Hue and Cry

-BOY SINGS SOLO:

-# O, for the wings

# For the wings of a dove

# Far away

# Far away would I rove

ALL: # O, for the wings

# For the wings of a dove

# Far away

# Far away

# Far away

# Far away would I rove

# In the wilderness build me a nest

# And remain there for ever at rest

# In the wilderness, build me

# Build me a nest

# And remain there forever at rest

# In the wilderness

# Build me a nest... #

Look, there's one!

HK. It's one I haven't got.

Ain't you tired of that lark yet?

Enthralling new adventure of Selwyn Pike, master sleuth,

and his youthful assistant, Smiler.

-Wotcher, chaps, tea's up.

-Did you have any luck today?

No, I went for a job in undertaker's.

-And I didn't get it.

-They want a fella down at our milk bar.

-Why don't you come and see the boss?

-I might look him up tomorrow.

-Load of tripe.

-Just found it in the road.

Listen to this, fellas. "It was the work of Smiler to force open the window.

"He put one leg onto the sill and dropped noiselessly to the floor."

-Where did he leave the other leg?

-THEY LAUGH

"Two men lay stretched in a pool of blood at his feet."

-Brr! I'm scared!

-He's scared!

-THEY LAUGH

"Pike must be informed at once of this grim new development."

-Here, that's my comic!

-Ah, go on, get out of it!

THEY SHOUT

"Smiler stepped back towards the window,

"but before he could reach it, a garage door swung open

"and the menacing figure of Larry the Bull loomed up before him.

"Smiler opened his mouth to shout,

"but his cry of desperation was instantly smothered

"as a large, rough hand closed over..."

-Well, where's the rest of it?

-What do you mean?

-Oh, it must have blowed away.

-That's that.

I'll get you another one in the morning. Tuppence, please.

You won't catch me reading that kids' stuff.

HORN BEEPS

Give us a Trump, please.

'Selwyn Pike was a fast mover.

'Eight minutes of break-neck driving brought him to Wilmot Road.

'Just in time. There was the van.

'Selwyn Pike was still on its tail when it pulled up in Granville Place.

'It stopped outside number 813.

'Two men jumped from it.'

Great Queen Street!

'Pike watched through narrowed eyes. Yes, there they were.

'Three wooden crates and the number that Smiler had impressed upon them.

'GZ 4216.

'Pike frowned. Two crates, two dead men.

'But the third crate. Smiler?

'"By gad," he ejaculated, "the fiends!" It seemed only too clear.'

Mind out, you!

Look where you're going!

Excuse me, sir! Are you Selwyn Pike?

No, my name's Higgins. Sorry.

Three bodies, I tell you! In wooden crates!

-You're crackers!

-Scared, are you?

-Who, me? Get out of it!

-OK, let's get on with it.

Oh! Oh, you're hurting me!

-Oh, yes.

-Let go! I'll explain!

-You will explain. To the police!

Lies, lies, lies. All lies. I tell you, Inspector.

What I want bodies for in my business?

Mr Jago, please, I'm trying to check up on that number.

Oh, sorry, Inspector. Terribly sorry.

But what a story! Such lies!

You're sure it was GZ 4216?

Sure as I stand here, Inspector. Just like it is in that paper.

Very interesting. You see, there doesn't happen to be a GZ.

You see, Inspector? Just as I say. He makes it all in his head!

Because why? He comes to rob my shop.

But I knew it. I knew it all the time.

Well, Mr Jago, you got your remedy.

-I take it you want to charge this boy?

-Huh?

Oh, yes, yes, I charge him. You will send him to prison, yes?

Right, we'll all take it along to Bow Street.

-To Bow Street? Me? Now? Why?

-You're the one that's bringing the charge.

Yes, but, Inspector, what else shall I bring? What more should I say?

I'm sorry, Mr Jago, you've got to come along.

Yes, yes, yes, but I can't come now.

I'm waiting for a gentleman. A customer of mine.

He comes at half past nine. It's a very, very big customer.

Look here, Mr Jago. Either you proceed with this case in the proper manner

or you drop the charge.

Sorry, I hadn't understood. But it's a very big customer.

He can't find closed my shop.

You must understand, Inspector.

All right, well, I'll let the boy go.

What else can I do?

All right, son.

So sorry, Inspector. I didn't like to waste your time.

If only it would've been tomorrow, I could've managed, but...

Sorry.

That was a bit of luck for you, son.

-Now, you'd better cut along. Where do you work?

-I'm just looking for a job.

-I see.

Well, watch your step.

-It was GZ 4216.

-Cut it out, son.

Suppose them number plates was false. Suppose that bloke was a crook.

He wouldn't have sent for me, would he?

Look, son, you ought to lay off reading those shockers.

You know, I don't think you're really a bad boy, just a bit imaginative.

-Now, I want to put you in the way of a job.

-In the CID?

There you go. No, Covent Garden.

-Do you know Nightingale's, the fruit and vegetable place?

-No.

Well, Mr Nightingale's a friend of mine. I happen to know he's on the lookout for a bright boy like you.

Take this along to him. Tell him I sent you.

Detective Inspector Ford.

Send me up some alligators, too. What's that?

Yeah, I could do with a fisherman's daughter.

Well, that's the lot, unless you've got some ins and outs in. Yeah.

Oh, Jim? Those tennis balls, a bit of a duff lot, old man. They're frosted.

How's the missus? Oh, too bad.

Tell her to rub it with turpentine. So long.

So, you're the young fella that sees visions on the streets of London.

-HE LAUGHS

-What's your name?

-Joe Kirby, sir.

-That's right. Detective Inspector Ford's just been telling me about you.

-Started young, eh?

-Started what, guv'nor?

The heebie-jeebies.

HE LAUGHS

-Now, let me give you a word of advice, Joe.

-Yes, sir?

If ever you see a small jellied eel in striped pyjamas

riding a tricycle up the wall,

knock it off, boy. Don't ever touch another drop.

HE LAUGHS

-Good strong boy, are you?

-I reckon so.

Come here. Come here, come here, I'm not going to eat you!

Well, bend it, bend it slowly.

Oh, not a bad bit of muscle there.

All right, Joe, I'll try you out.

30 shillings a week. 5am to 1pm.

-And no daydreams in my time.

-I wasn't dreaming.

HE LAUGHS

Tom, this is your new assistant, Joe Kirby. Just show him the ropes, will you?

And if you find any corpses under those spuds, give me a whistle.

HE LAUGHS

SHOUTING

I got you.

HE WHISTLES

SHOUTING

Elastic! Half price!

HE LAUGHS

LAUGHTER

What does he get, that young Johnson? Two quid a week?

I don't know how he does it. I couldn't afford to play around with girls when I was his age.

-Now what's his nibs up to?

-Just practising, Dad.

-I've got a job.

-Got a job, have you? I hope it's a good steady one this time.

-Here, that's mine.

-I've got to eat the crusts. I'm slimming.

Haven't I told you not to start a new loaf before you finish the old?

Well, tell us about your job. How much are you getting?

-30 bob a week.

-Money isn't everything, my lad.

-What's the prospects?

-Well, I ain't sure, mind you,

but I wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't given a very important job to do pretty soon.

-In the government, of course.

-Sort of. In the CID if you must know.

Well, never mind about the job you're going to get,

-what about the job you've got?

-Well, it's in Covent Garden, Mum.

I was specially recommended by a detective inspector

and I've got to learn to carry ten baskets on my head.

Well, it's not what I call a real safe job.

But some of these porters earn good money from all I've heard.

Dad, you know all about car numbers, don't you?

I'll have a word with Ted Williams. His son works in the market.

Yes, I know. Dad, why aren't there no cars with GZ?

I didn't know there wasn't. It's flowers he goes in for mostly, I believe.

Seasonal stuff.

White carnations would go well with my new dance dress.

-Joe, try and get us a couple.

-White carnations.

-I've got more important things to worry about!

-Like joining the CID?

Some people ain't got the imagination.

It so happens I done a bit of good for that detective inspector.

Kept my eyes open, see? And what with all this crimewave going on,

-I wouldn't be surprised if...

-You've got a bit of sausage on your chin.

TRAIN HORN BLARES

HE IMITATES BOMBING

Joe!

-Seen any of the others yet?

-No. Why?

Well, Roy hasn't half been spinning a yarn about you.

-I should worry.

-Roy said they fetched a cop along to you.

-Detective inspector!

-Detective inspector? Cor, what happened?

Nothing much. Except he gave me a job.

HE IMITATES BOMBINGS

LAUGHTER AND CLATTERING

-Wotcher, Dicky?

-Ah!

Look who's walked in.

-Found them bodies yet?

-Who's up there, the queen of the fairies?

THEY SHOUT

# Three dead corpses rotting in a box... #

You should go and have your brains tested.

ALL: # Three dead corpses rotting in a box

# And if one dead corpse should accidentally rot

# There'll be two dead corpses rotting in a box

# Two dead corpses rotting in a box

# Two dead corpses rotting in a box

# And if one dead corpse should accidentally rot... #

I bet you gave those cops the best laugh they've had for years!

I've got two more sets complete, Joe.

Don't you talk to him about car numbers. You'll catch a clip on the ear hole.

I've got all the Ss and all the Gs.

-You ain't got GZ, Arthur, I know that.

-I have.

You can't have. There ain't one.

Let's see it. Where?

There. GZ 4216. I got it this morning.

GZ 4216!

-THEY SHOUT

-Give me that back!

Shut up, all of you! Where did you see it? A van, wasn't it?

That's right. On my way to work. It was coming out of a garage.

-Why, what's up?

-A garage. It all fits.

It all fits! The van in the story came out of a garage.

-That's where they transferred the bodies.

-Get out of it!

There wasn't any bodies. You saw that.

-Might've meant something else, though, bodies.

-What do you mean?

That's right. Don't you see? Sort of a code.

I bet them furs were stolen!

No, I thought of that. But then it can't be.

-Else that bloke in the shop wouldn't have dared send for the police.

-Why not?

You pipe down!

-Pipe down yourself! Go on, Clarry.

-I reckon that bloke was smart.

He took a chance the cops wouldn't believe Joe and if he goes to them again, they'll just laugh.

-He's a crook, that bloke in the shop! I bet you!

-That's right, course he's a crook!

Crooks with a code in a kids' paper? What do they want to use a code for, anyway?

To get their orders from the boss, like in the stories.

Well, why don't the boss just tell them?

Because he doesn't want them to know who he is. That's always the way.

-Yes.

-Who do you reckon he is, then?

-The fella that owns the paper?

-Might be.

-Or the bloke that writes them stories.

-Felix H Wilkinson.

-Why not Bing Crosby?

-Felix H Wilkinson.

Yeah.

I wonder if he's in the telephone book.

There he is. F H Wilkinson.

Come on.

WHIRRING

CAT MEWS

CAT MEWS

Your fate is in my hands.

MAN LAUGHS

Nothing can save you now. Nothing.

You're all alone and I have a silencer on this gun.

You've only got five seconds to live.

'The pistol barked. There came a spot of yellow flame.

'Pipe's nostrils were assailed by the familiar smell...

'Correction, aroma...'

Who are you? What are you doing here?

-We thought we was going to be murdered.

-And the door was open.

-Ohh!

-HE LAUGHS

-What a jape, eh?

-HE LAUGHS

I left the door open for Otto. He's my cat. And that is Dick.

-Dick the Dictaphone. Do you see?

-HE LAUGHS

-Look, come in, come in, sit down.

-HE LAUGHS

Just one moment. There you are.

Well, now, what can I do for you?

Erm, well, sir, we've been reading that story of yours

-about Mr Pike and the Scarlet Death.

-Ah! My public.

Him being tied to that circular saw

and the poison gas seeping in through the ventilator.

And five more days to wait before we find out if he gets away with it.

What happens to Smiler when they drop that black widow spider in the crate with him?

-So we were thinking that...

-That you might...

-Tell us how the story goes on.

-HE LAUGHS

-Thank you a thousand times.

This is really the most scrumptious compliment I've ever been paid.

-You will?

-Of course! By all means!

One moment, though. I think this calls for a little liquid refreshment, eh?

HE LAUGHS

What's he going to give us?

I don't know. Sip it careful and if it's got a funny taste, don't...

-Hey, Alec!

-What?

-This book.

-A Study Of Codes And Ciphers.

-Look out!

-HE LAUGHS

-Ginger pop.

-HE LAUGHS

-Come along now, fellas, help yourselves.

No, no, no, no, not that one.

Mine has, er, gin in it.

-Bung-ho!

-HE LAUGHS

Mmmm-yum-yum-yum-yum. Now for the answer to your touching request.

Selwyn Pike and the Scarlet Death

instalment number four.

'Crack! The sound of the pistol shot

'echoed and reverberated through the darkness of the lonely mill.

'Selwyn Pike, his neck a bare six inches from the cruel blades

'of the whirling saw,

'was aware that something akin to a miracle had occurred.

'He had told nobody of his plan to visit Zanzibar Street.'

-Where?

-What? What is the matter?

-The mill where Mr Pike went was on Lambeth Road.

-Nonsense.

-I never use the names of real streets in my stories.

-But Alec's right. It says Lambeth Road here.

What?

Crumbs. What a frightening picture.

So that's what Selwyn Pike looks like.

I say, a bit of a bound, I'm afraid.

Not at all as I imagined him.

But ain't you never seen this here paper before?

Good gracious me, no. I create these stories.

Why, bless my soul, you boys are perfectly right. It is Lambeth Road.

-What on earth induced them to change that?

-Wait.

And here's a split infinitive.

-Mr Wilkinson.

-And all appearing under my name.

Mr Wilkinson, we reckon these stories are being used as a code by a gang of crooks.

I'll never look... What? A gang of crooks?

-My stories?

-Yeah. That there van, I saw it in Great Queen Street

-unloading three crates, just like in the story.

-And I saw it, too.

Here's the addresses.

My Lord, do you mean that my stories

-have been distorted by some, er...

-Master criminal.

-Exactly.

Some master criminal.

As a means of sending instructions to his, er...

-minions?

-Without betraying his own identity.

Ah. Stupendous.

Just like the mysterious Captain X in The Case of Selwyn Pike and the Footprints on the Ceiling.

He used a column in the Morning Gazette.

But to think of it. My story.

Let me see that.

Granville Place. Great Queen Street.

Wilmot Road. Woburn Avenue.

HE MUTTERS

Ah.

-A-ha!

-Got something, have you?

-Yes.

-What is it?

-The key, my friend. The key to your precious code.

The London Postal Guide. Granville Place.

Turn over ten pages and here, the corresponding position is Great Queen Street.

Just as I thought, with 234 added to the number.

-How did you work that out?

-Well may you ask.

The scoundrels, they've purloined one of my codes,

the very code I invented for The Case of the Limping Skeleton. The child of this brain!

-Who's going to tell the police?

-Police?

Yeah, the cops.

-Tell the police?

-What's the matter?

Wait. This is a big, powerful game we've stumbled on.

They would never show a shred of mercy on anyone who...peached on them.

-But if they all get arrested...

-Some may get away.

And they'd be sure to avenge their comrades. They always do, ruffians of that breed.

Like the two survivors of the Men of Doom in The Case of the Crowded Coffins.

They reappeared literally from the grave

to cut the throat of poor old Silas Cubbly.

-See here, Mr Wilkinson...

-And remember,

remember what happened to Nicky the Nark in The Case of the Creeping Death.

Yeah, but those sort of things only happen in stories.

Are you suggesting that stories can never come to life?

Look, don't be rash, boys.

Leave me out of it. I implore you, leave me out.

I want no part of it. No part of it at all!

Ah. Otto.

Come, Otto.

Boys, don't forget Nicky the Nark.

CHURCH BELLS CHIME Morning, Harry. Nice weather.

Watch out! Mind your backs, please! Oi, oi! Oi, oi!

Oi, oi!

Oi, oi!

Mind your backs, please.

Oi, oi.

Joe!

I've just been telling the inspector about your latest findings

and, er, he'd like to have a little word with you.

What's the idea, son? I thought I'd done you a good turn getting you this job.

-You have, too.

-Then why do you keep on wasting my time?

All this nonsense about crooks and codes.

But it ain't nonsense, Inspector. There's a racket being worked, really there is.

Here's the code they're using. You check that with the London Postal Guide.

And have a look at this story, too, and you'll see it the same as I did.

-Did you make this code up?

-Me? No, course I didn't.

-Who did?

Who made up this code?

Well, it was in another story in the Trump.

I thought as much. Now look here, son, I've just about had enough of this!

But I ain't sprucing, straight I'm not!

-That code what was first used in The Case of the Limping Skeleton...

-Cut it out!

I've been very patient with you, my lad, but you'll get into serious trouble if you're not careful.

The next time I come here, it won't be simply to warn you.

-You believe me, don't you, guv?

-Yeah.

Sure, Joe, sure.

I believe you.

I even believe in Santa Claus.

HE LAUGHS

-Can I carry your bag, Miss Davis?

-No, thank you, Norman, dear.

I'm not going your way tonight.

Do you work on the Trump, mate?

-Do you work on the Trump, mate?

-Yeah. Why?

-You got a date with her or something?

-No.

Sometimes we go the same way, see?

Why? What do you want?

A peek at next week's story in advance.

-You ain't asking much!

-Wait till you've heard what I know.

I reckon Joe ought to have his head examined, blowing the gaff to some Camberwell kid.

Yeah, and bringing him along here, an' all.

-How else could we find out who's been changing them stories?

-Yeah, we'd be proper stuck.

-For all we know, that kid's in the racket himself, working for the paper.

-Joe says he's all right.

-Who asked you to stick your nose in this? We don't want you, anyway.

-Who said so?

-I said so!

-HE SQUAWKS

-Here they come!

Blimey, dapper little fella, ain't he?

I say, old boy, what a shocking place to bring a fellow to.

Turn it up, Roy! This is him, fellas. Norman Pally.

Come on, who's the crook on your paper?

Be nice to know, wouldn't it?

There's no-one at the office what written them stories. I made sure of that.

-And I reckon it can't be the comps. In case you don't know, that means the printers.

-Ha!

And Joe said it couldn't be old Wilkinson. Now who are we left with? Boris Karloff?

It doesn't matter about that now. We've got something else to work on.

-Next week's paper. He gave it to me.

-In code, is it?

-Yes, and we've worked it out, too.

-Is there a job on?

I'll say there is! Them crooks are going to bust into Ritchie's!

-Ritchie's in the West End?

-What, that big place in Oxford Street?

That's it, Ritchie's, the big department store in Oxford Circus.

-Get out of it!

-How did the next bit start?

-Buzz off, this ain't no reading circle.

-Get on with it, then.

Well, there's a bloke called Tattooed Jack and his gang

and they're going to break into this store, see? Eight o'clock tomorrow night.

Thanks to Norman here, we've got half a day's start on them crooks to do a bit of planning.

And they won't get this until tomorrow morning.

Boxing.

'It was apparent to Smiler

'that he had been middled,

'for the newcomer was Tattooed Jack.'

Right. That's all we want to know. Tattooed Jack. He's doing the job this week.

-Working tonight, dear?

-No, not me. Tattooed Jack.

Good. We can go to the pictures.

OK, boys, we're running tonight.

-Why, who's doing the job?

-Why, Tattooed Jack. Must be something special.

PHONE RINGS

Detective Sergeant Fothergill.

Who?

I see. Carry on.

McLean.

This evening? Do you mean Ritchie's at Oxford Circus?

Yes.

Yes, thanks for the tip. We'll follow that up.

-Wallis, Meadows.

-Sergeant?

-Anonymous tip-off, for what it's worth.

-Possible job at Ritchie's tonight.

-Do you want us to go there?

Yes. I'll come with you. Eight o'clock.

-Any idea who's doing it?

-Bunch of kids, so the nark said.

-Detective Sergeant Fothergill.

-OK, sir.

ALL CLOCKS CHIME

'Six stone two pounds!'

'17 stone four pounds!'

'30 stone five pounds!'

'40 stone! 40 stone!

'40 stone! 40 stone!'

'40 stone...'

THEY SHOUT

Oi! Come on!

THEY SHOUT

-Get him in here!

-THEY SHOUT

-Get him, Joe!

-THEY SHOUT

BOTH SHOUT

That net there! Come on!

SHOUTING

All right, get him on the floor!

SHOUTING

Let me out of here! Please!

Help! Help!

-Help!

-HE BLOWS WHISTLE

-What's up?

-Kids!

Big kids, little kids, tough kids, thousands of them, all over the place!

THEY SHOUT

-What's going on here?

-Here you are.

We caught the lot.

-Phillips!

-Sergeant Fothergill!

Don't stand there gaping, man! Get us out of this!

Beat it! Beat it! Beat it!

Phillips, come here!

-Right, Sergeant.

-They can't get out, we've got them trapped!

And for Pete's sake, get me out of this!

WHISTLE

-We're done for!

-Oi! Come here, quick!

-Give us help, somebody! Anybody got a torch?

-I've got one, Roy.

Last one put the lid back.

Get down there, quick, before the cops come!

Come on!

Cor, don't it pong?

What do you expect in a sewer, violets?

This is where my dad works.

Where do we go from here?

Where do you want to go? Piccadilly? Strand? Tottenham Court Road?

They run just like the streets, see? Well, come on.

Well, they can't have got out this way. They must be here somewhere.

-They might have doubled back inside, sir.

-Take a look round the basement. I'll try the furnace room.

Ooh, Phillips, get on the blower and warn the patrol car to keep a lookout just in case.

You come with me.

-Here it is!

-ALL CHEER

-What's up?

-It's stiff.

It's no use.

We'd better see if we can't find another one.

Oh, it's all right, Alec.

-We'll get out, won't we, Joe?

-What?

Oh, sure. Come on.

-I can't go on! I can't go on! I can't!

-It won't be for long, Alec.

I can't! I can't go on! I can't! I can't!

-I can't! I can't!

-THEY SHOUT

Shut up, all of you!

-Let's have a go at it.

-It's no use!

"SY calling 12A.

"Oxford Circus. Vicinity of Ritchie's. Number of boys seen."

Cor, fresh air!

Cor, my mum didn't half go off the deep end.

-I told my old man I rescued a kid from the canal.

-Did he believe you?

I don't know. He clouted me.

Anyway, they can't send me to Borstal. I'm too young.

Oh, shut up! I'm telling you, nobody's going to Borstal!

Oh, yeah? You break into a West End store,

beat up the night watchman and tie down the cops and expect to get away with it?

-Don't make me laugh!

-How they going to know it was us what done it?

The same way as they knew we were going to do it, mug!

Don't take any notice. Them coppers wasn't after us, they was after the crooks.

-Why didn't the crooks turn up, then?

-Joe!

Joe!

There's a couple of coppers hanging round the ruins.

-I did! I see 'em!

-There you are, what did I tell you?

Come on, let's get this done. I'm getting out of here quick. Where's that water?

-Roy, where you going?

-Any place would be better than here for a week or two.

If them coppers was after us, why don't they come here and get us, eh?

Figure it out for yourself, genius. It's that Camberwell pal of yours. He's the mole.

-He don't know where we live but he knows about the ruins.

-The dirty little rat!

What are we going to do now, Joe?

Yes, what are we going to do now, Joe?

TRAIN WHISTLE

If we could find them crooks...

Or maybe we ought to go to the police.

Shove it down here, Dicky. Out of the way, brainstorm!

-Who you shoving?

-Get out and take your fancy ideas somewhere else!

THEY SHOUT

THEY SHOUT

-Hit him, Joe!

-Bring that bowl back! This minute!

THEY SHOUT

Blimey, look who's here! Norman the Nark!

Joe! Joe!

-THEY SHOUT

-Joe!

-Norman. What's up?

-I've got a clue!

-I've just been to see old Wilkinson.

-You have?

-Yeah.

-My boss wanted the story early this week.

-Well, did you get it?

-That's it, lap it up.

-No.

Old Wilkinson says he posted it off last night. He says he always puts it in the post on Sundays.

-So what?

-Well, we don't ever get it before Tuesday.

-Are you sure of that, Norman?

-Course I'm sure.

It's my first job Tuesday mornings. Miss Davis opens it and I take it straight in to the old man.

Miss Davis, eh? Does she open all the letters?

-Yeah, but she's all right.

-Not so fast. She might be...

-It can't be her.

-Is she good-looking?

-She's a smasher.

Here, come off it. What's the idea?

-I swear...

-How do you reckon she works it, Joe?

Well, supposing she pops the story in her pocket first thing Monday morning, see?

Then she can take it home, muck it about that evening

and send it back by last post. I bet you that's it!

-That dirty, double-crossing...

-Now we've got to get some evidence.

-He's off again.

-Look, it's our big chance, Alec.

If we can find them crooks, we don't have to worry about the coppers.

-Where does this bird live, Norman?

-Hampstead way somewhere. I'll try and find out.

-No, don't do that. Might make her suspicious. We'll trail her.

-Six o'clock tomorrow.

-Yeah.

That's the biggest lot of bull I've ever heard.

Poor old Roy. He don't finish work until seven.

-Coming on my bus, Miss Davis?

-Yes, Norman, I am tonight.

Hurry along. Hurry along, please. One more only.

Oh, no, you go, Norman, you've got further to go than me.

-What did you want to do that for?

-Where's she gone, Norman?

-Oh, we've lost her now!

-I couldn't help it!

-Why did you let her go?

-THEY SHOUT

There's no use yelping! Get off, quick, hurry up!

THEY SHOUT

Off the road, quick! Off the road, fellas, hurry up, quick!

There she is!

Taxi! Taxi! Taxi! Oi! Taxi!

Hey, taxi!

Hey, taxi! Taxi!

-Taxi!

-Taxi!

-Taxi!

-That's torn it.

-No, it hasn't. We'll take a bus.

-Where to, you silly little shrimp?

-Well, number 31 Main Road.

That's what the lady told the driver. I was holding the taxi door.

Good old Alec!

Shh!

Go on! GATE SQUEAKS

DOORBELL RINGS

What do you want here?

Can you spare something for the choir outing?

-What choir?

-St Mark's, miss.

-Haven't I seen you somewhere before?

-I don't know.

I expect you've seen me in church.

TYPEWRITER KEYS CLICK

Ah, yes, that must be it. Now, come in, dear, I'll get my bag.

Just a minute, miss, I want to tell you about the outing.

-Well, so you shall. Come along in.

-No, miss, I'll stop here.

Oh, no, you won't!

This was the one they used to change them stories.

-We've got her!

-Look out!

I get it. I thought as much.

We'll see what the police have to say about this.

Good old Dicky!

-THEY SHOUT

-I'll break your necks!

Lay off, will you? Cut it out!

You'll get five years for this!

Take your filthy paws off me!

Well...what happens now?

Now, Joe.

Don't you think you're going to get away with this.

HE WHISTLES

-What's happened?

-We've tied her up.

What?

Here, quick, have a look at this.

-Was them stories done on the same machine?

-I don't know.

Here, supposing she's seen me with you. What am I going to say to her tomorrow?

-She won't be there tomorrow.

-It's all right for you to talk, I've got a job to lose.

-Here, what's that bird's name?

-Her? Rhona Davis.

Then why is this letter addressed to Miss Rhona Watson?

Why didn't she use her right name at your office? She's a crook all right!

I'm going to nip up the road and ring my boss and tell him we're really onto something this time.

-That's right! Come on!

-Dicky, Alec, watch her and make her talk.

Norman, you get back on guard.

-Do we go back in there?

-You heard what he said.

We've got to make her talk.

-Couldn't we tickle her?

-Don't talk silly.

But it worked fine in The Case of the Cross-eyed Chinaman.

No, Guv, I'm in a callbox.

Speedwell 9446, it's about two minutes from her place.

Now, look, I'm going to ring up Inspector Ford right away.

You stop there and I'll call you back. No, no, no. They'll be OK.

You stick where you are and don't leave that box. You understand? Good lad.

Hello? Hello, exchange. Hello?

You're going to talk if I stay here all night!

Who's your boss?

I'll scar you for life!

Oh, why don't you go home to mother?

And you, too, you silly little squirt.

I don't know, it made old Ming Por talk all right.

Go on, go off to your pals, they knew what was good for them.

They got out while they could and left you to carry the can.

I wouldn't like to be in your shoes when my pals turn up.

-Hey, come here!

-They won't be long now.

-I'm expecting them any minute.

-Water torture.

Then you'll know what it means to be tough.

SHE SCREAMS

-Get it away!

-Talk then!

-Take it away!

-Do you want to talk!

-Yes! Yes!

-SHE SCREAMS

OK, who runs your racket?

-It's...

-Donald Duck.

-You there, undo those cords.

-Yes, sir.

Get a move on! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! Come along.

Got him!

-Joe! Joe!

-What's happened?

-A bloke turned up.

-One of the crooks.

-I knocked him cold. Dicky's tied him up.

Lovely grub! That'll show old Ford. Nightingale's trying to contact him now.

-He told me to wait here until he rings me back.

-We're not going to wait here now, are we?

Well, I don't know. He told me not to move, didn't he?

You gave him the address, Ford will find his way there all right. Oh, come on!

Look!

They've got Dicky!

We'll never see him again, I know we won't.

He might have run for it and got clear.

We never all should've left him there alone.

Aye, we'll find him in the river, that's where.

Nark it, can't you? Get a move on!

Who's going to tell her?

Joe, I suppose.

You don't think it's a woman's job?

-She doesn't like me.

-Well, she hates me!

-Hey, Joe!

-Dicky!

-I got in the back of their car!

-Where did you go? Where did you go?

Listen, they're packing up cos of what we found out. Getting all their stuff out of London.

-We thought you were dead.

-Pipe down.

-I gave them the slip all right!

King's Cross they went. I was fair sweating, though. The bloke I tied up has gone to Glasgow.

Where they got the stuff? Did you find that out?

I know where they're shifting it, a place called Ballard's Wharf.

Cor, if you'd seen me crouching beside them.

Here! What's all this? You again, Joe Kirby? I might have known it!

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, hanging around the streets at this time of night!

-Ah! The old mare.

-Ah, don't bother about her.

Ballard's Wharf.

Alec, Norman, how many of them crooks' names do you remember out of the Trump stories?

Oh, forget the Trump. What's Ford going to do now?

He's going to get the shock of his life. I've got a big idea.

-What, again?

-Give him a chance, Norman.

Larry the Bull and Slimy Sam.

Holly Knox and Chopper Wilson, the bloke that used to bump off blondes with a meat hook.

-Come on, Norman.

-Bob the Thief.

He tried to chuck Selwyn Pike into a bath of acid. What is this idea?

Benjamin Butler, Eddie the Moose and Smokey Andrews.

He tried to plug Smiler with a poisoned dart in Death Comes At Midnight.

Smokey Andrews.

OK. I reckon old Ford will have to believe us if we round up this little lot.

-Us round them up?

-Us and a lot of others.

Listen, they know the game's up, see, but the other blokes don't.

They'll be looking in their Trump same as usual next week.

-For their orders.

-That's it.

Now, listen, can you pinch old Wilkinson's story out in the post tomorrow, same as Rhona used to?

-Well, I suppose I can, but...

-You got nothing to worry about.

There'll be another story along at your office in next to no time.

-Are you going to write it?

-Me? No.

No, I won't do it. It's asking too much.

I won't even consider it.

OK. Then I'll have to let them crooks know it was you what put us onto their code.

-This is blackmail.

-That's right.

But if you write the story just the way I've asked,

no-one won't even know, I promise you.

Such base ingratitude.

Larry the Bull, Slimy Sam, Chopper...

-You want them all included?

-Yes. And don't forget the password, Seagull.

-When do you want this done?

-First thing in the morning.

First thing in the morning? I've never written a story of this length in under two days!

Well, then, you'll have to bust your record!

Remember what happened to Nicky the Nark.

It'll mean missing all my sleep.

All of it.

Oh, how I loathe adventurous-minded boys.

INAUDIBLE

Guv'nor, what happened? Did he create?

It wasn't my fault, there was a bloke come and rescued them.

-If only you'd been...

-Hey, hey, give us a chance.

-Do you mean about last night?

-Yeah, Inspector Ford.

-What did he say when he found them gone? He was pretty wild, I bet.

-He was, Joe, pretty wild.

You wait, he's going to be thanking us soon, cos I think we're onto the boss of the gang.

You're onto the boss of the gang?

Yeah, and I reckon he was the one what come and got the others out.

I don't know his name yet, but I got the number of his car.

-EMU 2O.

-Carry on, this is interesting.

-I know where he's putting all that stuff what he pinched.

-How did you find that out?

-A pal of mine was earwigging. Not bad, eh, guv?

-Very smart. Very smart indeed.

But I don't know if you'll be able to get hold of Inspector Ford again.

-Think he won't believe it?

-Well, after last night, of course.

-He'll believe it all right, once we round up the rest of the gang.

-Oh, that's the plan now, is it?

Well, the boss of this gang is moving all his swag to Ballard's Wharf, see,

so we're having a special story in the Trump this week

telling all other crooks to go and pinch it.

You and the boys are going to catch them red-handed?

That's the idea. Making a real big do of it.

Saturday afternoon. Reckon it'll work, guv?

I'm sure it'll work, Joe, I'm sure it'll work a treat.

-The Battle of Ballard's Wharf.

-Yeah.

THEY LAUGH

HE LAUGHS

Guv!

CAR ENGINE ROARS Guv'nor! Guv'nor! Guv!

"Never in the annals of crime had there been such an assembly of desperadoes

-"as met on the Saturday afternoon."

-MAN LAUGHS

"Thieves, kidnappers, stick-up men, blackmailers, bullies, murderers..."

HE LAUGHS

"..all listened eagerly, their villainous faces aglow, as Larry the Bull outlined his evil plan."

HE LAUGHS

"That kid Smiler," announced Larry with a triumphant grin, "has played right into our hands.

"He's led us all unwitting to the plunder.

"Let us hide forthwith to number 401 Crampton Street."

What? Let me see that!

-Why? What's the matter, Jim?

-Why, those little...

401 Crampton Street is the code for my place, not Ballard's Wharf. They've found out!

-Found out what?

-For heaven's sake, don't be so dumb.

They found out I never shifted the stuff to the wharf and changed it.

They're sending all our chaps down to my warehouse at Covent Garden!

-Wait, Jim, what are you going to do? What about me?

-Oh...

Working overtime, eh, Joe?

Where are the others? Your pals?

It's no use you holding out.

I've just been reading my Trump.

Where are they, Joe?

Ballard's Wharf.

Now, now. What's the good of you telling me lies?

I know you've changed the story.

-They're at Ballard's Wharf.

-For the last time, Joe!

I'm telling you, they are at Ballard's Wharf.

We wanted to catch some crooks with the stuff on them

so we told them to fetch it from here and take it there.

I see. Well, I didn't get that far in the story.

So you and I are all alone, eh?

That's fine.

-You've taken a tip from me, eh?

-I have?

-Sure.

I put a phoney story in the Trump to catch you, didn't I? Sent you all to Ritchie's.

But you were too smart for me, Joe, and now I've been a little too smart to you.

Wise move of mine, getting you working here.

You see, Joe, after that business at Jago's, I had to keep a very special eye on you.

Now pick up them oranges!

Mustn't have the place looking untidy. We're expecting visitors.

HE LAUGHS

It's going to be quite an occasion.

Their first meeting with the big-shot.

-What time are they invited for?

-They'll be here any minute now.

I stayed behind to open up the place for them.

And how were you going to account for your presence here?

That was the idea of putting a password in the story.

-I figured they'd wear me all right once I'd give that.

-Yeah.

Yeah, of course, the password. I was forgetting.

What made you pick on that particular word?

Seemed like a good sort of signal.

There's one of our blokes, he can make a noise...

-What particular word?

-The password.

Cor blimey! I was forgetting!

You didn't get that far into the story!

Oh! Let me go! You're hurting me!

You're hurting! I won't tell! You'll not get it out of me!

You didn't know the password, did you? You brute, you!

HE LAUGHS

-Who are you?

-I'm the boss.

-Who are you?

-Seagull.

-Now, that's more like it. Young Smiler, eh?

-That's right, mate.

-So he's the boss of this place?

-Seems like it.

I was sent here to open the place up for you and he came along and copped me.

Tie him up and gag him, Larry. You two, get on with the loading.

I'll keep watch on the corner.

Any sign of danger and I'll stroll by whistling the Lambeth Walk.

Pass that on to the others, will you?

PHONE RINGS

Operation Seagull.

HE IMITATES SEAGULL

HE IMITATES SEAGULL

Operation Seagull.

OK. It's worked! Come on!

Yeah? I just got time.

Come on, fellas, it's time! Come on!

Come on! Get going!

She won't take it, Larry.

What's that?

-Kids.

-Ah!

HE SHOUTS WAR CRY

Come on!

THEY SHOUT

..And showery in the north of England and Scotland.

Now, here is a late item of news which has just come in.

"Urgent, all boys wanting a big adventure go immediately to Ballard's Wharf..."

And make it snappy!

Keep it up!

HE GRUNTS

THEY SHOUT

HE IMITATES BOMBING

Get them off me! Get them off of me!

THEY CHEER AND SHOUT

Come on!

Bash him! Come on, kids, kick them!

-Oh, you coward!

-Do the lot of them!

Stop that van!

THEY CHEER AND SHOUT

TYRES SCREECH

TYRES SCREECH

HE GROANS

Nightingale!

DISTANT LAUGHTER

DISTANT LAUGHTER

DISTANT LAUGHTER

TRAIN HORN BLARES

JOE SCREAMS

You won't take my money!

Oh!

JOE SCREAMS

Oh!

DISTANT SHOUTING

THEY CHEER

# O, for the wings

# For the wings of a dove

# In the wilderness

# Build me a nest

# And remain there for ever at rest. #