PEOPLE
CHINA MAIL
FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, AUGUST 4, 1939
EOPLE say that to see life should travel, but my
experience is that a man can see as much life as he likes in the small patch of country that lies between Great Portland St. and the Euston Rd.-always suppos ing, that is to say, that he is in the motor trade.
It
my
Here is a case in point. happened not long ago to friend Billy Evans. He runs a place in Great Portland St., and it was there, one bright Septem- ber morning, that the fun began.
Billy was lounging in the dim recesses at the back of his show- room, looking at his watch every now and then to see how long it was till opening time.
Half a dozen people drifted along, stared for a minute through the big, plate-glass win- dows and passed on. Billy had just made up his mind to stroll round and see what the kerb dealers were doing in Warren St. when in came a man with the words "likely prospect" written large all over him.
He was an oldish fellow, stout and obviously prosperous, and Billy put him down in his own mind as some well-to-do stock- broker.
He wanted, he said, to buy a motor-car, and buy it quick. "I have to go away for the week- end," he said. "I've owned a num-
Short Story
ber of cars in my time, but I haven't one at the moment, and if you've anything I fancy
in stock, I'll take it, pay you a de- posit, pay the balance, and col-
·lect the bus to-morrow. How will that suit you?"
Billy said it suited him very. well indeed. They looked the cars over, and the prospect's fan- cy finally lighted on a sports tourer, a snappy-looking affair in black picked out with red.
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"I like this car,” he said, "and I like you. If you say she's all Two-seven- right I'll take her.
five you said the price was? Well, if I give you a temper on account and pay the balance” to-morrow, I take it that'll be OK?”
But when the old fellow felt for his pocket-book he looked startled and flurred.
"Now, if that isn't just like me!" said he. "I've left my money at home in the pocket of my other, suit. I can give you a cheque for the deposit, but what the devil am I to do for the rest of the day? I've come up from, the country, and I've a lot of things to get for the wife.” ⠀
He stood there for a minute, looking worried; then his face lighted. "I have it!" said he. "I'll give you a cheque for twenty pounds, then if you'll be good enough to keep half as deposit on the car and
ance in cashe me the bal-
things nicely."
that'll square
But at that Billy stalled
told his customer that he would accept the cheque for the
with pleasure, but that
trifle short of cash himself. morning.
The old gentleman.
"THE SERGEANT'S LIZZIE❞
and reproachful. He hoped, he said, Billy didn't distrust him. He looked such a kindly, simple, dis- tressed old soul that Billy almost changed his mind and gave him the money.
Almost, but not quite.
In the ordinary way of busi- ness Billy would have verified the cheque right away, but it so happened that a sudden rush of inquiries kept him on the go all day, and when ** next morning came and he rolled into the show- room at nine-thirty, it was to find two large men, with the outsize feet of plainclothes detectives, waiting for him.
He took them into his little pri- vate office, and they introduced themselves as a sergeant and con- stable from Albany St. Police Station. Had Billy, they asked, sold a car the day before to an elderly gentleman who had paid a cheque as deposit and asked for a small loan at the same time?
Billy said he had.
The sergeant eyed him with a grim smile.. "It's a miracle to me," said he, "how any of you gentlemen do business when you're so trusting. You ought to join the police force to learn a
By Max Saltmarsh.
thing or two about human nature. And how much did he sting you for?"
!
At that moment Billy began to feel that the sergeant and he were not, and never-could- be, twin souls; and he got a lot of satisfaction from telling him `that the old gentleman had com-
pletely failed to sting him.
"Well,” said the sergeant, rub- bing his chin with a faint, scrat- ching noise, "there's six or seven gentlemen in this street wishing they could say as much.”
He rose ponderously to his feet. "Now, sir, if that bird should. happen to turn up to collect the car he bought you might give us a call and keep him in play till we come."
Billy said he would, and they turned towards the door, but as they did so a queer thing happen. ed. A man, a sharp-faced, foxy- looking fellow, was standing on the pavement outside, staring in through the big, plate-glass win- dow; but as the sergeant turned he gave him one startled look, pulled his hat over his eyes, and took to his heels down the street.
For a moment Billy was tempt ed to draw the policeman's atten- tion to this peculiar incident, but even as he opened his mouth. the sergeant halted before the black sports tourer, and Billy saw dawning-In his eye that" "I'd- give anything for that car look that is jam motor trader.
He pour
on that look and alled it down. Said he guile- drive a car your-
sergeant sigh ct, I've got an
ad her for a mat-
goes, though she's getting a trifle past her best.”
"Ah," said Billy sympathetic- ally. "A little bus like this would suit
better for running you around."
"Quite," said the sergeant, with a light, cynical laugh.
Billy laughed politely too. "Take a look at her inside," he said. He opened the door invit- ingly.
Half an hour later the sergeant was signing on the dotted line.
Billy had promised to take the old car in part-exchange, and had arranged to deliver the new one that afternoon" and bring back the other. "They won't half get a surprise at the station when I drive up in this here bus." said the sergeant giving his new car a proprietary pat as he took his leave. "I don't suppose there's a constable in the West End that doesn't know my old Lizzie, but I won't tell them a word about it. I'll give them a good old shock."
He had got almost as far as the door when the telephone rang in the office and Billy excused himself to answer it. "Hello," said a vaguely familiar voice at the other end, "is that Mr. Evans?" Billy said it was. "Tell me," said the voice, “is old Rum- and-Onions still there?".
"Who?" said Billy..
"I mean," said the voice, “that flat-footed sergeant from Albany St. Because, if he is, you can tell him from me that I've chang- ed my mind about that car, and Great Portland St. won't be see- ing me to-day or for many a long day. So long.”
"What was that?" said the ser- geant suspiciously at Billy's el- bow.
"I think," said Billy, embar- rassed, "that it was a message for you." And delivered it.
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The language that sergeant used never came out of the police regulations,
Billy delivered the sports. car himself that afternoon, and drove the old Lizzie back to the show- room. She was not in bad -
1-con- dition for a car of her. age, though the fact that the sergeant had at some period repainted her a brilliant pea-green did not add to her commercial value.
It was almost closing time when he brought her back to the showroom. He was just taking a last look round before giving the order to shut shop, when who should stroll in but the foxy- faced man.
The fellow said he was looking out for a second-hand car -some-- thing, he said, for hack-work and not too expensive and Billy showed him what he had in stock, but nothing really satisfied him until he came to rest before the sergeant's Lizzie.
That's a useful-looking bus," he said. "Nice, fresh colour. Nobody'd mistake her for any one else's car. How much d'you want for her?"
Concealing his surprise as he could, Billy explain he l-only just taken
in,
ter of eight years and she still not.
d not had.
ter," he said, "Has she a good record, careful driving and so on? Who's her last owner?”
Billy told him and he seemed satisfied. "What d'you want for her?" he asked again.
"Twenty quid," said Billy, "Done," said the man. "I'll pay you in cash and take her away, if that's OK by you."
"OK by me," said Billy dazedly. The fellow drove the car away, and that, Billy imagined, was the last he was to see of the pea- green Lizzie. But he was wrong.
:
It was about ten-thirty next morning when Billy turned out of New Cavendish St. into Portland Pl., and as he paused on the kerb he sniffed the breeze and knew that something was wrong. Police whistles were blowing somewhere down by the Circus, and the con- stable on point duty was confer- ring, with another one` who had just run up, puffing and panting.
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Billy strolled along to them. "What's up, officer?" he asked in a friendly way. "Smash-and-grab in a Regent St. jeweller's," said the constable.
"Chap got away on foot down Vigo St.," added the other, “but I expect he'd a car waiting to pick him up. Orders out to stop all suspicious looking cars,”
"Ah!" said Billy, and even as he spoke the word, out into Port- land Pl. ambled gently a car that he knew, and at the wheel sat the foxy-faced man.
"What about stopping that car?" asked Billy on the spur of the moment,'
The two policemen burst into. a loud guffaw. "That?" said one "Why, that's old Rum-and- Onions' Lizzie.”.
Now it was obviously Billy's duty to tell the policemen all he knew about that car and its dri- ver, and let them, if they were so minded, unleash the dogs of war But certain remarks of the ser geant's still rankled, and Billy longed intensely to show the me- tropolitan Police Force that the motor trade had its wits about it, (Continued on Page 7) ·
I MEAN ITI I WANT THE BABY POWDER THAT FIGHTS GERMS
MENNEN