By CONST. MICHAEL CRAMOND

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes—and Blondes Sometimes
Prefer Money—and So It Was that Telgraph Opera-
tor Frank LaRue, Pounding His Key at One of B.C.’s
Northern Outposts, Figured He Could Commit the
Perfect Crime—But C.N. Railway Investigators and
the British Columbia Police Took His Story Apart
Piece by Piece—But It Was the Teddy Bear that
Gave Them the Lead.

WHEN THE black shining bulk of a
C.N.R. locomotive pulled into the station
at McBride, B.C., on December 16th, 1924,
glistening ice hung in spines from her tre-
mendous bulk. Herbert Ludgate, local
cashier, hustled from the warmth of the
r station into the
sub-Arctic cold.
There was an im-
portant package
on the train, a
parcel of fifteen
hundred dollars in
small bills —the
payroll for Me-
Bride Companies,
as there was no
bank in the town.
Amid the rush of
unloading express
parcels, Ludgate
signed for the re-
gistered package
of currency, and put it in a little satchel.
He slung it on the post of the baggage
truck, that held the incoming express
bundles and began to push the wagon
towards the shed. One of the few train
greeters came forward and helped him move
the loaded vehicle over the packed snow
on the platform.

The following morning Const. Samuel
Service of the B. C. Police—who was sta-
tioned at McBride—pushed his husky legs
through the foot deep fall of fresh snow.
He pulled his Irish nose deeper into the
warmth of his greatcoat and whistled a bar
or two of an Irish jig into his turned-up
collar. He was on his way to check the
westbound freight for drifters and hoboes
beating their way to Prince George, 150
miles further down the line. Looking over
the platform he saw two men clearing off
the snow with shovels. Thinking it was an
unusual manner in which to gain exercise
in 40 below weather, he went on about
his business, checked the train and went
back to his detachment.

TWELFTH EDITION

Const. S. Service

In the forenoon of the same day, Herb
Ludgate came quietly into the police office
and asked to speak to him privately. When
they were alone, Ludgate’s nervousness in-
creased. He explained that the sum of
$1,500 in currency which he had received
on the previous day was missing.

“Do you mean stolen from the safe?”
asked Service quietly.

“To tell the truth I don’t know!” an-
swered the worried cashier helplessly. “I
seem to remember putting it in the safe
and locking it up yesterday morning, but
in the rush of getting the express off the
train I couldn’t be sure. I only know that
when I went to get it out of the safe this
morning it wasn’t there.”

“Was the safe locked?” quizzed Service.

“Oh, yes. I always lock it after the day’s
business anyway.”

“Then you don’t know if you put it in
the safe or not?”

“T can’t be sure...
thought I did.”

“Was that why you were shoveling off
the snow on the platform this morning when
I was down. there?”

“Yes. I thought possibly I had dropped it
in my hurry.”

“Could anyone have stolen it before you
locked the safe last night?” pursued Const.
Service.

“Possibly, but the men working with me
are trustworthy. They have had lots of op-
portunity to get away with funds previous
to this, even larger amounts. I don’t think
any of them did it.”

“Have you notified your superiors?” asked
Service thoughtfully.

“No, only Mr. Henderson, the station
agent. We have been hoping it would turn
up. That is why I came to you for your
advice,” replied Ludgate despairingly.

“T would notify your head office if I were
you,” said Service.

“To tell the truth [ve been so upset I
was afraid to do so—I had hopes that it
would turn up. I even wired the Express

right now, but I

Const. M. Cramond

messenger on Train No. 3 to see if I had
left it on the car by mistake. It wasn’t
there.”

“T think you had better get in touch with
your head office. And if you will give me
a line on your fellow employees, I will see
what I can do in the way of investigation.”

After several minutes of close question-
ing, Const. Service had a brief resume of
the men working at the C.N.R. Depot.
Most of them seemed beyond possibility of
complicity in the crime—if indeed there
had been a crime. There was one man, a
young French Canadian named Francis
LaRue working as a telegraph operator,
about whom he could not be sure.

LaRue was fond of women and liquor
and only on the night previous to the rob-
bery-had Service gently but firmly informed
a young lady friend of the Frenchman’s
that her presence in the locality was not
appreciated by the town’s people and the
B. C. Police in particular, that it might
be wise if she vacated the hotel room in
which she was staying and moved her bag
to another town. She had taken the hint
and left. The fact that LaRue had made no
attempt to conceal his interest in the blonde
Lucille Blain was evidence of a chink in his
moral code. But, that was slim evidence
against a man, particularly when there was
actually no immediate evidence of a real
crime. Const. Service decided to wire his
superior, Staff-Sergt. A. McNeil at Prince
George and discuss the case with him, while
awaiting the arrival of the C.N. Railway
investigators.

On December 20th, 1924, Capt. O. J.
Wheatley and Investigator George Keep, of
the Canadian National Railways Investiga-
tion Department, arrived at McBride and
were met by Const. Service and another
Railway Investigator, Jim Gibb. After close
consideration of the facts of the case, the
C. N. investigators decided to approach
Ludgate to see if he would mind having his
home searched. Ludgate near nervous pros-
tration complied with the suggestion only

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