J.  J.   Marric   (John Creasey)
Gideon and the Innocent
Shoplifter

About Commander George Gideon, Chief of the C.I.D. (the
Criminal  Investigation  Department  at  New  Scotland
Yard)... There are times when Gideon is deeply troubled
about his Job, times when he stops being a policeman and lets
his emotions get the better of his reason. (Who would want it
any other way?) . . .
Detective: COMMANDER GEORGE GIDEON

It was bad enough when the Metropolitan Police had to deal
with criminals born and bred in the British Isles, and there
were plenty of them. It was worse when a foreigneran "alien" in
the official terminologywas the suspect. It was worse still, in
the opinion of George Gideon, the Commander of the Criminal In-
vestigation  Department  at  New  Scotland  Yard,  when  this
foreigner was a young American.
Gideon seldom gave personal attention to petty larceny, unless
there was something very special about it, and shoplifting nor-
mally became his worry only when it reached major proportions.
But an American teenager under suspicion of shoplifting was a
different matter.
And so Gideon sent for the boy, now in custody at Cannon Row,
the police station across the narrow road from Scotland Yard. At
first sight Gideon was troubled. This was little more than a boy,
small, fragile-looking, pale. Standing opposite Gideon, and com-
pletely dwarfed by him, Morris K. Barnes from Chicago looked
like a Lilliputian confronting Gulliver.
Nevertheless, appearances could be deceptive, Gideon reminded
himself. This might well be a hard, tough, professional criminal;
in Chicago, as in nearly every large city in the world, they
trained criminals young. He must not be swayed by the youth
and apparent innocence of the lad now facing him.
"Your name is Morris K. Barnes?"
"Yes, sir."
"You came from Chicago to London by air last month?"
"That's right."
"You have a work permit for this country, and you said that
you had a job at Hooper's, a department store, but this is not
true."
"No, sir, it isn't true."
"Why did you lie?"
"I believed I could find a job when I came to Englandbut to
get this job I had to have a permit, and to obtain the permit I had
to have a job."
"Have you tried to find work since you've been in England?"
"Yes, sir."
"What kind of work?"
"Every kind, sir, from soda jerk to bellboy, but no one is in-
terested in someone who only wants to stay for a few weeks."
"Can you give me any proof that you've applied for these jobs?"
"Yes, sir, I can show you letters received from employers who
decided not to hire me."
"Why did you want to come to this country in the first place?"
"My grandparents came from London, and I always wanted to
spend a summer in England. I'm still in high school, but I saved
the money for my passage from a newspaper route."
"Have you ever been accused of any crime before?"
"No, sir, I have not."
"How much money did you have when you were arrested and
charged with stealing goods from the chemist's shop?"
For the first time Morris K. Barnes looked puzzled.
"What's that, sir?"
"The chemist's shop. What you call a drug store."
The pale face cleared. "I had what you call a sixpence and some
coppers," young Barnes said respectfully.
"Where were you planning to sleep tonight?"
"In one of your parks, I guess."
"Have you slept out before?"
"Yes, sir, most nights since I've been in England. After my first
week here I realized that all the money I'd brought with me was
going on hotel bills. And I couldn't earn any more because I
couldn't get a job."
"How much money did you bring with you?"
"Twenty-five dollars."
"Often been hungry?" demanded Gideon, almost angrily; but his
heart was growing heavier within him, and the severity of his
manner became harder to maintain.
"Yes, sir, I've been very hungry plenty of times."
"You had nowhere to sleep, you had no money, you were hun-
gry, you had lied about your work permit and doubted if you
could get a job. Is that the picture?"
"Yes, sir, that's right," the youth admitted slowly.
"So you went into the chemthe drug store and stole some
cosmetics, hoping to sell them and get some food, at least."
The young American did not reply immediately. He drew him-
self up to his full height, and pride was like a cloak about him.
He looked Gideon straight in the eyes, and said, "No, sir, I did not
steal."
"You went into this drug store. You took certain articles from
the counter. The manager asked you for payment and you admit-
ted that you could not pay. So the manager sent for a policeman."
"That is true, sir."
"Why did you take the goods from the counter?"
The pale cheeks were touched with pink, but the steady gaze
did not falter.
"I had  an idea,  sir.  Oh,  I know it sounds crazy now, but
thenwell, I was so desperate I just didn't stop to work it all out.
I thought that if the manager would let me try to sell some of the
goods in the streetthere were lots of people outside, but none of
them came into the shop1 might earn a commission. I didn't
know you had to have a permitanother permit"the boy's lips
curved in a wry smile"to do this. Oh, yes, sir, I see now that the
whole thing was impossibleeven if I'd had the permit, how was
he to know I wouldn't just walk off with the stuff and not come
back? But I knew I'd come back, and somehowwell, I just
thought he would know it, too.
"I was taking the stuff to the manager, sir, I really was. I
thought if I actually had the things in my hand he couldn't refuse
to let me try, especially as he had no customers. I told him this,
sir, but he wouldn't believe me. He thought I was stealing them."
"I'm not sure I blame him," said Gideon dryly. "What did he say
to you?"
"He said I was a bloody lying Yank, sir."
"And what did you do then?"
"I hit him, sir."
"I understand you have a powerful punch," Gideon remarked.
"I box featherweight, sir. I'm the high school champion. I'm
sorry I hit the man. I really am."
"He is not proceeding with a charge of assault, only with a
charge of shoplifting," Gideon said. "Did you tell anyone else
about your idea?"
"No, sir. It came to me suddenly. There was a bar next door to
the drug store and I thought if I could only make enough commis-
sion for one meal, maybe my luck would change."
Gideon contemplated the boy for what seemed a long time. The
young American moistened his lips and Gideon thought he was
fighting back tears.
"Do you like London?" Gideon asked abruptly.
The boy's expression changed.
"Yes, sir. Iyes, sir! I think London's a wonderful city. Every
day I visit someplace I haven't seen before." His eyes were bright
with enthusiasm. "I've been to all the places I've read about, like
the Tower of London and the National Gallery and the Monument
and the markets andoh, almost everywhere, sir. I certainly like
London. In one way I was glad I couldn't get work, because I had
plenty of time to visit these places."
"Which did you like most?" asked Gideon.
The youth did not answer at first, but his eyes clouded; a ques-
tion intended to lighten the mood had in fact brought tension. Gi-
deon, by now more than half convinced of the boy's honesty, con-
centrated on this change of expression.
Slowly and deliberately Barnes answered.
"I guess it was the day I spent at the Old Bailey. I had heard a
lot about British justice, and I certainly saw it in action."
His answer could be cleverly calculated; or it could be genuine.
Was there any way in which Gideon could make absolutely sure
whether or not Barnes spoke the truth? After a long pause he put
a very different question, wondering as he did so at his concern to
establish the boy's innocence; it was almost as if he were dealing
with the future of his own son.
"If you stood trial by jury, and the evidence ~given was exactly
what you've told me, what verdict would you expect?"
The answer came almost at once.
"Guilty, I guess."

"So you know your story doesn't sound convincing?"
.  .Another pause, and the boy answered, "I know that very few
people will believe me, sir." He stopped abruptly, as if checking
himself from going on, and Gideon waited. Now the expressive
face showed a certain diffidence. "May I ask you a question, sir?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe me?" demanded Morris K. Barnes.
I 'should have expected it, thought Gideon, deeply troubled. I've
stopped being a policeman, I've let my emotions get the better of
my reason. He did not answer, still cudgeling his brain for a way
to make absolutely sure of the boy's honesty. But he could see
none. He could, however, see the disappointment which began to
affect the other, and could imagine the despair which had begun
to creep over him. Still silent, Gideon faced the fact that, demand-
ing the truth from this boy, he himself had now to give an answer
which must be true.
At last he spoke. "Before I tell you what I think you must un-
derstand this. My opinion doesn't affect the law. The law is served
by evidence, not by opinions. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. I do believe you."
After the first shock of surprise, happiness shone from the dark
eyes, but Gideon was still troubled. He might believe that the
boy's story was true. But would a magistrate believe it?
"Thank you," said Morris K. Barnes.
"You still have to satisfy the magistrate," Gideon reminded
him. "And I can't prove, and you can't prove, what was really in
your mind when you took those things from the counter." He
frowned. This was a charge brought by the company concerned;
there was no way in which the police would now drop it, no way in
which they could try to persuade the company to drop it. Yet
much of what the lad had said could be proved, if he, Gideon, was
prepared to take a little extra trouble.
Gideon's sense of responsibility toward this boy suddenly
seemed very great indeed.
He stood up, walked slowly round the heavy desk; and placed a
hand on the boy's shoulder. "I want you to plead not guilty when
you are charged, and I shall arrange for someone to ask you some
of the questions I have asked you today. I'll have your answers
checked, so they had better be the same ones you've given iqe.
Then you'll have to hope for the best from British justice."
"The answers are true, sir," Morris K. Barnes said, "so they will
be the same."
That evening Gideon was totally unable to dismiss the boy from
his mind, and the next morning found him sitting in court listen-
ing intently to questions and answers. Each reply given by the
young American was the identical one he had given Gideon the
previous day; each emotion throbbing in his voice, passing over
his face, was the same emotion he had shown before.
And the impression he made on the court was the same impres-
sion he had made on Gideon.
The solicitor for the complainants conferred in ~whisperss with
the gray-haired shop manager. The elderly magistrate~frowned, as
Gideon had frowned, obviously of two minds.
"Is anything known about the accused?" the magistrate asked
sharply.
A police officer stood up.
"We have made certain inquiries, sir, and the accused's state-
irients on all matters which can be proved have been verified up
to the moment when he stepped inside the shop. That is all, sir."
There was a short pause Then the solicitor for the complainants
stood up, looked about him, stared at the pale-faced American boy
in the dock, and said, "With your permission, your worship, my
clients would like to withdraw the charge. They feel there is suffi-
cient doubt, in view of all that has been said, as to whether the
accused did intend to steal. Moreover, they would be glad to take
Mr. Barnes into their employ while he remains in London, your
worship."
It was one of the few occasions on which Gideon had seen that
particular magistrate smile.
"A very sensible decision," the magistrate said. "I hope you
enjoy the rest of your stay with us, young man."
But the young man did not seem to hear him; he was looking at
Gideon.