THE GREEK PHILLOPOLIS
The upbuilding of the Boundary gang had neither been an accident, nor
was it exactly designed on the lines which it ultimately followed.
The main structure was Boundary himself, with his extraordinary
financial genius, his plausibility, his lightning exploitation of every
advantage which offered. Outwardly he was the head of three trading
corporations which complied with the laws, paid small but respectable
dividends and cloaked other operations which never appeared in the
official records of the companies.
The sidelines of the gang came through force of circumstances.
Men--good, bad and indifferent--were drawn into the orbit of its
activities, as extraordinary circumstances arose or dire necessities
dictated. Throughout the length and breadth of Britain, through France,
Italy, and in the days before the war, and even during the war, in
Germany, in Russia and in the United States, were men who, if they could
not be described as agents, were at least ready tools.
He had a finger in every unsavoury pie. The bank robber discharged from
gaol did not ask Colonel Boundary to finance him in the purchase of a
new kit of tools--an up-to date burglar's kit costs something over two
hundred pounds--but there were people who would lend the money, which
eventually came out of the colonel's pocket. Some of the businesses he
financed were on the border line of respectability. Some into which his
money was sunk were frankly infamous. But it was a popular fiction that
he knew nothing of these. Or, if he did know, that he was financing or
at the back of a scoundrel, it was insisted that that scoundrel was
engaged in (so far as the colonel knew) legitimate enterprise.
Paul Phillopolis was a small Greek merchant, who had an office in
Mincing Court--a tiny room at the top of four flights of stairs. On the
glass panel of its door was the announcement: "General Exporter."
Mr. Phillopolis spent three or four hours at his office daily and for
the rest of the time, particularly towards the evening, was to be found
in a _brasserie_ in Soho. He was a dark little man, with fierce
moustachios and a set of perfect white teeth which he displayed readily,
for he was easily amused. His most intimate acquaintances knew him to be
an exporter of Greek produce to South America, and he was, in the large
sense of the word, eminently respectable.
Occasionally he would be seen away from his customary haunt, discussing
with a compatriot some very urgent business, which few knew about. For
there were ships which cleared from the Greek ports, carrying cargoes to
the order of Mr. Phillopolis, which did not appear in any bill of
lading. Dazed-looking Armenian girls, girls from South Russia, from
Greece, from Smyrna, en route to a promised land, looked forward to the
realisation of those wonderful visions which the Greek agent had so
carefully sketched.
In half a dozen South American towns the proprietors of as many dance
halls would look over the new importations approvingly and remit their
bank drafts to the merchant of Mincing Court. It was a profitable
business, particularly in pre-war days.
The colonel departed from his usual practice and met the Greek himself,
the place of meeting being a small hotel in Aldgate. Whatever other
pretences the colonel made, he did not attempt to continue the fiction
that he was ignorant of the Greek's trade.
"Paul," he said after the first greetings were over, "I've been a good
friend to you."
"You have indeed, colonel," said the man gratefully.
He spoke English with a very slight accent, for he had been born and
educated in London.
"If ever I can render you a service----"
"You can," said the colonel, "but it is not going to be easy."
The Greek eyed him curiously.
"Easy or hard," he said, "I'll go through with it."
The colonel nodded.
"How is the business in South America?" he asked suddenly.
The Greek spread out his hands in deprecation.
"The war!" he said tragically, "you can imagine what it has been like.
All those girls waiting for music-hall engagements and impossible to
ship them owing to the fleets. I must have lost thousands of pounds."
"The demand hasn't slackened off, eh?" asked the colonel, and the Greek
smiled.
"South America is full of money. They have millions--billions. Almost
every other man is a millionaire. The music-halls have patrons but no
talent."
The colonel smiled grimly.
"There's a girl in London of exceptional ability," he said. "She has
appeared in a music-hall here, and she's as beautiful as a dream."
"English?" asked the Greek eagerly.
"Irish, which is better," said the other; "as pretty as a picture, I
tell you. The men will rave about her."
The Greek looked puzzled.
"Does she want to go?" he asked.
The colonel snarled round at him:
"Do you think I should come and ask you to book her passage if she
wanted to go?" he demanded. "Of course she doesn't want to go, and she
doesn't know she's going. But I want her out of the way, you
understand?"
Mr. Phillopolis pulled a long face.
"To take her from England?"
"From London," said the colonel.
The Greek shook his head.
"It is impossible," he said; "passports are required and unless she was
willing to go it would be impossible to take her. You can't kidnap a
girl and rush her out of the country except in storybooks, colonel."
Boundary interrupted him impatiently.
"Don't you think I know that?" he asked; "your job is, when she's in a
fit state of mind, to take her across and put her somewhere where she's
not coming back for a long time. Do you understand?"
"I understand that part of it very well," said the Greek.
"I'm not to be mixed up in it," said Boundary. "The only thing I can
promise you is that she'll go quietly. I'll have her passports fixed.
She'll be travelling for her health--you understand? When you get to
South America I want you to take her into the interior of the country.
You're not to leave her in the music-halls in one of the coast towns
where English and American tourists are likely to see her."
"But how are you going to----"
"That's my business," said the colonel. "You understand what you have to
do. I'll send you the date you leave and I'll pay her passage and yours.
For any out-of-pocket expenses you can send the bill to me, you
understand?"
Obviously it was not a job to the liking of Phillopolis, but he had good
reason to fear the colonel and acquiesced with a nod. Boundary went back
to where he had left Pinto and found the Portuguese biting his
finger-nails--a favourite spare-time occupation of his.
"Did you fix it?" he asked in a low voice.
"Of course, I fixed it," said the colonel sharply.
"I'm not going to have anything to do with it," said the other, and the
colonel smiled.
"Maybe you'll change your mind," he said significantly.
There was a knock at the door and the colonel himself answered it. He
took the card from the servant's hand and read:
"Mr. STAFFORD KING,
"Criminal Intelligence Department."
He looked from the card to Pinto, then:
"Show him in."