The Box Office Murders

a man round the addresses. Five of them were boarding houses. Other things being equal, he believed the gang would select girls from boarding houses. They had done so before and the reason was not far to seek. Girls who were alone in the world were more defenceless and easier prey than those who had a family behind them. Therefore it would be wise to start with these five girls.

Calling at the boarding houses in turn when the girls would be on duty, he asked to see the landladies.

“I’m sorry to trouble you,” he began in each case, “but I am making some inquiries about Miss Dash, who, I understand, lives here and is employed in the Asterisk Cinema. I advertised recently for a cashier for my business and she has applied. She seems suitable except for one thing. She gives me the impression of being very depressed and melancholy, as if something were preying on her mind. Now I would not care for a girl of that kind. I called therefore to ask whether you could tell me if her depression is temperamental or whether it is caused by some passing trouble from which she is likely to recover.”

Like the porters, the landladies reacted differently to this stimulus. One accepted French’s statement without hesitation and replied volubly that Miss Dash was the best and brightest of girls, but that owing to the recent death of her young man she was temporarily below her usual form. Another was circumspect, but allowed French to understand that it was believed that the course of true love was not running as smoothly as it might be desirable. A third was even more discreet, regretting that she was not in the confidence of her young ladies, while the remaining two evidently assumed sinister designs on French’s part, and would give nothing away.

He realized that he had not gained much from his visits. Even the first two girls were not out of the running, as were they in the clutches of the gang, they might easily have invented the stories told by their landladies in order to prevent suspicion attaching to their manner. But this was not likely and French decided that he would first investigate the lives of the other three, those about whose depression their respective landladies would not talk. These were Miss Lillian Burgess of the Cosmopolitan Cinema in the Haymarket, Miss Molly Moran of the Panopticon in Leicester Square, and Miss Esther Isaacs of the Venetian in the Strand. It wasn’t perhaps very likely, but from one of these he might learn something.

VII

Fair Passengers

Once he had decided his course of action, French was not the man to let the grass grow under his feet. On that very same evening on which he had learnt of the existence of the three box office girls, he began his investigation into their lives.

His first move was to warn his helpers, Sergeants Carter and Harvey, for duty at nine o’clock. Promptly at the hour the trio sallied forth from the Yard and turned their steps in the direction of the Haymarket.

“It’s in connection with that Portsmouth murder,” French explained as they walked. “I want three girls shadowed. We’ll do one each. But I want each of you to recognize all three, so we’ll go round first and I’ll point them out.”

The façade of the Cosmopolitan blazed with coruscations of flaming lights as they ascended the marble steps to its doors. Just inside stood French’s friend, the porter.

A word from French and he pointed to the pay box over which Miss Lillian Burgess presided.

“Girl in this box is Number One,” French whispered, then going to the window he put down a pound.

“Three stalls, please.”

The girl dropped out the three metal disc tickets and rapidly laid a ten-shilling note and a shilling on the ledge.

“Could you spare me silver?” French asked her. “I’m short of change.”

Without replying, Miss Burgess took back the note and replaced it with a small pile of coins.

The whole transaction was a matter of seconds, yet in the time each member of the trio had carefully observed the young woman and impressed her features on his memory. As they passed into the auditorium and out again into the street via the bar each could have creditably passed an examination as to her face, dress, and to some extent, manners.

“Now for Number Two,” said French.

They repeated their proceedings at the gorgeous Panopticon in Leicester Square, where, unknown to the lady herself, they made the acquaintance of Miss Molly Moran. Then they went down to the Strand and similarly “met” Miss Esther Isaacs at the Venetian.

“That’s all right until shortly before eleven,” French declared. “I want each of these girls followed home. If they meet anyone get his or her description. I’ll do the Cosmopolitan, Carter the Panopticon, and Harvey this place. Here are the girls’ addresses. As soon as they get home you may drop it for the night. But I’ll want you at eight-thirty in the morning at the Yard. We’re carrying on tomorrow.”

The three men separated. Harvey suggested that as they were in the cinema they might as well see the programme, and settled down to enjoy himself. Carter was not on for pictures and went to look up a friend who lived close by, while French, feeling restless and unsettled, set off for a stroll through the crowded streets.

Though a Londoner, French could never get over his wonder at the streets, especially at night. The blazing lights, the flashing sky signs, the endless streams of vehicles on the polished asphalt surface of the roadway, the sauntering or hurrying crowds on the pavements, the life and movement and yet the orderliness, the surprising silence of it all, struck him afresh as one of the wonders of the world. In Paris and other cities he had visited they had the life and the movement, but compared with London the streets were filled with