Mr. J. G. Reeder Returns Read Free Page B

their steel vaults, their unbreakable doors, their gratings and secret locking arrangements from this company, there was no doubt in his mind (he said) that O’Ryan was responsible for both burglaries. But Larry shook his head.
    “The burden of proof lies with the prosecution,” he said with mock solemnity. “I should like very much indeed to help you, Mr Reeder. I have heard of you, I admire you. Any man who in these days wears high-crowned felt hats and side-whiskers must have character, and I admire character. I hope that reference is not offensive to you; it is intended to be nothing but complimentary. I know quite a lot about you. You live in the Brockley Road, you keep chickens, you have an umbrella which you never open for fear it will be spoilt by the rain, and you smoke unspeakable cigarettes.”
    Again that rare smile of Mr Reeder’s.
    “You’re almost a detective,” he said. “Now, let us talk about Creed’s Bank–”
    “Let us talk about the weather,” said Larry.
    All Scotland Yard, and the Public Prosecutor’s Department, and Mr Reeder, and various narks and noses, and the parasites of the underworld were concerned in the search for the missing hundred and forty thousand pounds, even though there was not sufficient evidence to indict Larry for these two crimes.
    In due course he appeared before a judge at the Old Bailey, and pleaded guilty to being found on enclosed premises in possession of burglar’s tools, and to housebreaking (he had entered the bank at four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon) and, after a rather acrimonious trial, was found guilty and sentenced to a term of twelve months in prison.
    The trial was acrimonious because the counsel for the prosecution took a personal and violent dislike to the prisoner. Why, nobody knew; it was one of those prejudices which occasionally upset the judgement of intelligent men. It was probably some flippant remark which Larry made in cross-examination, a remark which counsel regarded as personally offensive to himself. He was not a big man, and he was rather a self-willed man. In his address to the jury he referred to the Creed’s Bank robbery and the burglary at the Panton Trust. At the first reference to these affairs the judge stopped and warned him, but he was not to be warned. Although no evidence had been called, and no charge made, in relation to these crimes, he insisted upon drawing parallels. He emphasised the fact that the prisoner had been employed by the company which made the locks and steel doors of both vaults; and all the time Larry sat in the dock, his arms folded, listening with a smile, for he knew something about law.
    There was an appeal; the conviction was quashed on a technical point, and Larry O’Ryan went free.
    His first call was on Mr J G Reeder, and he prefaced his visit with a short note asking whether his presence was acceptable. Reeder asked him to tea, which was the equivalent of being asked by the Lord Mayor to his most important banquet. Larry came in the highest spirits.
    “May I say,” asked Mr Reeder, “that you are a very fortunate young man?”
    “And how!” said Larry. “Yes, I was lucky. But who would imagine that the idiot would make a mistake like that! Are you sure you don’t mind my calling?”
    Mr Reeder shook his head.
    “If you hadn’t come I should have invited you,” he said.
    With a pair of silver tongs he placed a muffin on Larry’s plate.
    “It would be a waste of time, Mr O’Ryan, and I rather think a breach of – um – hospitality, if I made any further reference to those other unfortunate happenings, the – um – Creed’s Bank and Panton Trust affairs. As a detective and an officer of state, I should be most happy if I could find one little string of a clue which would enable me to associate you with those – um – depredations is the word, I think, you like best?”
    “Depredations is my favourite word,” mumbled Larry through the muffin.
    “Somehow, I don’t think I