Jottings from readers diaries
Northern Weekly Gazette, Saturday 24 September 1932
One careless action
In the shadow cast by the big oak tree two men sat. It was quite early in the evening, about ten minutes past seven. The day was Tuesday. Every Tuesday evening, a t half post seven, Mr Charles Laybrooke, a wealthy business man, and his big fair-haired wife, would leave home in one of their shining cars, bound for the theatre or some other place of amusement. In the house would remain the maid and Mr Laybrooke’s valet. The cook had left two days before and had not yet been replaced. The other servants did not sleep in.
From much patient and painstaking observation the two waiting men had learnt that no sooner had his master and mistress set out Jian the valet generally slipped away and spent the rest of the evening at the “Green Lioness.”
The maid, not relishing being left alone in the house, would join her young man, who waited for her at a discreet distance. Thus the house was left unguarded, and easy of access, since the maid, having no latchkey, was in the habit of leaving the back door “on the latch.”
All this information had been gleaned through weeks of careful observation, and now Bill Glenne and “Snooker” Jim Wilkes considered the time to be ripe to carry out an exceptionally easy “coup.”
To pass away the time while they were waiting, the two men were munching sandwiches. Occasionally one or the other would drink from a bottle of beer set beside them. They had taken care not to bring too much drink.
“Nearly time, Bill,” remarked “Snooker” Jim a t length.
“Good. We’d better move up to the house now.”
“It’s going to be an easy snip,’ grinned “Snooker,” tipping up the bottle.
“Don’t be so sure,” replied his companion gravely. “Nothing’s so easy that you can be dead certain about bringing it off. You’ve got a knack of doing careless things, “Snooker,” and spoiling everything at the last minutes. You’re lucky to have me to take care of you. Well, we’d better be moving. Haven’t you finished that beer? Drink it up and come along.”
“Snooker” Jim grimaced and tipped the bottle up again. Then he flung away the empty bottle, and, making a ball of the sandwich paper, took aim at the serious Bill.
“Don’t be a fool!” snarled Bill. “I can see you’re coming over funny again. Cut it out and come on. And remember—one careless action might finish us.”
Not that Bill really believed that. This time i t was all too easy. Let “Snooker” laugh, dance and sing if he wished, there was no < ne to hear. The Laybrook’s house stood apart and the neighbours, even if they were at home, which was unlikely, would in all probability remain ignorant of the fact even if murder were being committed in the Laybrooke domicile and the victim screaming for help with all the power of his lungs.
The two men crept along until they came m sight of the house. There they concealed themselves and watched. A large, shining car was drawn up in front of the steps.
After a few minutes, Mr and Mrs Laybrooke emerged from the house, descended the steps and entered the car. The chauffeur banged the door after them, ran round, climbed into the drivers’ seat, and the beautiful car moved smoothly forward.
Scarcely had they gone when a man, clapping a bowler hat on his head as he went, left the house from the back door.
“The valet,” whispered Bill, “and I think the maid’s sweetheart is waiting over there, under that tree.”
He was right. A moment later the maid herself left the house and joined the young man on the other side of the road.
When, they were out of sight, Bill and “Snooker” made for the house, found the door on the latch, as expected, and passed inside.
It was, as “Snooker” had termed it, an “easy snip.” Small articles of value were scattered about the house in careless profusion.
“As easy as gathering strawberries!” remarked “Snooker” facetiously, as he transferred a small silver clock from the drawing-room mantelpiece to his already well-filled bag.
“We’d better be going,” said Bill. “This is too easy. It’s getting on my nerves.”
“Go on!” grinned ’‘Snooker.” “Let’s have a feed while we’re here. There’s sure to be something good in the pantry.”
“With no cook?” asked Bill. Nevertheless, despite the sandwiches and beer that he had already consumed, he was ready to try the experiment.
But they were not given the opportunity.
As they were leaving the drawing-room a stern voice from the hall called out: “Hands up!” and they found themselves staring into a formidable-looking revolver held in Charles Laybrooke’s steady hand.
Behind him appeared the burly form of the chauffeur, also holding a revolver. The two crooks gave in.
“You got us fairly,” conceded Bill.
“Ring up the police, Brown,” ordered Mr Laybrooke, and the chauffeur hastened to obey while his master kept the two crooks covered.
“You evidently know more about my household than I do myself,” Charles Laybrooke smiled grimily. “I had no idea the house was left unguarded as soon as my back was turned.”
“You really must speak sharply to your servants,” remarked the irrepressible “Snooker”
“Shut up!” growled Bill.
Laybrooke only smiled.
“Well, anyhow,” protested “Snooker,” turning to his dejected companion, “it wasn’t a careless action that spoilt things this time.”
“I don’t know so much,” returned Bill morosely. “If you hadn’t been laughing and talking, Mr. Laybrooke would probably not have heard us, and we might have had a chance to escape.”
“Yes, that’s so,” Laybrooke put in. “The car had a puncture and we returned to fetch the other. I thought I heard someone laughing and on investigating, I found I really had some uninvited guests. Brown and I got our revolvers and waited for you to walk into the trap.”
“A puncture, did you say?” groaned Bill. “That’s just the one thing we didn’t take into account.”
“Where’s the careless action now?”
“Snooker” demanded triumphantly.
“The ‘careless action!” remarked Laybrooke, “was one which was entirely out of your control. Some unthinking, person had thrown an empty beer bottle into the road under the large oak tree, and it was that which punctured our tyre.”
The two crooks stared at each other speechlessly. A beer bottle! Under the oak tree! Bill’s face grew red. “Snooker’s” grew white.
Violent action was prevented by the timely arrival of the police.—Irene Wynn, Birmingham