whole business, so far as I was concerned, was
perfectly honest. The half crowns were good and worth their full
value. My cash at the cinema could be examined at any moment and would
be found O. K. The only thing the most strait-laced could object to
was his friend’s taking these old coins from the Mint in the first
instance. But I had nothing to do with that.”
“And once again, did you believe that?”
“No,” and the girl’s voice was very mournful, “and I said I didn’t to
Mr. Welland. But it was no good. He said that if I felt the slightest
qualms about the matter, not to go on with it on any account at all.
He would be the last person to press me to do what I thought was
wrong. If I didn’t like it I could drop it. I had only to hand him
back his ten pounds and I would be clear of it.”
“He had you there.”
“He had me so that I couldn’t wriggle. I begged him to let me go, but
he said ten pounds were ten pounds, and that he couldn’t afford to
lose all that money and get nothing against it. Then I said I would
tell the police the whole thing. That annoyed him. He advised me just
to try it. He asked me did I imagine my story would be believed? There
was I without a scrap of proof, but he had my I.O.U. He said if I went
to the police it would be me that would go to prison for perjury and
defamation of character.”
“So you agreed to pass the money?”
“What else could I do, Mr. French? I owed fifteen pounds to one of
these men and ten to the other, and both said they would get me the
sack if I didn’t pay. And I hadn’t any money and they wouldn’t give me
time.”
Here, thought French in high delight, was something tangible at last!
A gleam of light was beginning to illumine these mysterious
happenings. With a keener interest he went on.
“You said less a percentage?”
“Yes, ten per cent. One half crown in every ten they let me keep.”
“And how many do you change per day?”
“Well, of course it varies, but it would be a bad day that I wouldn’t
change a hundred. The most I ever did was a hundred and forty-five.”
“Bless my soul, you’ve not been doing so badly! What have you been
making? Eight or ten pounds a week?”
“About that. As I say, it varies, but I generally get at least eight.”
French was astonished. No wonder this gang secured loyal helpers! With
her ordinary wages this girl must be in receipt of something not far
short of six hundred a year. He had certainly frightened her to some
purpose if she was willing to risk the loss of such an income.
“H’m,” he said with grim pleasantry. “It really looks like a case of
your money or your life. But I don’t want to keep you here too long.
From what you tell me it would be better that we shouldn’t be seen
together. Just explain how you carry the half crowns to and from the
cinema.”
“In my vanity bag.” She was about to open it, but French checked her.
“Don’t show me,” he said. “Explain.”
“There are three compartments in this bag. The centre one is like an
ordinary bag, and I keep my own things in it, handkerchief and so on.
The two side ones shut with a spring, and unless you examined the bag
very carefully, you wouldn’t know they were there. One of these spring
compartments is coloured red inside and the other green. In the red
one are the half crowns from Mr. Welland. As I take them out I put
other half crowns from the till into the green one. Sometimes I don’t
get all Mr. Welland’s changed, and the colours keep them separate.”
“Why do you only put in half crowns? Wouldn’t two shillings and a
sixpence from the till do as well?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Welland told me to put in half crowns only.”
Evidently to keep the percentage of coins of various values normal in
the till, French imagined. If so, it showed an attention to detail
which deserved success. He thought rapidly whether he had got all the
information he could expect from this particular source, and decided
that he had.
“Now, Miss Moran,” he said earnestly, “you must be careful of yourself
for a few days. Go straight home after your show and keep to populous
streets. Even in the daytime avoid lonely places. Don’t accept a
message from anyone you don’t know. Most important of all, don’t get
into any kind of a private car or taxi. This is not to frighten you,
but to keep you safe. A few days and we’ll have the gang and then you
will be all right. One other thing: if you notice anything in the
least degree suspicious, ring me up—Victoria 7000. You will find
plenty of help if you’re in trouble. You understand all that?”
“Oh, yes, Mr. French. And I can’t say how glad I am to have told you.
I was making money all right, but no money would be worth the terror
I’ve endured. Mr. Welland was always telling me that if the thing
leaked out I was done for. It would be the sack for certain and maybe
prison as well. I’ve been perfectly wretched and the relief is just
beyond words.”
French nodded gravely as the girl finished speaking. Another
explanation of the affair had just flashed into his mind, an
explanation so obvious that he could not understand why he had not
instantly thought of it. These coins had never seen the Mint! They
were forgeries. He would have staked long odds that he was on a gang
of counterfeit coiners.
If so he must get hold of some samples without delay.
“What have you got in your bag now?” he asked. “Coins from Mr. Welland
or from the till?”
“From the till. These are the coins I changed yesterday. I’ll find Mr.
Welland’s parcel in the car in an hour’s time.”
“Of course. I should have known that. Now, I’ll see you again at the
Panopticon. You’ll be sent for by the manager. Take your bag with you.
Do you see?”
“Very good, Mr. French. I’ll remember all you have told me.”
“Well, my last word to you is three don’ts: don’t be frightened, don’t
let Mr. Welland suspect our meeting, and don’t do anything rash,” and
wishing her a pleasant good afternoon, he strolled out of the gardens.