RGL e-Book Cover 2018©
RGL e-Book Cover 2018©
Ladbroke (Lionel Day) Black (1877-1940) was an English writer and journalist who also wrote under the pseudonym Paul Urquhart. His life and career are summarised in the following entry in Steve Holland's Bear Alley blog:
Black, born in Burley-in-Wharfdale, Yorkshire, on 21 June 1877, was educated in Ireland and at Cambridge where he earned a B.A. He became assistant editor of The Phoenix in 1897 before moving to London in 1899 where he joined The Morning Herald as assistant editor in 1900. He later became assistant editor of the Echo in 1901, joint editor of Today, 1904-05, and special writer on the Weekly Dispatch, 1905-11. After a forgettable first novel, "A Muddied Oaf" (1902), co-written with Francis Rutter, Black collaborated on the collection "The Mantle of the Emperor" (1906) with Robert Lynd, later literary editor of the News Chronicle. He then produced a series of novels in collaboration with [Thomas] Meech under the name Paul Urquhart, beginning with "The Eagles" (1906). Black also wrote for various magazines and newspapers, sometimes using the pen-name Lionel Day. His books ranged from romances to Sexton Blake detective yarns. His recreations included sports (boxing and rugby), reading and long walks. He lived in Wendover, Bucks, for many years and was Chairman of the Mid-Bucks Liberal Party in 1922-24. He died on 27 July 1940, aged 63, survived by his wife (Margaret, née Ambrose), two sons and two daughters."
ALTHOUGH Red Magnus was a gangster, and had a reputation for being 'quick on the draw,' he had, nevertheless, a simple, primitive mind that was only capable of one thought at a time. The great thought at the moment was a baby—Savory Mont's baby. Red Magnus had stolen it. It had been a great coup, but he'd brought it off with the assistance of the 'boys.'
He ran the motor launch under the overhanging trees at the head of the island creek, and switched off the engine.
Then he picked up the ten-months-old morsel of humanity that had been sleeping peacefully in the tiny cabin of the launch throughout the journey.
'Come on, baby. You're worth more than your weight in gold,' muttered Red Magnus. 'You're going to cost Savory Mont, your daddy, half a million dollars.'
Holding his precious burden with extreme care, he stepped on shore, and made his way through the woods.
His blue eyes lighted up with pleasure as he reached a clearing, in the middle of which stood a neat little bungalow. This was home. True, he wasn't often there, but that fact only made the sight of it more pleasant to him. And Maisie, his wife, was always there waiting for him. Her soft, musical voice greeted him as he approached the bungalow.
'Why, Red, what have you got there?'
There was a clatter of high-heeled shoes on the veranda steps as a slim, pretty girl came down to meet him.
'A baby, kid. Savory Mont's baby, Going to collect half a million on him.'
Before he could say another word, Maisie had taken the baby from him. As she looked down into the slumbering features of the infant, her face grew curiously soft.
'The dear little darling!' she whispered, in a soft accent which betrayed her Irish origin.
'I brought him here because a woman must look after him,' explained Red. 'You'll have to be careful with him, kid. Remember, he's worth half a million dollars.'
He followed her into the bungalow, and watched her with smiling eyes as she laid the sleeping baby on a couch.
'That baby just gives the finishing touch, Maisie,' said Magnus. 'This is real home—you and the kid and our own little shack.'
The girl removed the baby's lower garments so that his little dimpled legs could kick freely.
'Going to stay long this trip, Red?' she inquired presently
'I reckon to stay a week, Maisie. That'll give time to let things develop. Then we can get busy calling the stakes on this business.'
To one who led the life that Red Magnus led, that week in his lonely island home was a blissful holiday. Maisie was the best of wives, and the way she took to the Savory Mont kid, and the kid to her, was truly remarkable.
'My little woman is looking after the baby all right —don't you fret,' he told the gang later. 'She dotes on that kid. You ain't no cause to worry that anything's going to happen to him... Let's get down to the ransom business.'
At first all went well. The news that Mr. Savory Mont had received a mysterious message demanding half a million dollars as ransom for his stolen baby was circulated throughout the length and breadth of the world.
Three weeks slipped by—three weeks in which Red Magnus was kept busy on the mainland without any chance of seeing Maisie at their island bungalow. And then, just when everything had been settled, when all the details for the payment of the ransom had been arranged, there was a hitch.
The gang read the news in the papers. The report ran:
'Reliable information has reached Mr. Savory Mont that a cruel attempt at the impersonation of his child had been staged, and the secret negotiations which have been carried on for the last three weeks with a certain gang believed to be in possession of the kidnapped baby have been called off.'
'Something must have happened to the baby,' a member of Red's gang exclaimed, and the others agreed.
The result was that Red Magnus went flying back to his island home. As he hurriedly approached the bungalow he heard Maisie's voice crooning: 'The little precious!.. Does he love his mammy, then? Isn't he a great walker, now?'
He found Maisie in the shade of the veranda, and there, to his immense relief, was Master Savory Mont, with his plump little cheeks all dimples, learning the art of walking on very sturdy but unstable legs.
'Well now, if that ain't a relief!' Red exclaimed.
Maisie had been so engrossed in the baby that she was unaware of his arrival. Now, startled by his voice, she grabbed the child protectively into her arms, and turned to him, her face rather white.
'Oh, so it's only you, Red... You quite scared me.'
'Of course, it's only me,' he answered, taking her in his arms and kissing her. Then he blurted out all about the hitch that had arisen over the baby's ransom.
'Almost seems as if they don't want the kid back,' he grumbled. 'Nice state of things, isn't it, Maisie? Why, what's mother-love worth if it won't pay half a million dollars to get the kid back? They're even saying now that this ain't their, kid. That's the excuse they're giving for backing out.'
'The precious is worth much more than half a million, isn't he?' Maisie crooned to the baby.
THE next morning Red was early astir.
'I must be getting back to the boys, Maisie,' he said at breakfast. 'They'll be glad to hear that it's all O.K. with the baby. Give it a few days, and we'll call Savory Mont's bluff.'
Then, Maisie, who never interfered with her husband's affairs, made a startling proposal.
'You'd better leave this business to me, Red,' she said firmly. 'You and the boys are making a mess of it. I'll see Mr. and Mrs. Savory Mont and fix it up.'
'You!' her husband exclaimed in astonishment. 'Why, whatever are you saying?'
'That a great big silly like you doesn't know how to handle a job like this. You've got to stay here, Red and mind the baby. I'll run over to the mainland, and I'll be at the Savory Mont's place by the afternoon.'
Red Magnus raised dozens of objections, but in the hands of his wife he was like clay.
THAT afternoon a slim, veiled figure presented herself at the country residence of the baby's parents, and was admitted to the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Savory Mont.
'You don't know my name, and it doesn't matter anyway,' began Maisie. 'I've come about your baby. I've been looking after it for the boys.'
Mr. Savory Mont sadly shook his head.
'I don't suppose for a moment you're the woman you say you are, but in order to cut this interview short I may as well show you this letter I have received. It states perfectly clearly, as you see, that the baby held by the gang who are trying to extort money from me is not our baby.'
'Ah, I know all about the letter,' Maisie replied quickly. 'I wrote it. But we've got your kid all right. Say now, hasn't he got a little weeny birthmark under his right arm? And isn't there a scar on the toe of his left foot where the burnt is?'
Mrs. Savory Mont rose agitatedly.
'It's our darling!' she cried. 'I know it's our darling!'
But her husband waved her aside, and turned and faced Maisie.
'If what you say is true, why did you write this letter?' he demanded.
'Well—you see, I got so fond of the kid that I just couldn't bear to part with it! Where I live, I'm all alone. It was just heavenly having the wee darling to look after. Sure now, isn't he the sweetest, baby that ever walked?.... The little limbs of him!'
Her face was curiously soft and her eyes were shining.
Mr. Savory Mont blinked.
'But if you say you were so fond of him, that you couldn't bear to give him up, why have you come here?'
Maisie drew in a deep breath, and her cheeks flushed.
'Sure I shan't be needing anybody else's baby in six months' time—so—I'll be getting along... And you'll have the darling back in the very best of health and looking a picture.'
She gave a little breathless laugh. 'Sure me own'll be the very spit of him—I feel it in me bones—and he'll be my very own!'