True Detective Mysteries, December 1929

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True detective mysteries Vol. XII A MACFADDEN PUBLICATION December, 1 929 No. 3 CONTENTS “OUT” on PAROLE James E. Davis, Chief of Police, Los Angeles The SINISTER MYSTERY of BARINGER MANOR Mary Chenoweth This recent and sensational case of beautiful Ella McDowell Rogers shocked the entire city of Louisville! TRAPPING the “TERROR BANDITS” of SAN FRANCISCO Perry Kittredge Ilair-raising man-hunt for the most brutal and wanton killers on record! The MURDER in APARTMENT 65 Isabel Stephen The baffling case of pretty Marly se Maye of New York — who had them all guessing! WHO KILLED “SUNSHINE MABEL”? Kacy Ward Innocent 15-year-old Mabel Mayer, of Oakland, Cali)., horribly murdered by the “ wolf ’ slayer! MY BATTLE with COFFEY— INFAMOUS BUTCHER of WOMEN A. M. Thompson Inside facts on Wisconsin's bloodiest murder mystery ' HOW WE SMASHED the PLOT to OVERTHROW MEXICO D. L. Michel Captain O'Brien tells the amazing story of how he and his detectives trapped General Estrada at the crucial moment! The ASTONISHING FATE of DOCTOR DAPPER .1 mysterious "ride" — dying gasps in the silent night — t creeping, shadowy figure slinking away - William A. White The CLUE of the GRAY HAT Homer G. Wells The detectives close in on the slayers of Memphis' " Hot Tamale King ” CHICAGO’S “SHEIK” SLAYER John J. McPhaul Fast cars! — pretty women! — desperate chances! — furious gun-battles! and then — the tragic end The REAL TRUTH ABOUT CHAPMAN — AMERICA’S “SUPER- BANDIT” David Lindsay Taking the mask from Gerald Chapman! The “BURNING GHOST” of LAKE NEBAGAMON Merlin Moore Taylor “I SAW HICKMAN HANGED!” J. St. Clair King The “MYSTERY GIRL” of MONTMARTRE Robert W. Sneddon Cover design painted by Dalton Stevens MONTH: INSIDE FACTS on the SNOOK CASE “ONYX GIRL” Sensational, brutal killing of Grace Roberts. Phila- delphia's most beautiful model and called “ The Girl With the Form Divine .” One shock follows fast upon another in this great detective thriller! The SINISTER RIDDLE of CAMP DIX The famous detective, Ellis H. Parker, gives the inside story of what can truthfully be called “one of the greatest detective cases on record" — that of the cunning, scheming murder of Sergeant Gregor, at Camp Dix. Here is real detective work that holds you tense from the opening line! The MURDER PLOT at the DEW DROP INN Chief Daniel T. McKelvey, President of the Police Chiefs of Pennsylvania, grips the reader with suspense in his nerve-thrilling account of the dastardly attempt of Fotte, notorious white-slaver, to burn alive the be- loved priest. Father Fleming, who had interfered with his nefarious schemes to enslave young girls — and how Fotte got his! The MYSTERY of the 13th KEY City Detective Otto W. Phillips, of Columbus, Ohio (the man who “broke” Doctor Snook in one of the most sensational murder cases ever known), gives in True Detective Mysteries the exclusive, inside story of this amazing Doctor Snook-Theora Hix case, blazoned in every newspaper in the United States — but the real story here revealed to the public for the first time! Don't miss this detective masterpiece! “TAKE HIM For a RIDE!” Captain “Jimmy” Bean, crack detective, gives a sizzler in the baffling Carmine Buono murder at .Ventura, Calif., early in 1929 — disclosing methods of hard-boiled Italian gangsters that make one’s hair stand on end! WHO KILLED BILL JACKSON? The great story of the sensational murder of Bill Jackson, the detective, friend of Theodore Roosevelt and Jack London, at Willimantic, Conn., on January 29, 1929 — a case that grips the imagination and leaves one stunned by its almost unbelievable disclosures! Also a great instalment of MY BATTLE with COFFEY— INFAMOUS BUTCHER of WOMEN; The STRANGEST 3RD DEGREE— how Folsom’s “toughest” broke, wept and confessed because of kindness; the smashing conclusion of TRAPPING the “TERROR BANDITS” of SAN FRANCISCO, and other thrillers by leading detectives and police officials — all in the January True Detective Mysteries, on sale everywhere December 15th rai ( MEMBER OF TRUE ROMANCES GROUP) PUBLISHED MONTHLY BY NEW METROPOLITAN FICTION, INC., WASHINGTON AND SOUTH A.VES.. DUNELLEN. NEW JERSEY Editorial and General Offices: 1926 Broadway, New York, N. Y. Advertising Offices: Graybar Building, New York City. Edwin E. Zoty, President M. A. Wood, Secretary Gilbert L. Parks. Advertising Director Copyright, 1929. by New Metroi>olitan Iriction, Inc. Copyright also in Canada and Great Britain. EnUred as second class matter, Sept. 27. 1928, at the PostOffice at Dunetten, New Jersey, under the Act of March 3. 1879. Additional entry at New York, N. Y. Price 25c per Copy in U. S. — .30c in Canada. Subscription price $2.50 per year in the United States and possessions; also. Cuba. Mexico and Panama. All other countries (including C anada) $4.00 tier year. All rights reserved. Chicago Office: 333 N. Contributors are advised 18 Bride I.ane, London, E. C. Michigan Ave.. C. H. Shattuck. Mgr. London Agents: Atlas Publishing & Distributing Co., Ltd.. 18 l ontnvHiurh arc uui .occi to retain copies of their contributions; otherwise they are hiking an unnecessary risk. Every effort will be made by us to return unavailable manuscripts, photographs and drawings, but ice will not be responsible for any losses of such matter contribuUd. The pictures used in this magazine to illustraU the stories are of actual people, but are not intended to be a likeness of, nor to depict the individuals named in such stories, unless such pictures are specifically labeled. Printed in U. S. A., by Art Color Printing Co.. Dunellcn, N. J.

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True Detective Mysteries 3 ELECTRICITY Becomes Amazingly Easy When Taught Without Bcoks or Lessons DAYS Why work at dull, uninteresting jobs that will never pay you more than $35, $40 or perhaps $50 a week? Make up your mind NOW and become a master of electricity! Train in 12 easy weeks to hold down the kind of a job that pays $60 and up a week, and which creates a constant demand for your services nearly any place in the world! No Books No Classes Electricity, as taught in the Great Shops of Coyne, is surprisingly easy to grasp. That's because we use no books. You learn by doing actual, practical experimenting on big, electrical machinery— finest outlay in the country. You learn by doing — and you learn from the ground up. Not a CORRESPONDENCE SCHOOL Experts work right along with you every step of the way. You get personal attention— you are trained not by books but on actual electrical machinery. The COYNE WAY gives you real, sound knowl- edge that fits you to do practical electrical work in all its branches. jn QllV INCLUDED IS You Act Now! . R. PARE will be refunded upon enrollment from any point in the U. S. to Chicago. AVIATION my big new Aviation Electrical course in- cluded at no extra charge. RADIO course included ab- solutely without any extra charge. AUTO course, covering truck and tractor electricity. SEE COUPON! 1 2 3 4 JVO EXPERIENCE or Advanced Education Necessary You don’t need one days’ previous electrical experi- ence or advanced education to master electricity the Coyne way. Some of our most successful gradu- ates never went farther than the 8th grade. Earn While You Learn By special arrangement, our employment depart- ment helps students locate part-time work, if they want to earn while they learn. And after gradua- tion we give them the benefit of our FREE EM- PLOYMENT Service for Life. Every week we secure many positions for Coyne men. Get FREE BOOK Write today for my big book on Electricity with over 150 photographs. Learn what great onportu- ^ m 5 for you. Also get Offer. No obliga- nitv Coyne Training opens full details of my Big 3-; tion. Mail the coupon now NEW HOME - This is our new, fireproof, modern home wherein is in- stalled thousands of dollars’ worth of the newest and most modem Electrical Equipment of all kinds. We have now the larg- est amount of floor space devoted to the exclusive teaching of prac- tical electricity in the world. Ev- ery comfort and convenience has been arranged to make you happy and contented during your training. ELECTRICAL SCHOOL H. C. LEWIS, Pres., Est. 1899 500 S. Paulina St., Dept. 99-94, Chicago, 111. COYNE FREE BOOK Coupon r^C. LEWIS, President I COYNE ELECTRICAL SCHOOL, Dept. 99-94 . SOO 8. Paulina Street, Chicago, 111. I Please send me your free catalog on Electricity and details I of your railroad fare allowance and extra courses. No ob- ligation on my part. | Name | Address wH City State

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True Detective Mysteries “I SAW HICKMAN HANGED!” An eye-witness to the execution of little Marian Parker's slayer here paints an unforgettable word- picture of just what went on when the State of Cali- fornia took a life for a life. . . . W 'ILLIAM EDWARD HICKMAN, slayer and mutilator of twelve - year - old Marian Parker, marched out of the cell at 10:08 o’clock this morning, and exactly two minutes later was plunged through the trap to his death. After fifteen minutes he was pronounced dead. The time consumed for the noose to do its work was one of the longest periods ever taken to kill a man on the San Quentin gallows, according to Warden Holohan.” — News item in a San Francisco newspaper. At exactly 10:08 o’clock. Warden Holo- han gave the signal to the executioners and the death march of William Edward Hickman, California fiend-killer, started. Two minutes later, he was shot through the trap into eternity! When the four of us, all reporters from San Francisco newspapers, had boarded the ferry-boat for Sausalito, the sun had just risen above the hills surrounding San Francisco Bay, deepening the purple of * those famous waters and making the scene before us one of glorious beauty pulsating with life. It was a morning to make one glad to be alive, yet it mocked our mood. When the ferry docked, any one of us would have tossed overboard a week’s wages to have been off the assignment. AN electric train got us to San Rafael at 9 o’clock. There we were met by two local reporters who had agreed to drive us to San Quentin, three miles dis- tant, where the hanging was to take place. San Quentin is situated on a point of land jutting out into an arm of the bay, and as we neared it a low’, heavy fog was seen hovering over the vicinity. Passing through a huge, iron gate, a guard di- rected us to a space between two cars. There were already more than thirty auto- mobiles parked along the driveway. “Have you left anything in your car that might fall into the hands of a con- vict?” asked the guard, peering into the tonneau of the machine. “No, sir,” replied one of the boys meekly. Odd how polite one becomes within the shadow of a penitentiary! Our party walked toward a group of men standing in front of the administra- tion building. It was just 9:15. At 10 o’clock sharp, Hickman would drop through the little trap-door on San Quentin’s double gallows. Such was the invariable rule. A guard came toward us. and one of the boys from the San Rafael paper recog- nized him. , “Hello, Bob!” By J. St. Ci.air King of the San Francisco DAILY NEWS William Edward Hickman, the youth- ful killer, as he appeared shortly after his arrest “Hello, Foster! Come over for th* hanging?” “Yeah. What do we do. Bob?” “Go inside and sign your names in the book.” We followed Foster through a little door in the side of one of the huge double doors to the main prison yard. As wfe entered, I noticed a ponderous tome lying open on a desk. A guard stood near-by w ith a pen in his hand. Signing, I glanced at the top of the page where a short, type- written paragraph appeared. It began: “7, the undersigned, am an official wit- ness to the execution of William Edward Hickman. . . ." That was enough for me. I w’as posi- tive, now, that I w’anted to be any place but where I was! Altogether there were ninety-seven witnesses, besides thirty guards, present at the execution. After signing, we were told to remain in front until called. OUTSIDE, men were standing around in small groups talking in lowered voices. Everything seemed to be hushed as the fatal hour drew near. Except for a few trusties needed to carry on the daily routine of the prison, all of San Quentin’s 4.000 and more prisoners are locked in their cells on a hanging day. This has been a rule at the prison for several decades, a guard informed us. It was 9:30. I turned to my companions to mention the time, when someone remarked : “They'll be calling us soon. They always put the witnesses near the death chamber about twenty minutes be- fore the execution.” A Catholic priest stepped from the Warden’s office and nodded to a group nearest him. “Warden Holohan has just announced that the execution will be held on time.” He passed on. I approached a guard, and we talked for a while on general prison topics. I decided to ask him a few questions I had long been curious about. “Tell me this, Officer,” I said to him. after a thoughtful pause, "supposing a man weighing two hundred and fifty pounds was dropj>ed the same distance as a much lighter man, wouldn’t the drop, or the sudden jerk at the end of the drop, decapitate him?” “OURE it would! But he's not dropped ^ the same distance. The length of the rope depends on the weight of the victim. We have it figured out to a mathematical certainty just how’ far a man weighing so much can be dropped without jerking his head off and at the same time giving him sufficient drop to break his neck. A fraction of an inch either way might prove disastrous.” “But doesn’t the rope ‘give’ a little?” “Not one of our ropes!” he replied emphatically. I then learned that California is one State in which prison inmates make the instruments with which their fellow’ pris- oners are executed. When a condemned man goes to the gallows in either San Quentin or Folsom, he is hanged with a rope constructed, cured and stretched by prisoners whose sins against society have merited terms behind stone walls instead of the noose prescribed for slayers. In a little room in the Penitentiary a number of convicts are engaged in making ‘hanging hemp.’ In this room twenty ropes are kept hanging at all times. When the rope is finished, it is steamed in a vat to make it pliant and then stretched with a heavy weight on the end. Each rope as it is hung up bears a card noting the date finished. There they dangle, aw’aiting vic- tims. The rope with the earliest date is taken when the last hour comes for a man in “murderers’ row.” But they promptly hang up another one so that the needs of the gallow’s will always be amply served. By the dates, it is possible to tell days in advance which rope will encircle the ( Continued on page 6)

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True Detective Mysteries 5 Look What These Cooke Trained Men Are Earning H Makes $700 in 24 Days in Radio “Thanks to your interesting Course I made over $700 in 24 days in Radio. Of course, this is a little above the average but I run f rom $10 to $40 clear profit every day, so you can Ml/AU mL&m "" it’s a shame for you to earn $15 or $20 or $30 ' a week, when in the same six days as an Elec- trical Expert you could make ■sootoSlOo — and do it easier — not work hal f so hard. Why then remain in the small-pay game, in a line of work that offers no chance, no big promotion, no big income? Fit yourself for a real job in the great electrical industry. I’ll show you see what your training has done for me.'* RED G. McN ABB, 848 Spring St., Atlanta, Georgia $70 to $80 a 4 week *or Jacquot J “Now I am specializing in rail Auto Electricity and battery Mm work and make from $70 to MRnH $80 a week and am just getting started. 1 don’t believe there is another school in the world v ■ v ' /' I hke yours. Your lessons are ■SBHRR a real joy to study." ROBERT JACUUOT. 2005 W. Colorado. Ave. ________ Colorado Springs,* Colo. .1 ^20 a Day for Schreck rtMmmr 1 "^my name as a reference and depend on me as a boost* l tr. The biggest thing I ever Learn to Earn $3*000 to $5*000 a Year Today even the ordinary Electrician— the “screw driver” kind — is making money— big money. But it’s the trained man — the man who knows the whys and wherefores of Electricity — the Electrical Expert — who is picked out to “boss” the ordinary Electricians — to boss the Big Jobs— the jobs that pay $3, OCX) to $5,000 a Year. Get in line for one of these “Big Jobs.” Start by enrolling now for my easily learned, quickly grasped, right- up-to-the-minute, Spare-Time Home-Study Course in Practical Electricity. Age or Lack of Experience Started Now— Mall Coupon 8 No Drawback tiSSS,1 W."n3 L‘ L- C~*«- » You don't have to be a College Man; you don't have *!roof L. L. Cooke School to be a High School Graduate. AsChief Engineer of JoThini and*-! Of Electricity theChicago Engineering Works, 1 know exactly the JouMl en j o y n«Dt 119 ^ kindof training you need, and 1 will give you that them. Mnketho // p rlsr..o hi training. My Course in Electricity is simple, etart today fora// # v-mcago, in. thorough and complete and offers every man, re- ^ gardlcss of ago, education, or previous experience, the ■*? E'1 , // m chance to l>ecome, i n a very short time, an * ‘Electrical Ex- £enU In I M FF 1 v pert,” able to make from $60 to $100 a week. NO& I !/_• A No Extra Charge for Electrical // / J f n | I j] I did was answer your adver- |j tisement. I am averaging bet- than SflOO n mnnt h 4rr\ m ter than $500 a month from my own business now. I used to make $18.00 a week." A. SCHRECK. Phoenix, Arizona Working Outfit With me youdopractical work— at home. You start right in after your first few lessons to work at your profession in the regular way and make extra money in your spare time. For this you need tools, and 1 Rive them to you— r> big complete working outfit s. with tools, measur- ing instruments, and a real electric motor — 6 outfits in all. Your Satisfaction Guaranteed So sure am I that you can learn Electricity — so sure am I that after stud yingwith me, you. too. can act Into the “big money” class in electrical work, that 1 will guarantee un- der bond to return ever y single penny paid tncin tuition, if, when you have finished my Course, you are not satisfied it was the best investment you ever made. And back of me in my guarantee, stands the Chicagp Engineer- ingYVorks, Inc., a two million dollar institution, thus assuring to every student enrolled, not **VVlicn I began with you I was just a common laborer, go- ing from one job to another, working for anything 1 could get, and that wasn’t much. Now my salary is $3,500 a year and the Company furnishes me with an automobile.” C. O. Beckett. 108 Maple Heights. New Lexington, _ Ohio El 50 Lawrence Ave., Dept. 119, Chicago Send me at once without obligation ^ your big illustrated book and com- ’ plete details of your Home Study Course in Electricity, including your outfit aud employment service oners. onlv a wonderful training in Electricity, but an unsurpassed Student Service as well. Name Address Occupation \ The "Cooke Trained Man is the' Big Pay Man — - • 8 flTM \ a j JL V\ K^vlvfu 1 ki

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6 True Detective Mysteries neck of a given slayer condemned to die. My friends called and, starting to join them. I remarked to the guard: “It must be terrible to hang a fellow creature!” “Oh, I don’t know,” he replied with a sneer. “The guards that do the hanging get twenty-five dollars and an extra day off!” At 9:37 we saw Warden Holohan leave his house, situated on top of a knoll, and walk over to the administration building. As he entered the door, someone asked him a question. He shook his head. A few minutes later a guard came out of the office of the captain-of-the-yard. “All right, men. Single file!” We formed a line and marched through the big double gates into the prison yard surrounded by a high, stone wall. On top of the wall uniformed guards with rifles could be plainly seen. Beautiful yard! Myriads of flowers! We stood in front of the women’s quar- ters, the windows of which were frosted. They couldn’t see the flowers. Figures of men in black-gray stood at the windows of their cells watching the procession of men who had come to see Hickman hurled into space. Standing there, waiting for the word to move on, the yard captain walked down the line. “No smoking, men ! Stand where the guards put you! Don’t talk!” HF gave the guard at the head of the procession a signal, and we moved down the slope to the three-story, red brick building in which is the death cham- ber. We mounted three flights of outside steps, passed through a small door and found ourselves in a print shop. All around us were printing presses and galleys of type. Over the door of one of the offices was a sign, “THE BUL- LETIN/* This is the name of the prison magazine. Another delay. Heart beating fast. Moist palms. I turned to my companion: “How you feeling?” “Rotten!" The head of the line started, going through double doors at the end of the shop. I supposed it to be the death cham- ber. Trembling all over as I stepped into the room, I looked up, prepared to see the gallows. Instead, I found we were in a small room in the center of which stood a stove and a few rocking-chairs. At the far end were huge, double, iron doors with massive locks. A few feet and to the right of me I noticed a hand truck with something on it covered with a black cloth. I moved closer. One man asked a guard: “What is that?” “That’s his coffin,” was the reply. I looked around, but the windows were barred. Five minutes to ten! One of the double doors opened ... a guard came out. “Single file, men. No one allowed to leave till it’s all over!” Wc passed inside. I was afraid to look up for fear I’d see Hickman standing on the scaffold. When I finally raised my eyes, I saw it — that most horrible of all human struc- tures— a gallows ! It was pale green, all freshly painted. (Continued from page 4) My eyes strayed to the rope with the hangman's knot in the end, hanging be- tween the three vertical posts. The other end was fastened in the horizontal cross- piece across the three uprights. It was a double scaffold. As yet, Hickman was not in sight. I turned from the rope to the steps leading to the platform soon to be jerked from under a human being. Often read- ing that the condemned man walks up thirteen steps, I wanted to make sure; I counted them. There were just thirteen. A hand rail was on either side. BACK of the platform and raised slight- ly, was a coop about ten feet long, five feet wide by six feet high. Within were three guards. These guards release the strings which spring the trap. Only two strings function, howci’cr, the third Plagiarism Stories have berti submitted to Macfadden Publications which are copies of stories that have appeared in other magazines. Anyone submitting a plagiar- ized story through the mail and receiving and accepting remun- eration therefor, is guilty of a Federal offense in using the mails to defraud. The publishers of TRUE DE- TECTIVE Mysteries are anx- ious— as are all reputable pub- lishers— to stamp out this form of theft and piracy and are advis- ing all magazines from which such stories have been copied of such plagiarism, and are offering to cooperate with the publishers thereof to punish the guilty persons. Notice is hereby given to all who have submitted stories that the same must be ORIGINAL and TRUE being a blind. The reason for this is that each guard may feel he pulled the string not connected with the trap. An ominous quiet spread over the gathering. Warden Holohan and his secretary en- tered the death chamber. The Warden glanced at his watch, motioned his secre- tary, and both disappeared through a little door in the rear of the gallows room. I glanced at my watch. It was just eight minutes past 10. A few seconds, and three distinct taps were heard on the door through which the officials had passed. The convicts who stood near-by opened it, and the Warden and secretary reentered the room. Following the secretary through the little door came Hickman. A guard walked on either side of him. Hickman, when asked his last request, said he did not want a Los Angeles police- man at the hanging. His request was not granted, for at the foot of the gallows stood Detective Sergeant Richard Lucas of the Los Angeles Police Department, the man to whom Hickman had confessed the gruesome murder and mutilation of the little girl. He must have seen Lucas . . . waiting there to watch him die ! The arms had been strapped to Hick- man’s sides in the death cell just prior to his last walk. He had refused spiritual consolation, so no minister accompanied him. As he started up the steps of the gallows, my eyes were fixed on his face. His lips were moving as if blurting out a prayer. When he placed his foot upon the fir>t step he glanced upward and saw the rope’s end . . . the noose. It was then that his poise, amounting almost to showman- ship, deserted him. He mounted the first eight steps alone, then the fixed smile dis- appeared, he weakened and fell against the guards. He was then lifted up the five remaining steps. An expression of bewilderment crossed his face as his eyes searched the crowd below him, but he saw no friend. Two guards strapped his ankles while another placed the noose over his head, drew the rope tight around his neck and adjusted a black bag that reached to his shoulders. When this was in place, a draw-string was pulled, making the cap tight about his chin. It was when the cap was drawn over his face that Hick- man’s body went limp. With everything in readiness, the guard who seemed to be in charge nodded. An- other guard reached up, took the huge knot in one hand, gave a sharp jerk to the rope with the other and tightened the noose. A gurgling sound was heard. One of the guards raised his hand . . . and then. . . . It was quick work. Only two minutes had been consumed from the time Hick- man began his death march to the time the signal was given that plunged him through the trap. The thing was done so rapidly, in fact, that we who were there to witness it hardly realized what had taken place. The guards had moved with the clocklike precision that comes only with practise. No hurry was evi- denced, nor wasted motion; just the deft movements of men who understand their job and are anxious to finish it as soon as possible. . . . then the dull thud as the hang- man’s knot struck home behind the ear, snapping the head to one side. But Hick- man’s neck was not broken, the autopsy showed, for his body brushed the side of the trap as he was hurled into eternity. THE rope had hardly straightened be- fore the prison physician and his assis- tant, both standing underneath the gallows, shoved two small ladders under the body trembling in the death agony. The doc- tors mounted the ladders, ripped oi>en the shirt, and applied stethoscopes to the heart. Heavy breathing near me. A large man fell to the floor in a faint. It was Detective Sergeant Lucas. While three guards were carrying him to the window for air, four others fainted also. A guard a few feet away remarked : “This is a (Continued on page 8)

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True Detective Mysteries 7 Think of it! 100 pieces, a complete din- i ner service for 12 people, l in the smart Ivory Semi- Porce- % lain, for only $15.95, freight j % prepaid — and on monthly payments, L\ besides. 30 Days Trial ^ We’ll gladly send you this handsome ■ dinner set to examine and to use for 30 days on trial. Only $1.00 deposit with the cou- pon below brings it. We ship the set freight prepaid anywhere east of the Rocky Mountains. Please accept this offer Wimm without any feeling of obligation. We want to show you at our risk what a stupendous value this is; how much you can save by dealing with Straus & Schram on credit compared to what you pay locally for spot cash. After 30 days, if you’re not delighted, send the set back at our expense and we’ll refund your dollar Complete Service for IX People This lOOpc. dinnerware set— A com- plete service for 12 people— la a rich creamy ivory color. Each piece is of a distinctive design and shape, gorgeously decorated with artistic flower clusters of nink Azalia, nlue Forget-me-nots with green foliage and brown stems forming a beauti- $2— ful contrast in the field of creamy semi-porcelain ware. Each piece is triple baked by the tunnel kiln bak- ing process producing a perfect glaze and color which will be re- tained under hardest wear. No crazing or checking. Set consists of 12 dinner plates, 9 in. diameter; 12 and butter plates. 6 In.; one 9 in. oval vegetable dish; ono In. round vegetable dish; one 7* in. round vegetable diah;l sugar bowl We Pay the Freight Yes. we pav all freight and parcel post charges on shipments east of the Kocky Mountains. Our prices are net; no charges added. Free Bargain Catalog sent with or tcithou order. See coupon. a Month But if you see what a beautiful and serviceable set this is and what a big saving you have made, keep it and start paying only 12.00a month until you have paid the rock-bottom aale price —only *15.95. This offer is for in- troductory purposes, so please actqulckly.Uon’tmiss this won- derful bargain opportunity — Send Coupon Straus & Schram, Dept. 2609, Chicago, 111. ■ Enclosed find II. Ship special advertised 100 pe. Ivory ■ Dinnerware set. freight prepaid east of the Kocky Moun- | tains. 1 am to have 80 days free trial. If I keep the Set 1 ■ will pay you *2.00 monthly. If not satisfied. 1 am to return _ , - • - the Set at your expense within 30 days and you are to ■ cover (2 pie eea) i, 1 _u aAnAai( I pitcher; one 10Mt in. platter, mm so refund my deposit. | In. platter; 1 large covered vege- lOO pc. Dinnarwara Sat Mo. G6695A. S15.95 ■ tabie dlth (2 pieces); 1 gravy boat; S 1 gravy boat stand; 1 open bowl. 1 ■ pt. 1 pickle dish; one 8\ in. butter Same _ ................. ............ ■ dish; one 10 in. bread plate. Ship- ■ ping weight about 90 lbs. Street, R.F.D. ® Order by No. G6695A. $1.00 or Box No... 1 — ■ with coupon. $2.00 a month. I Total Bargain price only I $15.95. Freight Prepaid Shipping f*oinl I east of Rocky Mts. ~~ .^..2. j Straus & Schram, Chicago, 111! c*. borne furnishings, mark X here . J laiHamaaaHMaMaiBiMamaHmaHBaiM^aaiBaaMaaaaBmsaaaamimaaasBBii^aMm

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Special 10-Day Trial Offer Send no money. Write at once for detailed deseriptlon.testi- inomals from delighted users and special 10-day trial offer. The Well Co., 15512 .Mill St., New Haven, Connecticut I 'Hides HOW TO BANISH THEM A simple, safe, home treat- ment— 16 years’ success in ay practice. Moles (also Big Growths) dry up and drop off. Write for free Booklet, W. M. DAVIS. M. D., 124-C Grore Are., Woodbridge. N. J. GENUINE No Instalment* To Pay Nothin* like it offered before. Beautiful cuaranteed UK. •oil 1 gold ring* art a ith genuine nond* only Other houae* would charge fl.VoO for aitniUr ring*. Buying direct you aare the dealer*’ profit. Remember theee are genuine dia- mond* art in aolid UK. gold ring* at only S4.0H. Noe. I and 2 are lad ire’. No. 3 it man'* ring. Send no money. State ring and »i*e wanted. Pay on delivery. It.IlH, JENKINS. 683 Broadway. N. V.. 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SAMPLE HAT OFFER Rush name for complete equipment and sample Hat offer, sent FREE. Experience not necessary. Start in spare time. I furnish everthina. Write quick. I’ll also send you FREE complete line Ratn-I*roof. Made-to- Measure Caps in latest styles. J. W. Taylor, Pres. TAYLOR HAT & CAP MFRS., Desk T-30 Cincinnati, Ohio helluva place for a man with a weak heart !” Looking again at the dangling form — a form that only a moment before had been a strong, healthy man — I saw that it was still quivering. I turned my head, and for a second thought I was going to make fifth at the window . . . The walls spun. After an age, but only fifteen minutes by the clock, the physicians pronounced Hickman dead. And thus the murder of Marian Parker — daughter of a Los Angeles banker, killed in December of 1927 — was avenged. ( Continued from page 6) a The “MYSTERY GIRL” of MONTMARTRE Who was Suzanne Danglard, the husky- voiced, intriguing “bachelor girl” of the night haunts of Paris? But — why ask? Plenty ofreason why, as this story will show! By Robert W. Sneddon A COUPLE of shots one July night, in 1928, spelled the finish of a story which no fiction creator would have the nerve to write. Had he done so you would have felt he was trying to put something over on you. But — the story which follows happens to be absolutely true in every detail. So, what can one say about a thing like that? They called Suzanne Danglard “the bachelor girl,” after the heroine of a novel that raised a fuss some years ago, even in Paris, where they are supposed to have a free and easy way of regarding literature that might impair the morals of the young. In the cafes and night haunts of Mont- martre and other pleasure quarters of Paris, Suzanne was to be seen, always with a man, but never the same man for long. This slim-waisted trim-ankled girl with the husky voice lured men, as did many another siren in the world. She took their gifts, she drank, dined, and laughed with them — but that was as far as it went. A foot might touch hers under the table, a mustache might brush her hand, but that was all. The man. who, having slipped his arm about her waist, thought he might tighten his embrace, or proceed to further liber- ties, was sharply told to “keep his paws off!” There is an impolite word in every language for this kind of woman, who takes all from a man but gives nothing in return. There was something exotic about Su- zanne which marked her, even among the “petites femmes'* who decorate the plea- sure haunts of Paris. For one thing she was not on sale in the market. She was not trying to make a living there to add to her earnings in business, as so many driven girls are forced to do who find they cannot keep body and soul together on their salaries as salesgirls, office help, or show girls in the naked “revues.” Suzanne had only one thing to sell — her company! With it, went her con- versation which men found so entertain- ing— she appeared to know men from A to Z! But there was an odd thing about her. Like Cinderella of the fairy tale, when the hour struck — not of midnight, it’s true — but well on toward morning, she would rise from the table, and, vanishing, leave her escort lamenting. Where she lived, she never revealed, and no one ever managed to track her to her home. She was “Madame Mystery” in that city of a million mysteries. Few of those who knew her in this hectic atmosphere — where she was also named “Suzanne the Chaste” by those who had seen the numerous paintings of that lady and the ‘Teeping Elders” in the Louvre — suspected that in the daytime, she was a working girl, and an industrious, well-behaved one. as her employers would testify. Coming from no one knew where, she had worked as embroideress in a dressmaking house: at another time she ( Continued on page 10) In The MYSTERY OF THE THIRTEENTH KEY, featured next month, readers of this magazine will find a remarkable story of that notorious case — the Doctor Snook-Theora Hix case, of Columbus, Ohio. Newspapers gave the facts — but not the INSIDE facts. Otto W. Phillips, one of the shrewdest young detectives in America, who played such a prominent part in bringing the guilty to justice in the famous crime case, gives the real story, as he told it to Fred Allhoff, veteran newspaper man, exclusively for this magazine. Don't miss it!

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Wonderful, water-proof lips and vige smooth, velvety. Color you want determined by amount you spread on. Used by leading Broadway and motion picture stars. Ideal as lips always match cheeks. Produces every natural rosy shade; blends with any complexion and is exquisitely scented by flower oils from France. Actual size shown. At your favorite Ten Cent Store, or send 10c in stamps or coin. REED LABORATORIES. Inc., Dept. R, Ke» Gardens. New York (Continued from page 8) was employed in a picture-frame mould- ing establishment. NO one seeing this apparently light- hearted girl, who jested and laughed with the other girls where she was em- ployed, would have guessed that her con- stant companion was the ghastly phantom of death. At any moment, a hand might fall on her shoulder, and a police car con- vey her to her doom. Only one person knew of the sword which hung over her head, night and day, and the lips of that one person were sealed. Suzanne’s friends could not imagine why she should show such interest in the progress of a measure under considera- tion by the French Government, toward the end of 1924. Their astonishment grew beyond bounds when that measure, which conferred an amnesty, or freedom from punishment, upon all deserters from the French army, was passed, for among the first to take advantage of it was “Suz- anne” Danglard! Then the many friends of the “Bachelor Girl” learned, to their chagrin, that the object of their admiration was a man — Paul Grappe, a deserter from the army! For ten years he had fooled them all, and successfully masqueraded as a woman ! When the Great War broke out Grappe was 23 and married to a girl of 18. He became a corporal in the 102nd Regiment of Infantry. He was wounded at An- dcchy, in November, 1914. A fragment of the same shell which blew five of his comrades to atoms, and spattered him with their blood, wounded him in the hand. He lost two joints of one finger — a loss for which he always had a plaus- ible reason in his later feminine career. The captain of his regiment, however, was suspicious of this injury, and charged him with having mutilated his hand, in order that he might be sent to hospital. This charge, if proved, meant that Corporal Grappe would face a firing squad. The Court-martial, however, took a lenient view of the case, and ac- quitted the prisoner of the charge of cowardice. HE was sent to a base hospital. His hand troubled him considerably from November until May of 1915. Then he learned that, in spite of his wound, he was listed to go back to the trenches. Sullenly convinced that he was being abused and, as he afterwards declared, rankling under the idea that he was re- guarded as a coward, he made up his mind to desert. Fortune favored him. He slipped through the many harriers which lay between him and Paris, a dangerous journey for anyone in his position, and managed to reach the little apartment occupied by his wife in the rue Saussurc. When she saw him she was frantic. The fate of a deserter was death. There would be no question about it, and no delay! It was impossible for Grappe to remain with her. The neighbors would talk — someone would tell the military- authorities ! The tradespeople, knowing Madame Grappe was alone, would won- der at the extra provisions she would be compelled to buy. Danger lurked, every instant, in this quarter, where Grappe was well known. “What shall I do?” she asked desper- ately. The deserter, seated at table, and ravenously finishing his wife’s meal, shrugged his shoulders and yawned : “Tomorrow. I’m tired. I’m going to bed now.” In the middle of the night, Madame Grappe wakened with a start. The light (Continued on page 12) Cash for Opinions ^^HEN you have read this issue of TRUE DETECTIVE Mys- TERIES Magazine, let us know what you think of the stories it contains. Which story is best? Which do you like the least? Why? Have you any helpful suggestions in mind? Ten dollars will be paid to the person whose letter, in the opinion of judges in charge of these awards, offers the most intelligent, con- structive criticism; $5 to the letter considered second best; $3 to the third. Address your opinions to the Judges of Award, c/o True DE- TECTIVE Mysteries, 1926 Broadway, New York, N. Y. This contest closes December 31st, 1929. The three awards will be made promptly No letters will be returned. Prizes for Opinions on the August True Detective Mysteries were awarded as follows: First Prize $10 Phre Voiers Box 791. Menlo Park, Calif. Second Prize $5 Third Prize $3 Mart Philabaum J. A. L. Nunn 60 South Main St., Mansfield, Ohio RT-6-Box-165, Little Rock, Ark.

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My business is increasing all the time.’* R. i He, Oklahoma. Makes $8 to $10 Every Afternoon "I am a mar- ried woman with three children, and on account of doing my own housework I have only been calling on my customers in the afternoon, but » never fail to make $8 to $10 every day.” Mrs. Hannah Colby, New York Earned $83 First 5 Days “It is a plea- sure to be your Representative. I started just five days ago and have earned $83. As a money - mak- ing proposition tins work has no equal.** Victor Baumann, Florid ■ Albert Mills, Pres., * American Products Co., ■ 6839 Monmouth Ave., Cincinnati, O. ■ Send me, without cost or obligation, all the J facts about your new proposition that offers ■ Groceries at Wholesale and a chance to make $10 * in a day besides. Also explain your generous ■ Ford Sedan Offer. I Name. . . ■ ■ Address. ) A.P.Co. (Print or Write Plainly)

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12 True Detective Mysteries WIN QUICK POPULARITY- PLAY THE TENOR BANJO! •• f ALWAYS took my ftistcr to parties. All the other 1 Kiris turned me down. I never could figure it out until one dav Tim Reid said to me. ‘Bob. you're a nice chap— but you're “dead." Why don’t you “pep up?" You'll never get anywhere the way you are now!’ “That evening 1 saw an ad —‘My Banio Made Me Pop- ular Over Night.* Here was my big chance. I sent for details . . . and well — “In almost no time. I was able to play even the most difficult pieces I took my banjo to our next party. Of course I was kidded — but not after I started to play. Classical tunes, iazz. ‘hot numbers.’ they came as easy as rolling off a log. That night started me towards popularity — and has won me a better job and wetest gift in the world." Do you want to be pop- ular? 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The National Importing Co. Dept. Y-37. 573 Broadway. New York City. Your Stomach My book “HEAD STANDING EXER- CISES’’ contains a complete course for developing both the internal and ex- ternal abdominal muscles. The exercises are great for those who suffer from stomach trouble or constipation. Price 25 cents in coin or 30 cents in stamps. Send today before you forget. ANTHONY BARKER 1235 Sixth Ave., Studio 9, New York City Jfew Auto Light Anywhere! •i] It Lights Instantly! - PR1TE-I ITE »uto- iata! Simply »tick it »«T «bcn oo an »uto. »ttach \ 1\ \\> Magnetized B«*> Ho,d‘ ^ Brite-Lite Anywhere! QUICK PROFITS FOR AGENTS! Agents clean up with this sensational new necessity. 2 minutes easy demonstration often sells 4 or 5 lamp* on the snot. Absolute satisfaction guaranteed. FULL SIZE SAMPLE: Try it yourself. Write for demonstrator and full sales information AT ONCE. BIG PROFITS ARE CERTAIN. Write TODAY to: NATIONAL ELECTRIC CORP. 216 High Street Dept. 108 Newark. N. J. ( Continued from page 10) was turned on. Her husband was gone! There was an intruder in the room, a strange woman, standing in front of the mirror — a woman wearing a cloth tailor- made suit. Madame Grappe looked at it dazedly — surely that was her own dress. She opened her mouth to cry out. At that moment the apparent thief turned. “Paul!” cried Madame Grappe, aghast. The deserter grinned, and twirled on his toes. “How’s that? I make a pretty nice- looking woman, eh? All but the shoes. I can’t get my feet into your shoes, but a size larger will fit me all right. Get me a pair in the morning.” “But — ” his wife protested. “It’s the only way,” he interrupted. “From now on I must be a woman ! The idea came to me suddenly.” “They will get you! You arc out of your mind! You won’t fool anybody.” "I fooled you, didn’t I?” * "CV)R the moment, yes, but — Oh, bon T Dicur “Cut it out,” he said savagely. “Stop your crying, or you’ll have the neighbors in ! Leave it all to me. Get me some clothes and shoes in the morning. My hair will soon grow, and I can fix the hair on my face. I’ll have to move from here, however, right away. It will be a wonder if someone didn’t notice me come in.” Grappe kept in hiding all that day and. in the evening, slipped out with his wife, dressed as a woman from head to foot. After some search a room was found at the top of a house in a slum street. A supply of provisions was laid in, and the prisoner — for prisoner he was — spent his days in practising a woman’s walk, in imitating a woman’s arm and body mo- tions. At night, he stole out sometimes, for a moment, but it was too risky, and he generally preferred to swelter indoors in the summer heat, rather than be discov- ered. His wife came at intervals to see him, and to bring him food. Soon, however, he had to flee this shelter. A chance word, dropped by a woman who had noticed him, alarmed him. He found another room. In order to keep himself from going crazy, he never ceased his efforts to per- fect his transformation from a man to a woman. It was a tremendous task. As he, himself, declared later, “the man who impersonates a woman on the stage is only on for a short time, 15 minutes or so. He has the advantage of make-up, and is seen under artificial light. He is seen from across the footlights, with all* the illusion of the theater in his favor. I had to be on the stage of life for 24 hours every day! I had to deceive both sexes, to mingle with them, talk with them — and the penalty of the slight- est slip in my impersonation was — death! “My voice, my walk, the way I used my arms, awkwardness in managing my skirts, forgetfulness of any of the little things which distinguish men from wo- men— any one of these things would in- stantly betray me. I had to he on my guard every moment. My voice worried me most of all. It would have given me away at once, though it was a light one. I practised speaking in a low, somewhat husky voice. Lots of women in Paris have just such voices — and I covered it with a gentle cough, and a clearing of the throat, as if I had something wrong with my vocal chords. I got it down to a fine point and used this artifi- cial voice all the time. Everyone ac- cepted it as quite natural. “But, I tell you, it was hard work! Of course, I had a good start. I couldn’t have done it if I had not had a smooth skin, a slender figure, and small hands and feet. I had my ears pierced and I wore earrings. Long earrings seem to give a feminine touch to any round face. “As time went on my hair grew. It finally became so long that it reached down to my waist. My chief danger lay in the hair on my face. At last, I had it removed by an electric process, and I kept my face massaged, and slightly made up. It was about two years before I really felt my disguise was perfect. I watched women all the time, and imi- tated their little ways and mannerisms. “T WAS so much the part that I had no difficulty in getting a job in a dress- making place. The girls used to be allowed, when it was hot, to take their sewing out to the park. We used to sit under the trees of the Boise de Boulogne. Men pass- ing by would try to flirt with the girls, and they included me, too, in their amorous glances. That made me pretty sure of my disguise. At first, I paid no attention, but the others jollied me. and I had to act my part. I can’t explain it, but it wasn’t long before I was looking for these flirtations. Men in expensive cars would stop, and invite me to go riding with them. I was always getting dinner invitations. Soon I came to th« conclusion that, if they were fools enough to offer me all these things, why shouldn’t I enjoy myself at their expense? I wasn’t making any millionaire’s income with my needle, and I am fond of good living. “I went out with some of them, but I knew how to handle them. They (Continued on page 14) To Our Readers Most of the contents of this magazine come from leading newspaper men, detectives, and police officials. But we wish to make it plain that all readers of True Detective Mysteries are invited to send in, for consideration, fact stories of crime which they deem are suitable for publication herein. In writing for this magazine, please stick to the facts. Decision on manuscripts submitted will be made as promptly as possible, and we will pay at our usual rates, for those accepted. Actual photographs are desirable. Address: True Detective Mysteries, 1926 Broadway, New York City.

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True Detective Mysteries 13 It Was the Greatest Shock of My Life to Hear Her r-how had she found time to practice ? ELL, Jim — I told you I had a sur- prise for you!” She beamed at her husband, de- lighted to see how surprised — and pleased — he was. And I was astonished, too. Quite casually she had gone to the piano, sat down — and played! Played beautifully — though I had never seen her touch a piano before. I didn’t even know that she could read notes. Neither of 119 could conceal our curiosity. “How did you ever do it?” her husband asked. “When did you find time to prac- tice?” 44 And who is your teacher?” “Wait, wait!” she laughed, tion at a time. I have no teacher, that is, no private teacher, and I do my practicing between dishes.” “No teacher?” 14 No — I learned to play the piano an entirely neu* way — without a teacher. You see, all my life I wanted to play some musical instrument, and the piano appealed to me most. I thought I’d never learn how to play it, though —for I haven’t much time to spare, and 1 thought it would take long, long hours of hard work and study. And I thought it would be expensive, too.” “Well, it is hard work, and it is expensive,” I said. “Why, I have a sister ...” “I know,” she laughed, “but I learned to play the piano through the new simplified method. Some time ago 1 saw an announce- ment of the U. S. School of Music. It told how a young man had learned to play the piano during his spare time without a teacher. I found that thousands of others had learned to play their favorite musical instruments in this same delightful, easy way. and so I decided to enroll for a course in piano playing.” “But you didn’t tell me anything about it,” Jim said. “Well, you see, that was my big surprise. Ever since I received my first lesson I’ve been practicing by myself — during the day while you’ve been away at business. I turned my spare moments between house- keeping and shopping into something pleas- ant and profitable.” “If you planned to surprise me — you’ve certainly succeeded,” said Jim. Learn to Play at Home This story is typical. There are thousands of men and women who have turned their spare moments into valuable time. In hours that would otherwise be wasted they have learned to play their favorite musical instruments through the U. S. School of Music. Are you letting priceless moments slip by when you could be learning to play some musical instrument — easily, quickly? You simply can not go wrong. First you are told how a thing is done, then by illustration and diagram you are shown how, and when you play — you hear it. Thus you actually teach yourself to be- come an accomplished musician right in your own home. Without any long hours of tedious practice. Without dull or uninter- esting scales you learn how to play real music from real notes. Here is your chance to become a good player— quickly — without a teacher. The U. S. School of Music will make you a ca- pable a?td efficient player. Many of our pupils now have positions with professional bands and orchestras. Demonstration Lesson FREE Half a million people have already taught themselves to play their favorite instruments right in their own home. To prove that you, too, can learn music this fascinating way, let us send you our free book, “Music Lessons in Your Own Home,” which fully explains this remarkable method. We will include also our Free Demonstration Lesson. The booklet will also tell you all about the amazing new Automatic Finger Control. Mail Coupon Today Remember — it is not too late to become a capable musician. If you are in earnest about wanting to play your favorite instrument — if you really want to gain new happiness and increase your popularity — send off this cou- pon at once. Forget the old-fashioned idea that “talent” means everything. Read the list of instruments to the left, decide which you want to play, and the U. S. School of Music will do the rest. At the average cost of only a few pennies a day! Act NOW. Clip and mail this coupon today, and the fascinating Free Book and Free Demonstra- tion Lesson will be sent to you at once. No obliga- tion. Instruments supplied when needed — cash or credit. L\ S. School of Music, 30612 Brunswick Bldg., New York City. U. S. SCHOOL OF MUSIC. 30S12 Brunswick Bid*., New York City. Please send me your free book. “Music I^casons in Your Own Home, with introduction by Dr. Frank Crane, Free Demonstration Lesson and particulars of your tasy payment plan. I am interested in the fol- lowing course: Have you above Instr* ... Name . — ................ Address ........................ City — ....... — State I added. “One ques- PICK YOUR INSTRUMENT Piano Violin Organ Clarinat Ukulele Flute Cornet Saxophone Trombon# Harp Piccolo Mandolin Guitar ’Cello Hawaiian Steel Guitar Sight Singing Piano Accordion Italian and German Accordion Voica and Speech Culture Harmony and Composition Drums and Traps Automatic Fingar Control Banjo (Plectrum, 5-String or Tenor)

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14 True Detective Mysteries Wholesale Prices Everything in Radio at Wholesale Prices — New Screen Grid, A. C. Humless All- Electric Sets — Stand- ard A. C. sets — bat- tery operated sets — PRICED AS C LOW AS * — also an at- tractive array of beautiful consoles — ac- cessories* parts* kits. Most com- plete catalog in radio — 106 pages of unusual price values. Write for it today! AUIED^R&DIO CORPORATI O N iTIIWUKtCT., Dept. 32 CHICAGO J HewShape^A^ Ladies Wrist Watch l*‘322 Th« w^ch yon hare been looking for— at a real bargain price. Artle- tic dial with nUnd sold Agurea . White sold color, ensraved caae. fon- tamiahahle chromium fintsh.Jewe led movement, accurate time- k-eper. two years’ snarantee. Huy iris direct from ua you save mid. dteman a profit. Send no money. Pay on delivery *3. 99 and poetave. JENKINS, 685 Broadway, New York Oapt.12-C.31 17 Park Row, New York WRINKLES Simply massage Wrinkle Oil to- night. New French secret, an oil that penetrates the skin. No clays, creams, rollers, cutting. First Trial proves it or money back. Send $1 or pay $1.15^ on delivery. Maiion Jcuncnc, Suits W-75 J-Sut/ World's Greatest Utility lift 300 CANDLE POWER— with ^ new built-in Utility Pump. Handi- est, most practical light invented. Storm-proof .rain-proof .bag-proof . Ideal for city, town, intoors.oat- doors— anywhere. Bnght white light- 20 times brighter than wick lantern? on half the cost. B urn s 9 8 per cent air— iper cent fuel , gasohneor kero- sene. Lights with ' match. Clean, odor- i less .safe. Guaranteed. 30 DAYS FREE TRIAL Try 80 days at our risk. Send for AGENTS! Make S60 to *100 a week. No ex- perience or capi- tal required. Outfit Tree to workers. Exclu- sive Territory. Write quick 1 special money-saving offer and catalog giving aU details FREE. Write now. THE AKRON LAMP CO. 172 Lamp Bldg.* Akron* Ohio AGENTS' SELL SHIRTS A Start without investment in a I profitable shirt business of your I own. Take orders in your district I for nationally known Bostonian Shirts. 51.50 commission for you ^ on sale of 3 shirts for $6.95 — Postage Paid. $9 value, guaranteed fast coloia. No experience needed. Complete selling equipment FREE! GOOD PAY FOR HONEST WORKERS ftifr earning for ambitious worker*. Genuine Broadcloth to four fast color*. Write for money-making pl»n, free outfit, with actual cloth sample* and everythin* needed to start. Name and addroaa on postal will do. Writs TODAY! SURE! BOSTONIAN MFC. CO.. Deot.N-24.W Bickford St. Boston, Mass. ( Continued from page 12) got to call me a man-hater, because I know which way to go. I’m pulled this snapped at them when they tried any tricks, but they kept coming just the same. Their champagne was as good in my glass as in some woman’s 1 Of course I had my troubles, hut I always knew how to fix a too persistent suitor. In time, they learned I was a woman who wasn’t interested in them in the way they wanted me to be. They interested me as a study. I learned a lot about men, their strength and their weaknesses, for, with me, they didn’t bother to keep up any of the sham pretense men often assume. “There were times when I got fed up with these friends, and longed for a real pal. I did find two or three who were satisfied to just sit around and talk, and let it go at that. “My worst trial was when a manly young chap fell in love with me, and swore he was crazy to marry me. I told him that I was too old — that I could never care for any man, hut he persisted in his suit. I was terribly sorry for him — there were times when I felt like tell- ing him the truth, but I couldn’t do that. Eventually, I had to be brutal to get rid of him, and even then, he was always after me.” When Grappe resumed his masculine dress, and could walk the streets a free man, he found he could not wholly go back the way he had come. “I feel I am neither a man nor a wo- man ; I am standing somewhere between the two sexes. I’m bewildered ! I am a man, and I should do a man’s work, but I can’t. I’m not interested in it, and I’m out of touch with a man’s amusements. I have become so used to being a wo- man, and doing a woman’s work, that I almost wish I could go on doing it, but that’s out of the question 1 I have a wife who stuck by me. I owe her some- thing— the rest of my life. “I can’t think. I’m wrorn out, mentally and physically. I’ve come into a new life. I’m at the crossroads, and I don’t Life Secrets of a Spirit Medium will begin in the December issue of Ghost Stories, and a more startling revelation of what goes on behind the scenes of com- mercialized spiritualism you have never read! It is a real story of real characters, and for that reason is anonymous. “Cheiro” has an amazing ac- count of the return of the mar- tyred Nurse Cavell and her mes- sage from the Great Beyond, in the same issue. And 15 other big features — all in the December number of Ghost Stories, a Macfadden publication, on sale at all news stands November 23rd. way and that.’’ Thereupon, this man. who had reversed the law of creation that man shall be man, and woman woman, tried to find an answer to the riddle of his strange exist- ence in alcohol. Even fatherhood did not make him realize that he must play the part of a man. He drank to excess, and abused his wife, who had risked her own liberty to preserve his. He threat- ened to kill both her, and his three-year- old son. On a Saturday night toward the end of July, 1928, Grappe reeled into his home in the rue de Bagnolet, and threw him- self on his bed, drunk. About midnight, the child, who had been sick, began to cry. His mother tried to hush him, but too late. Grappe awakened, and snarled to his w'ife to silence the child. As she was trying to do so, he scrambled to his feet, and struck her several times. The child, terrified, cried louder, and Grappe struck at it sav- agely. Madame Grappe tried to pull him awayf* He knocked her down and, as Grappe advanced again on the child, its desperate mother seized a revolver, kept by Grappe in a drawer, and drew* the trigger twice in quick succession. GRAPPE fell ! The neighbors rushed in ! They saw that Grappe was still breathing. A good Samaritan took charge of the little boy, while Madame Grappe, with rigid face, walking as in a dream, went to the nearest police station and told her story. Grappe wras hurried to the hospital, but died without regain- ing consciousness. The Police Commissaire having heard the story of this woman who. for so long, had so courageously preserved an un- worthy life, only to take it later, when it became too vile, permitted her to go free. If brought to trial, no jury would convict her, and it is most unlikely that her case w ill ever go beyond the examin- ing magistrate. Wings of the Unknown /^\UT of clear, sunny skies sails a silver-hued plane, the like of which has never been seen before. A silver- clad figure flashes in the sun as it drops clusters of gold, red and silver globes on the gay, admiring crowd below. A moment later — consternation, death! What is it? Who is it? No one knows. Begin reading The Silver Peril in the December issue of FLYING STORIES. Also in the December issue will appear an interesting interview writh Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh on the future of aviation; Our Perilous Siberian Mis- sion, by Captain Robert Creighton Wright, and many other fiction and fact stories of the air. Don’t fail to get your December copy of Flying Stories, the Macfadden ace of aviation magazines. On the news stands November 23rd. Twenty-five cents.

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T rue Detective Mysteries 15 This Singular Book Wields a Strange Power Over Its Readers — showing them how to magnetize their personality almost at once! Will You Read It 5 Days FREE — to Prove It Can Help Multiply Your Present Income? A STRANGE book! A book that almost seems to cast a spell over every per- son who turns its pages! A copy of this book was left lying on a hotel table for a few weeks. To quote the author, “Nearly 400 people saw it — read a few pages — and then sent for a copy!" In another case, the author reported that a physician placed a copy on the table in his waiting room where more than 200 of his patients saw the book — read part of it — and then ordered copies for themselves! Why are men and women so profoundly affected by this book?~so anxious to get a copy? The answer is simple. The book reveals to them how any man or woman — youn^ or old — can develop a Magnetic Per- sonality! It explains how to develop the personal charm that attracts friends — the self-confidence that helps insure success in any business or profession. It tells how to draw people to you — how to be popular — how to overcome timidity and self-consciousness — how to be well- liked wherever you go. It not only tells exactly how to accomplish these things — it tells you how to accomplish them quickly and easily! Whence Comes This Uncanny Volume Forty years ago, Edmund Shaftesbury, famous student of the human mind, set out to discover the secret of that rare quality — Magnetic Per- sonality. He first applied his discoveries in his own circle of friends. Results were astonishing! His methods of developing personality seemed to have the power of transforming people into en- tirely ?tew beings! Quietly, almost secretly Shaftesbury’s fame spread. Great men came to him. Among his students and friends were Glad- stone, Queen Victoria, Edwin Booth, Henry Ward Beecher, Cardinal Gibbons and others of equal prominence. Until recently, Shaftesbury’s teachings have been available only to people who could pay $25 to $50 each for instruction books. But now through the efforts of a group of his students, some of Shaftesbury’s most impor- tant teachings have been collected in a single volume, at a price within the reach of all! Furthermore, in this volume are revealed hundreds of Shaftesbury’s discoveries never before put into print. Strange Effect on Readers Readers of this book quickly learn the secret of attracting others — of influencing the men and women around them. Not by force — not by loud argument — but rather by applying certain simple, scientific rules that enable them to play on people’s feelings just as a skilled violinist plays upon a violin. This amazing book smashes all old, slow theories of getting ahead. It shows you exactly how you may tap the vast store- house of your personal magnetism — increase your vital magnetic jxjwer — harness it for practical everyday, money- making use. It reveals the priceless secrets of how to always ap- pear at your best — how to please others — how to in- crease your earning powers — how to gain new friends — how to acquire a vibrant, charm- ing voice, a more fascinating manner — how to develop in- dividuality— how to be force- ful in lousiness, successful and well* liked wherever you go! No wonder thousands of men and women say they are overjoyed with the results they have received. One en- thusiast said of this volume, Book Tells You How to develop a magnetic personality. How to gain nerve control. How to read people’s feel- ings by watching their mouths. How to end awkwardness and timidity. How to utilize your sub- conscious mind. How to get ahead in your business or profession — and dozens of other vital topics. “Things I have read there I would never have dreamed of.” Another wrote, “Cer- tainly wonderful; like walking up a stairway to a higher life.’’ “I would not give up what Shaftesbury has taught me for $100,000:” wrote another. In your everyday life — in social life — and especially in business, you will find what these people say to be true. You will find this book of immense value to you. It will help you to attract new friends and to gain the promotion and increased income which seem to come so easily to men and women who have developed that most wonderful of all qualities — MAGNETIC PERSONALITY! Read This Book 5 Days FREE You must sec this book for yourself — examine it — let it prove what it can do for you. Merely mail coupon below and this remarkable 400 page volume, with cover in handsome dark burgundy cloth, gold embossed, will be sent you by return mail for 5 days' free examination. If you aren’t stirred and inspired in the 5-day free period, return the book and pay us nothing. Otherwise keep it as your own and remit the special price of only $3 in full payment. You are the sole judge. You do not pay unless you are absolutely delighted. And then only $3. You simply can’t delay 1 Clip and mail the coupon NOW. Ralston University Press, Dept. 77- W, Meriden, Conn. 17 RALSTON UNIVERSITY PRESS. Dept. 77- W, Meriden, Conn. I I | AH right — I’ll be the judge. You may send me the I 1 volume "Instantaneous Personal Magnetism” for I , 5 days FREE EXAMINATION in my home. Within I I the 5 days, I will either remit the special low price of I only $3 or return the book without cost or obligation. I Name .. Address City « Special cash price 52.00 if payment accom- I | panics coupon. This saves heavy bookkeeping and | ■ clerical expense. Money refunded if dissatisfied I and book is returned within five days State ..... ■ price $2.00 If payment accom- I

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“OUT” on PAROLE ONTRARY to the belief of a considerable portion of the American pul police executives devote much time to thinking alxnit the prevail crime rate, its probable causes, and its possible control. Moreover, t > the edge on most other thinkers on this subject. For |>olice executi volumes on the observations and theories of others. Psychiatrists, p ogists, sociologists, penologists anti members of the Bench and Bar r ily into print. Rare is the policeman who sets forth for the benefit of otl wealth of intimate ol>servation of criminals and their behavior u|)on wl his convictions on the subject of crime. ecause of those convictions the public frequently .adjudges the police “h; id” and heartless. It is the criminal who is without heart. It is the f; are hard. mong the many solid facts that should l)e faced by any social group t •s to call itself intelligent are parole practises. The police recognize that le pattern of to-day emerges from an intricate web of many diverse fact of the tangled mass we choose to discuss, in these few paragraphs, the pc :ude toward parole, “as is.” :e l>elieve, profoundly, in the theory of parole. We believe that the ?d “first offender” should be given a chance to make good. Parole, prop lied, offers him that chance. >*e realize that the term “first offender,” as used, is a misnomer. Ra ; an individual get caught and tried the first time he offends. It is me first judicially proved offense. Society, having formally taken cognizs is anti-social tendencies, should help him make those adjustments that •come them. ,rhen a man serving a first term in prison has been closely studied by compet lorities and it is their opinion that he will not continue to offend if relea: >elieve that parole should l>e granted. ut we temper that l>elief by the firm conviction that parole cannot l>e justi iny other grounds than upon the recommendation of exj>erts, after the n nsive case study and favorable behavior prognosis — and then only w ;rvision adequate in quantity and quality is provided to aid the relef i to re-establish himself socially and economically. We do not know of e where all these conditions actually obtain. !c believe it to be a crime against society to grant parole when the numl)e >le officers supplied is so insufficient that close supervision cannot Ik*, an exercised. We know that this situation exists in innumerable Ameri s, counties and States to-day. ■* ,Te know that in our own State, reformatories and prisons are so crowded l i unfit for parole are turned out to make room for those newly senten understand that parole officers are so few in number that each must •onsible for from 300 to 400 paroled convicts scattered over a wide a low can the tax-paying public that refuses to build more and better pris James E. Davis Chief of Police, Los Angeles (l Continued on page n

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The SINISTER Mystery Baringer MANOR— magnificent representative of the modern type of fashionable subur- ban apartment house — rears its baronial roofs with an air of quiet pride and power over the tree- shaded streets and gardens of the most exclusive residential section of Louisville, Kentucky. Velvety green terraces, shrub- studded, front it;* beautiful Cherokee Park forms its pic- turesque back- ground. Awninged windows give out- ward token of the sheltered security and happy family life within. Hardly the setting for a series of events involving baffling mystery, intrigue, and blackest tragedy. And yet — well, here are the facts: Up to a little more than a year ago, Apartment 14 in Bar- inger Manor was oc- cupied by a lovely young widow, whose husband, a former newspaper man, had been killed in an automobile accident in March, 1927. Ella McDowell Rogers was her name, and she had been left, at the death of her husband — Hamilton Rogers, or “Ham,” as he was affectionately known to his friends — a modest fortune of $35,000, which consisted largely of accident in- surance. No children had been bom to the union. Young Mrs. Rogers was now twenty-nine — attractive, lovable, vivacious. Her dark auburn hair was bobbed, and worn in soft waves about an oval face. Her sparkling, dark- brown eyes were shaded with long, silken lashes. She dressed well, played a good game of bridge, enjoyed gayety, and so was an asset at social functions. CHE made frequent trips away from the city; therefore, ^ when she announced to her friends, toward the latter part of September, 1928, that she was leaving for a week’s stay in Chicago on a visit to Mrs. Pearl Heck, a girlhood friend, the visit created no comment. She planned, evidently, to return early in October, for before leav ing she made arrangements to resume a course in English, which she was taking, on Octo- ber 8th. She left on September 29th. She returned to Louisville a week later — on a Sunday, 18 By Mary Chenoweth of the Louisville COURIER-JOURNAL Not only was the basement of Baringer Manor painstakingly searched for some due to the mystifying disappearance of Mrs. Rogers, and chemical analysis made of what appeared to be blood stains, but clues and rumors led detectives everywhere in their feverish efforts to find the missing woman. Miss Cheno- weth, the writer of this story, herself made a special trip to California, and back to New York on the mystery trail. Photograph above shows a police officer being taken from a manhole near Cherokee Park, Louisville, after search for the body of Mrs. Rogers October 7th, to be exact. That after- noon she entertained friends in her apart- ment, which is on the ground floor of the Manor, and appeared to be in excellent spirits. However, with the passing of that day, she disappeared as completely as though she had van- ished in smoke. No one saw her leave the apartment, and she took nothing with her so far as could be learned. She had left no note, and telephoned no message of fare- well, to anyone. T^H IS, then, was the * situation when the city editor of the Louisville Courier - Journal assigned me to the stor>r on November nth, six w'eeks later. I immediately as- sembled what data was available. Left an orphan as a child, Ella Mc- Dowell had been reared in an orphans' home, and in child- hood was separated from her brothers and sisters. Grow- ing into beautiful womanhood, she married young into one of Kentucky's foremost families. Her husband, Hamilton Rogers, was an only child, the idol of his parents, and naturally they took his widow* to their hearts. Colonel Ira Rogers, Hamilton's father, was, in fact, young Mrs. Rogers' closest friend and financial adviser. He was a typical gentleman of the old school, and, as was perfectly natural under the circumstances, following her strange dis- appearance, shunned publicity, making it extremely difficult for newspaj>er reporters to handle the story'; indeed, in the events which followed, quicker action might have brought better results. The circumstances which surrounded the affair were as baffling as any which could have been mustered together in fiction. I^t me tell the story from the beginning just as it unfolded itself to me in an investigation which took me prac- tically from coast to coast. \Ye will begin with Sunday, October 7th, 1928. Colonel Rogers, expecting his daughter-in-law’ to return on that Sunday morning's train from her visit to Mrs. Heck in Chicago, called at the aj>artment during the morning, but she had not returned. He did not call again that day, he said.

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Ella McDowell Rogers, one of Ken- tucky's most beautiful women, strangely vanished from Baringer Manor, Louisville — and that night agonized screams were heard from the basement below her apartment! What happened? Was she murdered, and then burned in the furnace? .... Hal Harned, cashier of the Dawson Springs Bank, Dawson Springs, Kentucky, spent that Sunday after- noon in Mrs. Rogers’ apartment, ate a light supper with her, and left, he said, shortly after 8 o’clock. Since Harned’s visit to Mrs. Rogers became of prime importance in the light of what happened later, I will relate his storv in detail. Here is his version of it as he gave it to newspaper reporters who (Right) The beautiful young widow, Mrs. Rogers, central figure in the baffling Baringer Manor mystery, whose strange disappearance aroused an army of detectives and private investigators to a nation-wide search for her, dead or alive. ( Below ) Baringer Manor, Louisville. Note the arrow at the right which points to the comer window of Mrs. Rogers’ apartment, from which she mysteriously vanished. Was she abducted? All her personal belongings, in the way in which they were left in the apartment, indicated the possibility of this 19

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20 True Detective Mysteries (Above) W. Clarke Otte, Commonwealth's Attorney, who conducted a personal investigation into Mrs. Rogers' strange disappear ance. (Right) Photograph of reward circular broad- cast by the Louisville Police Department to police chiefs throughout the country in an effort to locate the missing widow mother lived. The passenger, the records show, checked out at 8 155. The driver said that he told him he was leav- ing on the 9:30 train for Dawson Springs, and asked him to return and take him to the train ; but the taxi driver did not do so. Harned did take the train, and the next morning he was at his post in the bank. The next day, also, Colonel Rogers called his daughter- in-law on the telephone, and received no answer. Lor- raine Smith and other friends were also unable to reach her on the telephone. Colonel Rogers, toward the end of the week, became alarmed, fearing that she might have been stricken ill and perhaps died suddenly in the apartment. It was hardly probable, he thought, that she would have left the city again without getting in touch with him. He went to the apartment and enlisted the aid of several ladies in the house. The janitor finally entered by cutting a window*-pane from the window' leading into the yard. They found the apartment in good order, b»»t enipp POLICE DEPARTMENT BUREAU OF DETECTIVES K,LE LOUISVILLE KY (Vi Hr, 828$ $1000 - REWARD - $1000 !i olh'ii'J fov I hr I tHitKT Journal and IV l.o«i«ulk I »n»r\ auihimso! 4, ljkI (or mltHWiinNi Wading to ihr roavirtm of hrt mrrdrm, ihnld it h- ottMithd that Mr* lib Roger* vn tbift MRS ELLA ME R0CERS. liiTn H«n« EUA ME HcOOWEll All* tifn her um IRS. N. I. ROGERS Missing from Home Since October 7th. 1928 OEMJUiniON AGE — 19 inn. HEIGH I H- S (ret 4 .Khr* WEIGH I About 11$ pound* EYES I ar* dirk broun HAIR -Bobbed. DARK BROWN kept Hurtdk waived. FAC SIMILE OF SK MATURE fhxiA Cjlcaj ~y~r\ — ■ Whrn b« ton «hr wore a bUi dim mi Uervev or my *hon tlrrm a httc *oL in floor (MirM leather tiippm It m oat koowo what kind of coat « hat was wont, o, whrthrr die «m» any kar or <tw when «K dnapprared MRS ELLA MAE ROGERS l aw tern ahoot 8 1$ p m at hrr apinmeni in ihr Ba ringer Manor Apanmrnu ihM city October 7. 1928. at whwh tunr a fnrnd left hrr in apparently good hralih and flpirit*. She had jn« rnnrncd to Urn oty alter a week * abarocr I lamination ot ihr apartment tercral wrvk* after hrr doappearancr diowed everything in it* aunttomed place, nothing divn ranged and her anucaw* nnpaeked The only thing miming from ihr apartmrni to far ai we are able to determine, w 1 wnall weed lady * bnmn Irathrr pocket book which contaowd a key to the apartment a key to her ufety drpo*n hoi at the bank, and from 82$ to 9l$0 which the n believed to have had in hrr p,«nn won To dale nothing hat drwkyrd to indicate that the may have met with fool play m 1 he apartment or budding alihoogh a tow ping foe the etrcinc tight* m ihr apart ment. which it in the hawmeni of ihr bn tiding wat femnd to have bora luotrarJ eitongh to cvtingmth thr lighit m ihr apart nwnt and ihr light* 6ti go ont dtottly brhwr I hi friend Irft hrr apartment alihoogh d*r rtprmwd no fear or alarm and imnird that if* frwnd accompany thr taticab dnvrt to ho dm mat ion winch had brm or dr red thonli brforr ihr above incident occnrrrd It it anggmrd that thr may br mffenng from Antnu t lorn of memory » and mar hr found legntervd at tome hotel, apartm.ni or confined it a vanuormm 04 fxnpool in it to to give hrr proper identity or dir may have bora kidnapped and it being hrld again* hrr vi. oe dw may have mrt with font play. Yon aor nyantnl to chn.k yoni local hotel rrgmrrv and all m« Mot toot » hr nr dir may Ir confined If yon have had any nmdmiifird prrvon of hr* drvcnption oner (Vtabrr 7th. ascertain whnhrr H may br 1 hit lady Shr hat had the following dental rmoramm* made which wonld aid m thr idmtificatKin: Shr hat two bridge* one on thr npprr ngfn ndr and one on ih. r left ndr at follow* one then tooth budge on npprr nghi udr tiro and woof hkntfnd teeth mining and replaced with poecebm dntnmwt auachcd to a Richmond crown on npprr right emptd TV- wood bndgr one npprr bodge on left ndr <ir*i bkfipd tooth miming and replaced wnh a porcelain dnmm* winch it attached to a gold clown on wood bump*! and a CLarmicharf crown on ihr cntpwl tooth Thr lower Irft wood btttpd loot b hat an aOoy Idling iwtoratnm first interrogated him: He had met the young widow several months before, when she visited Dawson Springs, a Ken- tucky summer resort. Hamed was married, and lived in Dawson Springs. On his way to attend a bankers’ convention in Philadelphia, he came through Louisville onSep- tember 29th. On his re- turn from the convention a week later, he stopped in Louisville again to visit his mother. That was Sunday, October 7th. He called at Mrs. Rjogers’ apartment that afternoon on a matter of business. He arrived at the apartment shortly after 3 o’clock. During the afternoon Miss Lor- raine Smith, who had occupied the apartment with Mrs. Rogers until September 1st, also called, and stayed about an hour. (Lorraine Smith corroborated this later. Harned was there with Mrs. Rogers when she arrived and when she left, she said. Her friend was suffer- ing from a slight cold, but seemed in “good spirits.’*) Toward evening, Harned went to a near-by delicates- sen, bought sandwiches, and he and Mrs. Rogers had a cold supper. /"\NCE, between 6 and 7 o’clock, Mrs. Rogers was called to the telephone. Harned did not clearly catch the name, but was under the impression that it was some- thing like “Jack” or “Joe.” When she hung up the re- ceiver, she explained that it was a friend w ho lived near and in passing saw the light in her apartment, knew' that she had returned to the city, and wanted to call. Harned had intended leaving on the 9:30 train for Dawson Springs, and as he wished to stop by his mother’s apartment before going to the train, he had told his hostess he wfmld leave early. Shortly after 8 o’clock Mrs. Rogers called a taxi for him. Then , suddenly , the lights went dark. They supposed a fuse had blown out, and he offered to remain with her and attempt to find the janitor; but she told him she would either retire or go to a picture showr for the rest of the evening. The taxi called at once, and Harned left his hostess in the dark. He left her in the dark, and in that darkness she vanished as suddenly, mysteriously and utterly as though the black imps of Satan themselves had whisked her away. Records at the taxicab company showed me, later, that the call for the taxi came in at 8:35. I found the driver, and he went to the apartment with me. He explained to me that he had gone in through the entrance at the side and knocked at the door. A woman’s voice had called out (although she did not open the door) and told him to bring the taxi to the entrance just in front of her door, and that the passenger wrould be ready in a few minutes. He did so and shortly a man, answering the description of Harned, came out alone and got in the taxi. He drove him to Third and Broadway, where he left the taxi in front of the Weissinger-Gaulbert, a large apartment house located on that comer, where Harned ’s Soiled dishes and the remains of a cold supper were still on the dinette table. There were small scraps of lettuce, cigarette ashes, and something which appeared to have been milk in the glasses. It was not like his daughter-in-law', the Colonel said, to have left the apartment in such an untidy condition; however, he expressed the belief that she had left hurriedly and would be back in a few' days. Oil Wednesday of the same wfeek (October 10th), Mrs. Madelaine Bell, an intimate friend of the missing woman, received a long-distance call for Mrs. Rogers. “I told the operator,” Mrs. Bell said later, “that Mrs. Rogers was not at my home and that I did not know where she

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The Sinister Mystery of Baringer Manor 21 (Right) Crowd of thrill-seekers at the lake in Cherokee Park, Louisville, watching investi- gators search for the body of Mrs. Rogers. Insets show two views of Phillip Haynes, the janitor of Baringer Manor, who insisted he did not possess a key to Mrs. Rogers* apartment, though the janitor who suc- ceeded him denied this. Dis- charged as janitor for “im- pertinence and familiarity,’* and his past investigated, it was discovered that he had a prison record. (Below) Dia- gram of interior section of Baringer Manor showing lay- out of Mrs. Rogers* apartment (Apt. 14) and the possible course taken from her apart- ment to the basement was.** At that time, she explained, she did not know that Mrs. Rogers was missing. There were several more such calls, and finally she told the operator she would talk to the party on the other end. It was Hal Harned. He was trying to get in touch with Mrs. Rogers from Dawson Springs. “I explained to him that Ella was away and that, so far as I knew, nobody knew' where she was. loiter he wrote me a letter but I never answered it,” Mrs Bell declared. A week or so passed and Lor- raine Smith, who still retained a key to' the apartment, entered to get some of her clothing w hich she had left. She had lived with that something was wrrong, and that a search should t>e made. She transmitted this information to Colonel Rogers. The old gentleman dreaded the whirl of publicity which was bound to follow' if the police were notified; he could not seri- ously believe that Ella had come to any harm. She was his son’s wife. She bore his name. His son had been the idol of his heart. He wanted to keep the whole affair from !>eing made public. It seemed impossible to think that anything Mrs. Rogers for more than a year and was perfectly familiar with every stitch of wearing apparel the young widow pos- sessed. In going through the closets and chest drawers, she made the most important discoveries in the case. Not a single stitch of Mrs. Rogers' clothing — not even a hat or coat — was missing. The hand-bags, which she had used on her trip, were in the corner of the room, unpacked, just where she had placed them, probably, w hen she came in; her wrist watch was lying on the dresser cabinet. There, too, were the soiled dishes and the remains of the cold supper. What did it all mean t Lorraine Smith wras convinced, now', could be seriously wrong, so he attempted to make an in- vestigation himself. The matter was, consequently, not rej>orted to police headquarters until October 26th, nineteen days after Ella Rogers had disappeared. Even then, instructions were issued not to give the story to the press. Just what method of investigation detective headquarters undertook, I do not know. But I do know' that when 1 be- gan to work on the story on November 1 ith, six weeks after Ella Rogers disappeared and three w'eeks after it had been reported to the police department, I could not find a single person, with the exception of Colonel Rogers, w'ho had been interviewed by any member of the police department! 'T'HERE were denials at police headquarters as late as the * night of November 16th that the matter had been re- lated; however, on the morning of November 17th, the Courier -Journal carried the first exclusive story announcing the disappearance of Mrs. Rogers. Then came the ad- mission that the matter had been under investigation by the police department since October 26th, when it was first reported. From the time it “broke” in the Courier- Journal, it re- mained a first-page head-line story' for six months, carrying more l>anners, pictures and new's space than any other story in this section of the country' for many, many years. Naturally, after my assignment to the case, I went to see Phillip Haynes, the negro janitor who was in charge of the building the night Mrs. Rogers disappeared. I wanted to ascertain if he could recall anything w-hich transpired on the night of October 7th. He was then employed at another apartment house of its kind in the same section of the city', having left Baringer Manor on November 1st. “I went to work at Baringer Manor on September first.” he told me, “and in the four weeks (Continued on page 103)

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Trapping the “Terror Bandits » Captain Charles W. Dullea, of the San Francisco Police Department (above), who gave this amazing story to Mr. Kittredge for publication in TRUE DETECTIVE MYSTERIES, has a reputation as a shrewd detective, and is a man feared by gangsters and crooks. At the time of the raids of the Terror Bandits he was Head of the Homicide Detail of the De- tective Bureau. He is now Captain of Headquarters Company "T* 1 / TERROR,'* according to the dictionary, is “an over- whelming impulse of fear — that which causes extreme fear.” Which is why the newspapers called them “San Francisco’s Terror Bandits.*’ But more than that! They were fiends, killers, brutal sluggers and cowardly slayers. And no men were ever hunted in San Francisco as were the Terror Bandits! Our entire police force, the soldiers from San Francisco’s Presidio (the lochl army post), the fire depart- ment, private police, private detectives, .United States secret service men, and hundreds of citizens joined efforts in the hunt under the inspired and able direction of Chief of Police Dan O’Brien and Captain of Detectives Duncan Matheson. During my fifteen years in the police game — seven as head of the Homicide Detail — I’ve investigated hundreds of kill- ings in San Francisco and have been in touch with hundreds of others on the Pacific Coast. Yet I*ve never known a series of crimes as savage and wanton as that of our Terror Bandits. They were vicious, inhuman brutes. Each shot they fired, they aimed at the face ; each man they slugged, they slugged in the face. One victim they shot in the cheek; a second in the mouth; a third in the jaw — and so it went. Money didn’t seem to figure. They'd go to a lot of trouble robbing one victim, then shoot down or slug the next, and speed on without even stopping to search him. Our introduction to these fiends came on the evening of October 9th, 1926, a Saturday. About 8 o’clock two young men with revolvers in their hands entered the darkened hallway of Marco Biagini’s 22 Twelve for Saturday — eight for Monday — five citizens killed — four wounded by gun- shots— six more slugged or beaten up; total — fifteen dead or wounded in twenty stick- ups in forty-eight hours! What a ghastly record! But — these wanton killers had not reckoned with the San Francisco police Avenging justice was up in arms and al- ready a terrible reckoning was hot on their trail By Captain CHARLES W. DULLEA San Francisco Detective Bureau As told to Perry Kittredge place at 9 First Court, just off First Street. Biagini, a chipper by trade, lived in a small wooden shack near the water-front. When the two gunmen entered the hallway, barely visible because of bad lighting, they came upon Biagini at the . telephone. He was arranging a dinner date with neighbors. In a side room opening on to the hall, three men were sitting at a table drinking bootleg whisky. (We later found that Biagini sold the stuff.) The first thug, evidently the leader, strode up to Biagini. “Stick 'em up!” barked this slim-faced youth of twenty- five or thereabouts. He was dressed in a dark suit and light cap, a figure about five feet eight, weighing some hundred and seventy. His companion kept in the shadow of the hallway near the front door, covering Biagini with a gun, while the spokesman crowded past into the side room, where he robbed the three patrons. “We want your money! Where is it?*' the leader demanded, coming back to Biagini in the hallway and sticking a gun in his stomach. “In here,** Biagini stuttered, leading the way to his bed- room. With shaking fingers he took $75, part from his pocket and part from a drawer, and handed it over. “That’s all I’ve g-got in the house!'* “VOU’RE lying. We know you’ve got more. Go get it or * I’ll kill you!" threatened the bandit, poking Biagini with his gun. “That’s all I've got! I can’t get you any more,’’ pleaded Biagini. With a flow of curses, the thug raised his gun and pressed the trigger. Biagini fell to the floor, blood spattering the room. Without searching for more money, the murderers immediately turned and rushed from the house. In the meantime the patrons had fled, and they took cover without giving an alarm. It was an hour before Biagini’s dinner guests went over to find him. They discovered him on his bed, where he had crawled before fainting. At the emergency hospital a short time later, twenty dollars more were found in Biagini's pockets. Had the bandits known exactly how much money Biagini had? Did they shoot him because they knew he was holding out on them? Or were they bluffing? We never did learn.

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of San Francisco Gasoline station at and Brannan streets, San Francisco, in which the Terror Bandits lined up three victims, shoved a revolver within three feet of their faces- and shot them down, one by one, in cold blood I At any rate, he died Jour days la lcr from the gunshot wound. Such was our introduction to the brutes we came to know as the “Terror Bandits.” We were soon to know more, and worse. Later that very same night an orgy of robberies brought us to our toes. Starting merely as routine stick-ups, the kind every police department periodically deals with, their frequency and the increasingly gory trail left by the bandits showed that blood-craving bends were at large. Here is the story as I pieced it to- gether next day: Between 8 and 9 o’clock Saturday evening a closed Buick owned by Miss Eda Vera Laird, of 2608 Octavia Street, was stolen. The theft was re- ported at 9. At 1 1, Harry Gianini, of 583 Filbert Street, a taxi driver, was parked at Sutter and Steiner Streets when a closed Buick drove up. A man climbed out with a gun in his hand and robbed Gianini of $28. C* I AN INI, in his complaint to the police, reported the license num- ber of the bandit’s car as 766-954. A few minutes later Melville G. Mann, Jr., of 842 Hayes Street, ap- proaching his home via Fillmore Street, was held up ai\d robbed of $12. Next came a pool-room at 1968 Lombard Street, run by Constan- tino Guillen. After parking the car, both bandits entered, one pausing in front while the other wfent to the back. The firfct bandit tossed a quar- ter on the counter and ordered a pack of cigarettes. As Guillen reached for the money the bandit stepped behind the counter, thrust a gun against his side, and rasped his formula: “Stick ’em up!” For a second Guillen was too startled to move. With a quick swing of the gun, the thug struck his victim in the face. Guillen staggered and he struck again, knocking Guillen to the floor. He then pointed the gun down and pumped four bullets into the prostrate victim. The other thug meanwhile had lined the seven patrons against the wall, hands in air. On hearing his companion’s shots, he fired twice at the helpless group — the bullets striking the wall between two men; then fired four shots at the lights, and rushed out. His partner joined him and they drove away. During all the shooting, Mrs. Guillen with her two young children had been standing in a doorway which separated the pool-room from the living-quarters, bullets striking the wall within three feet of her head ! At Sixth and Harrison the bandits robbed Manuel Salada of 806 Bryant Street, of $15.90. He reported that the last three digits of the car number were 954. (Left) How many bandits have killed just to see a man die? That is what the Terror Bandits did to Walter Swanson, young insurance agent by day, who drove a taxi by night to insure the best of care and an education for his eight - weeks-old son. Here, Mrs. Swan- son, the widow, left with a baby to provide for, is shown testifying before the Coro- ner’s Jury Five minutes later, at 12:25, the pair drove up Bryant Street and stopped opposite a group strolling along the side- walk. In the party were Mts. Emma Bird, her thirteen-year- old daughter, Emma, Mrs. Beth Bolar,all of 141 A Dore Street, and George Karaisky, of 468 A Tenth Street. One bandit jumped down, revolver threatening, while his companion leveled another gun from the car. After robbing Karaisky, they dragged Mrs. Bird into the car. A few blocks away the first brute flashed a light into her face — then switched it off with a coarse laugh. 23

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24 True Detective Mysteries (Below) Buick sedan used by the Terror Bandits,, bearing the notorious number, 766-954. This is the car used by the killers in their first slaying orgy. White circles on glass of right front door and on the wind-shield enclose the finger-prints photographed by the police. Officers of the San Francisco Police Department quickly put an end to the Terror Bandits. At the upper left is Captain Duncan Matheson, commanding the Detective Bureau. Upper right is William J. Quinn, the present Chief of Police. In the center above, is the popular former Chief of Police of San Francisco, Dan O’Brien, now member of the San Francisco Police Commission. Detective Sergeant George McLoughlin is shown at bottom of page. Detective McLoughlin, it will be remembered, figured heavily in the capture of “Big Bill” O’Connor, San Francisco’s Million-Dollar Stick-up Man, the sensational story of which appeared in the August issue of this magazine “She ain’t young enough,” he told his com- panion, who was driving. “I^et's throw her out!” And at Kighth Street they shoved her to the street and speeded away. C»od pity her if she had been “young enough”! pi VE blocks * farther the thugs spotted Anthony Gon- zales, of 91 1 Har- rison Street, on his way home. Wav- ing a revolver, one thug jumped from the sedan, ordered Gonzales to throw up his hands, and searched him. Taking $20 and his overcoat, the thug demanded: “What else have you got?” “Nothing,” answered Gonzales. The thug started to turn, gripped the barrel of the gun in his hand, and suddenly whirled back and struck up at Gonzales' face with the butt. Stunned, Gonzales fell to the ground. Without another look the thug stepped in the machine, and away they went. A few minutes later Gonzales re- ported to the Southern police station the last three numbers of the sluggers’ terror-car: 054 . At 12*40 the thugs parked by a pool-room at 2112 Market Street. Though the doors were closed and locked, Janitor James Powers was inside cleaning up. They ham- mered on the door demanding admittance, and called out some- thing about a package left in the back room. After an argu- ment with Powers, they were ad- mitted and walked directly to the back room. As Powers entered to turn on the lights, one thug knocked him to the floor with his gun butt. The two then tied him loosely with rope, looted the till of £60, and left. Powers st niggled free and notified the police, identifying the car as the same one used in the preceding stick-ups, by the license, 766-054. JUST after 1 o’clock, a friend let Doctor S. Nicholas Jacobs out of his car at the Doctor’s home at 2441 Webster Street. /Vs Doctor Jacobs walked up the stairs he heard a machine stop at the curb. He looked around in time to see a man,

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Trapping the “ Terror Bandits” of San Francisco 25 (Right) This photo shows a group of boys looking on while police exam- ine the spot where Walter Swanson's body was left lying by the Terror Bandits in a pool of blood, after he was ruthlessly shot down without rea- son or provocation. The stark brutality and frightful cruel- ty of these inhuman butchers aroused the police to a supreme effort that put the city of San Francisco prac- tically under mar- tial law 50 DV OF i\A^TER SvUKSoN TOSSED WFRfc AFTER HE MAQ BEEN. SMOT IN HlS OWN [ TAXICAB Pagano stag- gered a hundred feet, and fell dead . The killers, with- out attempting to rob him, with- out even getting out of the ma- chine, drove on down the street. Two blocks from the scene of the shooting, two men in slickers leaped out and motioned the car to halt. These men were Chief of Police Dan O'Brien and his chauffeur, De- tective Sergeant James Neeley. brandishing a gun, hop from a large sedan and run up the stairs toward him. 11 Stick 'em upl" ordered the man. Then: “Empty your pockets of what you got!" Doctor Jacobs handed out his watch, rings, and a bill- fold containing $95. The bandit then shoved him through the door, slammed it in his face, and dashed to the car. The same method was followed five minutes later with John Copren as he en- tered his home at 1914 Pine Street. One robber took $10, his watch and a scarf- pin, while his companion stayed in the machine with the motor running. AT 1:15 Lester ** Irish, of 540 Leavenworth, a driver for the Yel- low - Checker Cab Company, was standing by his cab at Webster between Washington and Jackson Streets, when a closed car approached and parked behind him. One man got out, revolver in hand, l>arked the usual staccato order, and relieved him of 54.30. Irish reported the car number as 766-954. Next, approaching Powell and Clay Streets, the thugs spied a man carrying an umbrella. (It was a damp, misty night.) Driving up beside the pedestrian, Mario Pagano of the Funston Hotel, both thugs thrust revolvers out at him. “Stick ’em up!” ordered the driver. Pagano raised his hands in alarm, his umbrella going up with his hands. Possibly unnerved by the umbrella raising, probably through pure wantonness, the thugs each fired a shot at Pagano as he stood there frightened and helpless. Chief O'Brien had been visiting in the neigh- borhood and was leaving the apartment of a friend when he heard shots. He and Neeley, starting to in- vestigate, saw a speeding machine approaching with- out lights. It electrified them into action. Their signal to the driver was countered by revolver shots. Drawing their own guns, both O'Brien and Nee- ley returned the fire. At the Chief’s shot the man be- side the driver seemed to wince as though hit, just as the pair disappeared in the darkness. O'Brien and Neeley drove quickly to the scene of the first shooting to learn what it was all about. Here they' found Pagano's lifeless body. Turning back, they tried to pick up the trail of the killers, but were unsuccess- ful. In their fright the tjiugs had passed up $30, a w’atch, and some jewelry in Pagano's pockets. So ended the first night. In five hours* time the Terror Bandits had com- mitted eleven rob- beries, killed two men, wounded one, and slugged three in the face! But the worst was yet to come. AS soon as the first few reports came in, all available shot- gun squads, both from Headquarters and district police stations, were ordered out to comb the city. Patrolmen with- out cars were stationed at strategic points looking for a Buick sedan, license number 766-954. But our efforts were fruitless. The killers slipped through our lines. Early next morning, Sunday, an abandoned Buick sedan, with the reported license number 766-954 , was recovered on SIM G SURKOVICU UNCONSCIOUS AFTER ROBBING HIM — KILL DUANE WOUND JOHNSON AND HAYDEN v - in oil 'Te- station ^ RED TRAIL OP TERROR LEFT BY SLAYERS IN MURDER ORGY THROUGH THE STREETS OF- SAN FRANCISCO DIAGRAM SHOWS EVENTS IN SEQUENCE PERSUED BY OFFICER HENDERSON *VRECK CAR. AT © AND ABANDON 17 JUST 2 BLOCKS FROM FIRST .WURDSTR — —

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26 True Detective Mysteries The hand of Death grazed Galvin’s shoulder in that en- counter . . . and (>assed him by. Another victim would do as well. The other was Walter Swanson, a young insurance agent by day, who drove a cab by night to insure the best of care and a future education for his eight- weeks-old son. Swanson got as his fares — his last fares in this life — these two young men. At their direction he took them down near Market Street, then hack toward the Sixteenth Street via- duct. On the middle of the viaduct he was instructed to stop; the fares wanted a drink. They, invited him to drink with them. (It was almost dark by this time — shortly after 6; the sun had set at 5:39 ) As Swanson walked around the cab to meet them, he was confronted with a revolver and ordered to hand out his money. One bandit searched him while the other took his cap and badges. rPHEN the first, the older bandit, the leader, shoved his revolver three feet from Swanson’s head, peered along the sight, and pulled the trigger. Wantonly, brutally, without cause or provocation, this madman shot Sw'anson dow-n, shot him just under the left eye, shot him to death. At this unwarranted and savage murder the younger bandit, companion of the killer, started to run away, horrified. But the killer called him back and the accomplice was too frightened, too fearful for his own life, to disobey. Haight Street l>etween Octavia and I,aguna. Blood on the glass of the right front door, on the seat inside, and on the floor near the driver’s seat gave proof that Chief O’Brien’s shot had found its mark. The watch and empty bill-fold of Doctor Jacobs, one of the victims, were found on the floor of the car. We photographed the glass of the door and wind-shield for finger-prints, after which the Buick was returned to Miss I* *aird, its owner. We immediately warned doctors and hospitals to report any man applying for first-aid treatment for a gunshot wound. We s|>ent Sunday interviewing victims, visiting the scenes of the stick-ups, locating witnesses, and taking victims to the bureau of identification to look over pictures of known hold- ( Above) Spot on Mariposa Street where the Terror Bandits slowed up beside Michael Petrovich, asked “ What time you got?” and as Petrovich reached for his wratch shot him in the face and again they didn’t even get out of the cab! (Right) Powell Street, near Clay, where bandits drove up beside Mario Pagano, yelled ” Stick 'em up!” then shot him through the neck as he stood helpless and unresisting and speeded on without getting out of the cab up men, to see if they could identify them. Our only results were meager descriptions oi the bandits. Sunday night, extra patrols cruised about with shotguns, rifles, and riot guns, but the bandits kept undercover. . Monday, how'ever, wtts tragic — sickening. Those human juggernauts of destruction hurtled once more through the streets, slugging and slaying helpless victims, callously leaving the bodies dead and dying where they fell while they seeded on to continue their bloody orgy on other unlucky citizens. TN thirty-five minutes’ time, starting about 6 o’clock and * ending about 6:35, the killers, fit committing eight hold-ups in eight separate spots , slaughtered three unarmed victims , wounded three , and slugged three. Sometime about 5:40 that Monday afternoon two young men, one about twenty-five, the other about eighteen, stopped at the telephone station of the Yellow- Cab Company at Twenty-Ninth and Mission. They accosted I^awTence Gal- vin, 1312 Jackson Street, a cab driver, who was just leaving on a call. “Let’s go!” called the older man, reaching for the cab door. “I can’t take you,” replied Galvin. “I’ve got a load. But I’ll get you another cab.” “Never mind, I’ll get it myself,” replied the man gruflly. The killer put on Swanson’s cap and badges and the two drove off, leaving Swanson's body, untouched, sprawled where it had fallen in a rapidly forming pool of blood. During the rest of the evening’s orgy the killer wore the insignia of a cab driver and drove the cab, while his companion sat on the back seat as though a passenger. It w-as a clever ruse, for while these Terror Bandits shot and slugged a trail of blood about the city, word spread that a Yellow- taxi driver had run amuck. The stunt threw- us com- pletely off for a while. But to continue Five minutes later, driving east along Mariposa Street, the bandits spotted a man strolling along the south side of the street between Vermont and .San Bruno Avenues, enjoying his after-dinner cigar. The bandit driver, slowing up Inside the man, leaned out of the cab and called: “What time you got?” The |>edestrian, Michael Petrovich, ( Continued on page So)

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Marly sc Mayc (above), mysterious figure in this lurid drama of passion and murder. Did a he place the clue where it would be By Chief Assistant District Attorney I. J. P. Adlerman Bronx County, New York Citv As told to Isabel Stephen (Below) Here in this deserted room of death, more than two months after the crime, the sister of Andrew Devolo, the murdered man, found by mere chance an important clue to this dark mystery. This clue was discovered under the scarf on the dresser shown to the left of the French doll and but a few feet from where Devolo had been found dead, lying sprawled across the bed The Murder in Apartment 65 " Please forgive me for what I am going to do ...” read the note. Did Marlyse Maye, tempestuous French war bride (shown at right), really shoot to death her lover, Andrew Devolo, in Apt 65? (Photo below) What was tjie grim secret 1 back of this mysterious slay- ing, and who did it? 1 BELIEVE one reason why true detective stories have become so popular is that people, generally, have become “evidence wise.*’ They know' that the arrest of a criminal is only half the battle. The other half is his conviction and punishment. The writer of mystery fiction dangles through his pages a certain number of suspect-puppets, and challenges his readers to pick out the guilty one. With the arrest of this man or woman, all other suspects are scrapped; the job of the author’s transcendental detective is done, and he retires, covered with glory. Conviction and punishment are gxdished off in a three- line paragraph — unless the fictitious murderer has a particularly charming 27

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28 True Detective Mysteries yi LOUD ringing of the telephone on the night desk in the Highbridge station-house gave the police their first inkling of the tragic "Murder in Apartment 65." The time was exactly 12:05 on Sunday morning, November 13th, 1927. Lieutenant Phelan, in charge of the night desk, lifted the receiver, listened to an anonymous caller, promised to send a man to the address given, and hung up when the person who telephoned refused to give his name. “I hat was a squeal about a stabbing case at Fourteen- Seventy-Seven Townsend Avenue, top floor. Apartment Sixty-Five,” he informed Detectives Winterhalter and Henry personality; and in that cast' he is ]H'rmitted to escaj>e, for reasons that fill a page or so! Kducated by the daily papers and tales of actual detective cases, modern crime story fans are keenly aware of the many facets that circle around the center point on which the chief sus|>ect is impaled. Thou- sands of them have sat in jury-l>oxes while murders have been tried. They real- ize that in building up a hole-proof case against the defendant, the |>olice de- partment and the district attorney’s office work hand in hand to guard against the |>ossibility that some un- suspected complication may l>e dug up by the other side and fip over the whole cart of the prosecution’s evidence. How the forces of the Law work to obtain this solid structure of evidence is ex- cellently exemplified in an atrocious murder that was committed recently in Apartment 65, 1477 Towns- end Avenue, the Bronx, New York Citv. Like the very great ma- jority of murders, this crime had no eye-witnesses out- side of the murderer, and the investigation uncovered con- fusing trails that gave to newspaper stones the sus- l>ense of a mystery serial. In preparation for apply- ing to the Grand Jury for an indictment against the person we suspected in this case, I thoroughly reviewed every atom of evidence and interviewed every detective, physician, psychiatrist and ex|>ert who had come in contact with the case, as well as person- ally talking with friends, acquaintances and business associates of the deceased and sus|>ect. By the time I had completed this sifting re- search, I felt myself completely saturated with all the details that went into the arguments for and against us. brom the human, as well as the legal and medical, stand|M)int, this murder case, which 1 am about to relate in detail, was among the most interesting that I have handled during my tenure of office in Bronx County. Smith, who had come on duty five minutes before. “Take a run over and see what's the trouble I” Jumping into one of the Department flivvers, the two men were driven over to the scene of the re|x>rted crime by Patrolman Galla- gher. Within four minutes after leaving the station- house they entered the spa- cious foyer of 1477. Buzzing gr ups in various stages of makeshift costuming surged on the sidewalks, swallowing up any questionable characters \*ho might have been lurking in the neighlx>rhood. But the excitement on the street was nothing compared with that in the hall of the sixth floor, which the two detec- tives reached by means of an automatic elevator. “Any of you telephone the station-house about a homi- cide?” Winterhalter asked the milling mob that confronted (Above) Another view of Marly se Maye, wom- an of many moods. With the cops back of her and a charge of 1st degree murder facing her, she sits in court and broodingly stares at her accusers with what thoughts pass- ing through her mind? A tragic mo- ment stirred spectators in court when Adam Maye (righ t ) American war veteran, took in his arms his French girl wife, Marlyse, accused of murder, and kissed her “a long farewell” ^^pHK block on which this apartment house is situ- ated is not the kind in which stabbing affrays would be ex- pected to happen. The tenants are, for the most part, well-to-do, conserva- tive people of comfortable means and unimpeachable reputations. Ordinarily after midnight the houses are hs dark and silent as the homes on a suburban street. When Winterhalter and Smith arrived, however, the entire front of the apart- ment buildings op|M>site 1477 bristled with agitated heads, and excited voices shouted from window to window.

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The Murder in Apartment 65 29 them when they emerged from the lift into the corridor. None claimed that civic duty. One little man. whose appear- ance typified a cartoonist’s ideal of “Mr. Consumer,’* vol- unteered the information that a French girl named Marlyse Maye, who lived in 65, had l>een shot. Jabbing his spatulate thumb on the bell button, the detec- tive held it there until the door was opened by a white-faced, fully dressed woman. The large inner hall was dimly lighted. In the gloom he saw' the shadowy form of a man bending over a lounge on which lay a scantily clad girl. At the approach of the de- tectives, the bow'ed figure straightened itself up and they saw' l>efore them a tall, alert- faced man w'ith keen, gray eyes. He introduced himself as a physician who had been summoned by a stranger. “TS she badly hurt?” Winter- halter asked him, as Smith proceeded farther into the a}>artment. “Very,” he replied gravely. “At first I thought she was dead.” “If she is as seriously hurt as that,” the detective said, “I’d like to get a statement from her at once, if possible.” “It's impossible. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She’s been addressing me as ‘Andy,* and begging me not to shoot her.” the doctor ex- plained. “The sooner I get her to the hospital, the better.” Winterhalter learned that 1477 was a new building, ai>d that the only telephone that had been installed up to that time was on the fourth floor. Pushing through the crowd, swarming in the corridor, he raced dow nstairs and called up the main desk at Police Head- quarters. He was answered by Lieutenant Devoe, who told him that an unknown had al- ready notified him of the crime, and that the various offices and officials had been notified. These included: the nearest hospital for an ambulance, the Homicide Bureau, the District Attorney of the Bronx, the medical examiner, the commanding police officer of the district, Captain Bruckman of the Bronx Detective Bureau, and the photograph bureau. Within an hour’s time, Winterhalter figured, representa- tives of these bureaus and officials would be on the scene. As this was the first homicide assignment that he and his j>artner, Smith, had received, they were naturally eager to win their spurs. They were only third-degree detectives, recently promoted from patrol duty, and on how they used tin- minutes before the arrival of their more experienced bnMher detectives would depend their future connection with the case. If they had made no appreciable progress in that hour, it would be taken out of their hands. Returning to the apartment, Winterhalter was informed by the physician, still in charge of Marlyse Maye, that the girl had sunk into a coma, so he hastened to the death chamber, where his j>artner was making a thorough search for clues. “Looks to me like a suicide pact, or a murder-and-suicide- that-failed,” Smith remarked, looking up from a crouching position at the bedside. Before answering, Winter- halter took in with one sweep- ing glance the appearance and condition of the room. It was a good-sized bed- chamber, about eleven feet by sixteen, plainly but handsomely furnished. A shaded center globe provided illumination. As showm in the sketch repro- duced on page 30, a bed jutted out from the center of one wall, having on each side a chair. Against the opposite wall was a dressing-table with a set of costly toilet articles partly covered with a man’s derby hat. Near this dresser was a pedestal with an ornamental doll on it. Between the two windows was a bureau. One window, Winterhalter noticed, opened on a fire-escape. OPRAWLED across the bed ^ was the body of a dead man; his feet, clad in bright- green socks and yellow' shoes, touched a spot on the floor near a pair of small, light- brown moccasins. Under one hand lay a pistol, and along- side the arm was a small w'ooden box. “If that’s the man Andy that the woman referred to in her delirium,” said Winter- halter, stepping over to the bed and examining the position of the body, “w'hether or not he shot her, he certainly didn’t kill himself. His head is al- most blown to pieces! Besides, that gun was planted there after he was dead. Look, Smith !” He pointed to the position of the hand. The little and ring fingers were folded on the palm of the hand, grasping three long, black hairs; and on top of the little and ring fingers the stock of the revolver lay. The middle and index fingers lay alongside the barrel, and the thumb was over the end of the barrel. “I guess it’s Andy, all right,” Smith said, looking at a business card he had taken from the dead man’s trousers. “ ‘Andrew' Devolo, Treasurer, Wexolo Realty Corporation, Fourteen-Fifty-Seven Broadway,* ** he read. “And you’ll find a snap-shot on the bureau with ‘ Adam , Marlyse and Andy* w'ritten on the back.” The snap-shot referred to showed a merry' group w hich had “But I say to him, ‘O, Andy, there are thousands of girls, but only one mother.’ And he say, ‘How you like to die with me?’ and then I hear pop, pop, pop! He was a good boy. Why he do that? He was too sweet.” In these words, apparently sincere, did Marlyse Maye, French “war bride,” place at the door of her lover, Andrew Devolo (above), the ignominy of suicide. But -was she telling the truth?

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30 True Detective Mysteries evidently been snapped during a picnic in the country. The partners then proceeded to make a thorough exami- nation of the apartment together. They found the windows and the dumb-waiter locked. The door leading into the hall show'ed no marks of having been jimmied. * ‘‘Though/’ as Smith remarked to Winterhalter irritably, “someone of that bunch outside might have come in and closed the windows! Until wre get the woman’s story, wfe won’t know if the outside door was locked. It’s got a Segal lock, and to open the door from the in- side you have to put your hand upon the brass knob and press in hard and turn it around. D’you think Mrs. Maye would’ve been strong enough to do that after she wras shot?” Winterhalter replied that he didn’t know, but drew* Smith’s attention to the knob, which had no stains on it, although the wounded woman’s hands and bath-robe were saturated with blood. The evidence collected as a result of their search included the following: Two empty shells, found on the bed, one bullet up against the wall and another in the ample clothes closet in the bed- room. Six empty shells lying around the foot of the bed, one at the dead man’s feet near the moccasins. In the the box near his arm were cartridges of the same caliber as the shells. Two identification cards, one of which requested the finder to notify Paul M. Adams, president of the In- ternational Exchange Corporation, 1 12 West Forty-Ninth Street, in case of accident; ancfthe other referring to M. W. Federbush, president, Fed- erbush Brothers Loose I^eaf Com- pany, Inc., 88 Park Place, New York City. A partly filled -out ap- plication for a permit to carry a gun, found in a bureau drawer; also a scrap of a letter, evi- dently written by the woman's husband, which said, in part: "Don't worry . Tony will take good care of you." for days, guarded by the frivolously dressed, simpering doll on the pedestal a few inches away from its hiding-place! “I’m not so sure that this is a murder-and -attempted-suicide job,” Winterhalter said when they had finished. “The way that boy’s shot up has all the markings of a typically brutal gangland bumping-off. He may have l>een a bootlegger. Bootleggers often describe themselves as real estate men, storage and moving-van companies or ‘leather goods,* as a blind, v But he agreed with his partner that the furnishings of the apartment, the » smart, conservative gowns in the ward- robe and silken lingerie in the bureaus didn’t look as if they belonged to a gunman’s moll. T^HEY were about to begin question- * ing the persons who had discovered the wounded woman when Judge John E. McGeehan, District Attorney of the Bronx, came in, accompanied by Doctor Karl S. Kennard, the assistant county medical examiner. The ambulance surgeon had arrived wrhiJe the two young detectives were searching the apartment, and was en- (Left) Joseph Wexler, partner of Andrew Devolo, who throughout the entire case, scoffed at the theory that his friend, Andy, had committed suicide, and who frankly came out and stated where he was convinced the guilt lay (Below) Official diagram of the murder flat — Apt. 65 — which shows the furniture in the death room (marked Chamber No. 1) just as it was found by Detective Winterhalter immediately follow- ing the slaying. By this diagram the reader may follow the details of the crime as described in the story i N the kitchen was an unpacked hamper of kitchen utensils; stand- ing in a corner and on the table were two washed cups and saucers. Bags of oranges and apples, unopened, were on top of the ice-box. By the time the various officials arrived, the pair had finished their examination and had done a mighty good job at it. They had over- looked one clue, but then, so did the experienced men from the Homicide Bureau. It was an im- portant clue, on the bureau in the murder room, almost as impor- tant as the weapon itself; and it remained there

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The Murder in Apartment 65 31 gaged in caring for Mrs. Maye wnen the new arrivals entered the hall. Almost on their heels came Captain Haupt, De- tective Paul A. Szermer and Deputy Insj>ector Duane, of the Bronx Detective Bureau; I\*tective Donovan and his liartner, White, who had been picked up on a phoned order from Police Headquarters on a certain section of St. Ann’s Avenue where they had been “on a plant.** All at once the death chamber buzzed with activity. The ambulance surgeon examined the lx>dy of the man on the bed and pronounced that death had resulted from gunshot wttinds, and then carried Mrs. Maye away to Fordh;ti 1 Hospital. Captain Haupt dispatched a uniformed officer to accompany them with orders to notify the station- house* and the District Attorney as soon as she was strong enough to be questioned. Deputy Inspector Duane com- mended Winterhalter and Smith for the thoroughness and celerity with w hich they had searched the apartment. Referring to the application for a permit to carry a gun, Detective Szermer said that Mrs. Maye had called at the station-house in reference to obtaining a permit, but the form on which it was printed had been an old one and not acceptable. standing near the apparently dead woman, awaiting them. Schatzberg, Mrs. l^ing, the physician and all tenants who lived near the death apartment were questioned as to whether or not they had heard any pistol shots. All declared that they had not. After another thorough search was made of the Maye apartment, a uniformed officer was left in sole charge, with orders to notify the authorities if anyone sought admittance. He was instructed to obtain such a person’s name and ad- dress, and under no conditions was he to permit anyone to enter. Nothing was to be disturbed in the apartment. '^lATHY did she want a permit?** the District Attorney asked him. “She said she had been threatened by the friends ot three men she had charged with robbing her apartment,” Szermer answered. “Detective Snaeble handled the case. The charge, I believe, was robbery and criminal assault.*’ Mrs. Maliel I.ang, a tenant in the house, was then inter- viewed. She was an alert, intelligent young woman, and her statement was concise and comprehensive. She had returned to her apartment around midnight, she said, after seeing her mother-in-law* to the subway. A minute or two after entering her apartment she had been startled by screams issuing from the outer hall. Cautiously, she had opened the door and peered out. She saw the Ixidy of the French girl, who lived opposite her, lying ap|>arently dead on the corridor thxir, her feet stretched toward the stairway and her head near the elevator door- si 11. Rushing to her bedroom window, Mrs. I*ang had called for help. Ralph Schatzberg responded, as did a physician, who had lieen sum- moned by some- one he believed to lie a neighbor. Together, the two men went up in the elevator and found Mrs. Lang (Right) In photo posed for this maga- zine, Chief Assistant District Attorney Adlennan, who gave this story to TRUE Detective Mys- teries. is shown pointing out, on the waxen effigy which he had made of Devolo, the exact spot where the thin i bullet crashed into the brain of the unfortunate murder victim (Above) Photo shows Marlyse Maye, on trial for her life, being carried from court by Sheriff Michael Dwyer, to a waiting taxi, following a court grilling pOR thirty-six hours Mrs. Maye remained in a semi- * conscious, delirious condition. She alternated between states of coma and wild delirium, exhibiting the greatest terror of anyone who approached her, scratching at- tendants and screaming for help. It took four or five nurses to hold her w hile the doctor dressed the gunshot wound that had torn through her lung and liarely missed her heart. No» once in her maddest ravings , however , did she admit doing the shooting! The impression made by her inco- herent mutterings and piercing shrieks was that Andy had shot her and killed himself. And the autopsy showed that Andy could not have shot himself, for Doctor Kennard, who has performed more than 3,000 autopsies, reported finding seven gun- shot wounds, any one of four of which would have caused instantaneous death. The first fatal bullet entered one inch to the left of the midline of the dead man’s skull, passing almost hori- zontally backward through the ( Continued on page 66)

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WHO Killed Here a dark, shuffling figure pads silently into the tragic gloom hang- ing over “Sunshine Mabel's" horri- ble death. Who is that dark stranger who flees like a sinister shadow from the ghastly scene? Is he the ijihu- man wretch who committed the deed? By Donald L. Marshall Chief of Police, Oakland, California As told to Kacy Ward The frightful torture trap into which 15-year-old “Sunshine Mabel” Mayer (M) was dragged — there to be slain in a manner that made hardened detectives turn pale when they saw her battered remains— should make all parents guard their children the more. Mabel Mayer was a girl of open, innocent character and spotless reputation yet some evil fiend trailed her path that fateful night of her death. (Below) The grief -stricken parents of “Sunshine Mabel," Mr. and Mrs. John Mayer, when they learned of their daughter's terrible fate ■■■■■■■■■ IT was early on Sunday morning, July 3rd, 1927, that the murder which sent a shiver of horror over the entire western Coast was uncovered in Oakland, California. Discussing plans for the day and laughing after a hearty breakfast, C. M. Wilcox and L. C. Hall, both of 9229 Olive Street, came at 7:15 that morning to work on a garage they were building at the rear of a vacant house at 1738 Kighty- Sixth Avenue. Unaware of the gruesome sight that was to greet them, they turned the rear corner of the empty house and almost 32 stepped upon the battered and torn, blood -drenched body of Mabel Mayer, fifteen-year-old schoolgirl. Ambushed as she made her way up the dark street, within two blocks of her home at 2008 Eighty-Sixth Avenue, Mabel Mayer a few hours before had walked into a torture trap ex- ceeding in brutality anything in Oakland criminal annals. When her body was found lying crumpled in a brown- tinged flower-bed, the girl still had one twisted and broken arm raised as though to ward off the fiendish blows that tore and crushed her features until they were almost unrecogniz-

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“SUNSHINE MABEL”? Crowd of angry residents of Oakland, and neighbors, gathered in the “murder yard** to look at the mutilated remains of “Sunshine Mabel” Mayer a few hours after her body was found able under their coating of blood. Additional horror was added to the crime by the ap|>arent lack of suf- ficient motive for the killing. Seem- ingly without an enemy in the world, Mabel was known as the “Sunshine Girl” because of her sunny smile and care-free disposition. Pale and shaken by their unex- pected meeting with evidence of a murderer’s crime, Wilcox and Hall staggered back to the street and, after pulling themselves together, telephoned to the police. Their description of the terrible crime, coming in throbbing words over the telephone to the Central police station desk sergeant, brought quick action on the part of the police. Led by Captain B. A. Wallman, police rushed to the scene of the murder and took charge of the situation. One glance at the mangled body was enough to convince Wallman that the Chief should personally direct the case. Over the phone he gave a graphic description of the tortured body. He was left in direct charge of the investigation while (Left) William Mayer, the 18-year-old brother of Mabel Mayer, who was to have met his sister at the train which she missed plans for an immediate drag-net were hastily made at Headquarters to capture the fiend who had committed the crime. A watch was set at every railroad station and automobile route leading out of town. Clues at first apj>eared to be plenti- ful. Wallman pieced these together until we were equipped with a vivid impression of the torture trap that had been sprung on the “Sunshine Girl.” Here is how* we reconstructed the crime: With eyes dilated, nerves twitching and body tensed, the murderer had crouched in the shadow of the vacant house while his intended victim walked rapidly up the street toward her doom. As she |>assed him, he sprang at her, (>erhaps with lips drawn tight in a snarl, an ugly laugh in his throat. Unmind- ful of her struggles in his frenzy, he had carried or pulled her to the rear of the house. Blood marked the battle that had waged while she fought a losing fight for her life. First sign of the gruesome struggle was her little, twisted hat, thrown from her head when her assailant carried her up .!«

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34 True Detective Mysteries the driveway from the street. Apparently escaping the clutches of her tormentor as they reached the yard, Mabel fought her way to the door of the vacant house. Bloody prints of her hammering fists on the back door were clear, offering mute testimony of her efforts to obtain aid or escape. With her wolflike attacker at her heels, she turned desper- ately away from the door and raced for a three-foot fence which separated the yard from the one adjoining. What followed, Wallman easily pointed out. Seizing a timber from the unfinished garage, her murderer had felled her with a single blow over the head. She was dragged through the flower and grass grown yard clear of the fence, ■MnmH wflMRSt {Above) Harry Cald- well, Chief of the Identifi- cation Bureau, Oakland Police Deportment, is shown examining the timbers which were used by the “dark stranger" in clubbing "Sunshine Mabfel’ ’ to death. {Ri&ht) With his guilty hands stained crimson with the blood of his victim, the murderer of "Sunshine Mabel" in his mad struggle with the girl, grabbed the comer of the white empty house alongside which the deed was committed. This police photograph is a close-up of that hand -print and beaten to death with nail-studded boards. The blood- stained timl>ers, still damp and sticky, were found beside her body. News of the tragedy quickly spread through the neighbor- hood. Grim-faced men and horrified women crowded the yard. Outspoken threats and a determination for vengeance swept the crowd into a near-frenzy. Police were kept busy keeping them from trampling on valuable clues. Finger-i>rint experts and photographers were sent hurrying to the scene. A neat little green purse had been discovered by Wallman near the body, and was believed to contain the name of the murdered girl and perhaps her address. As soon as finger- print experts and camera men had finished their preliminary work, the purse was opened. We then learned, for the first time, the identity of the murdered girl — that she was Mabel Mayer, and that she lived at 2008 Eighty-Sixth Avenue. Fate sounded a grim note when we communicated with the Mayer home. We learned that the girl had visited her uncle, Christian Mayer, living at 2417 Sacramento Street, Berkeley (a neighboring city), the night before, and that her father and brother had gone that fateful morning to bring her home, believing she had stayed at her uncle’s home all night. Finally, her father, John Mayer, and her eighteen-year-old brother, William, were located at the home of Christian Mayer in Berkeley and requested to come immediately to the scene of the crime. When they arrived, both were overcome with grief at the fate of the “Sunshine Girl,” who was so close to their hearts. They could offer no reason for the stroke of death that had removed her forever from their happy home. Questioned by police, they declared that Mabel had left home at 10 o’clock Saturday morning to visit her dentist. Staying in down- town Oakland during the morning, they said, she had taken a music lesson in the forenoon and then joined her uncle in the afternoon, going to his home in Berke- ley for dinner, and, as they had thought, staying there all night. After a request to report later at Police Headquarters, the father and son were per- mitted to go to their home to recover from the shock. AS a first step to ascertain the ** identity of the fiendish mur- derer, evidence picked up in the weed-grown yard where the girl’s body was discovered was scruti- nized under the microscope. The first result of this was the announcement by Captain Wall- man that the “wolf-murderer” was right-handed and swung his bludgeon with that hand. Pre- dictions were made that the fiend would be captured within a few hours. More footprints and bloody finger smudges found on the ground and upon the white sides of the house strengthened this belief. Then came the first jolt. Under close examination, the finger smudges failed to reveal a single clear print. Footprint measurements availed us nothing. Hope rose again when Harry Caldwell, police finger-print ex- pert, found a bloody print, not that of the victim, on the little green purse carried by the Mayer girl at the time she was struck down; and smears on the blood-clouded 2x4 scantling found near her tortured body. The finger-print on the purse was, in fact, to prove the most valuable of all the clues dis- covered, when the evidence was sifted later on. Her brother and father appeared at Police Headquarters, and slowly the movements of Mabel during the previous day and night were traced and pieced together. Our first step was setting as nearly as possible the time of the wolflike murder. The wrist watch worn by the girl stopped at six minutes after 10 o’clock ( Continued on page V2)

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My Battle with Coffey- Infamous Butcher of Women Sheriff Wright, shrewd police officer, says that William N. Coffey came near to being the so-called “master-mind” among criminals. Suave, imperturbable, this notorious character literally “played a game with death”— and just how he did it is a story that you will long remember By Lyall Wright Sheriff of Juneau County, Wisconsin As told to A. M. Thompson WHEN my tele- pho ne rang that bleak, cold day in January . 1927, 1 had no presentiment that its lively 41 br-r-ing ,f was ushering into my life the most be- wildering murder case 1 had ever heard of or read about. The wild- est dream of a poppy addict could conjure up nothing so brutal, ghastly and baffling. Now and then crimes occur in real life that at first glance are so baffling, they are immediately cred i ted to a master- mind. When solved, * however, they are usually found to be quite ordinary', and to have been committed by a criminal below' the average in intelligence. In my humble opinion, the murderer in the case ushered in by my jangling telephone that morning comes as close to being a master-mind as one will find in many a day. He out- smarted the District Attorneys of five different counties in four States, and beat them to a standstill at their own game — the Law. While he was apparently playing into their hands ai:d they were congratulating themselves on the ease with which they were building up an iron-clad case against him, he was, in reality, putting himself beyond conviction. With uncanny foresight he divined what move they would make next, and immediately made preparations to frustrate it. T^HE uncertainty that haunted these attorneys will be * better understood when I say that two of them held murder warrants against this man but were hesitant about serving them for fear he would wxiggle out through 9ome loophole and escape the full punishment his crime deserved! Contradictory as this may sound, it was characteristic of the ob>tacles encountered throughout the case. In this car Coffey, the 4 ‘woman- murderer," took his trusting bride, Mrs. Hattie Hales Coffey, on a honeymoon trip- and a terrible trip it was, ending in a red orgy that shocks the human mind to think of To return to the telephone call — it w’as a long- distance call, and the voice on the other end of the wire was that of Ernest Rosier of Elroy, Wisconsin, a friend of mine. 44 1 want to see you on a very important matter this afternoon, Lyall, so if you’re not too busy 1*11 drive up.” “Til be here all afternoon,” I re- plied. A few hours later he stepped into my office in Mauston, county- seat of Juneau County. WHAT'S ”on your mind?” I queried, as I motioned him to a chair. 44 1 wish I could tell you plainly enough so you won’t think I'm all worked up about nothing. It may not sound like much to you, but it is very serious to us. First, this must be kept out of the newspapers, and any investigation must be hushed up. If it isn’t, we will be doing a lot of harm to a man who has suffered enough as it is.” “Who is he?” “Mr. Coffey, a wealthy philanthropist from Detroit who recently married my sister-in-law.” “All right! Go ahead with your story.” “I’ll give you the details from the wry beginning. My wife’s sister, Mrs. Hattie Hales, is the widow' of a former engineer on the Chicago & Northwestern Railway. When he died, he left her five or six thousand, which she carefully invested. After his death she went to I Crosse, Wisconsin, and got a job as information clerk in the Doerflinger Depart- ment Store. She is fifty-two years old, with a kind, motherly disposition that just draws everyone to her. She has been a devout Christian all her life, and conceals her troubles and heartaches so well that everybody envies her because her life seems so calm and serene. 35 4

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36 True Detective Mysteries “She became acquainted with Mr. Coffey while in La Crosse. Mr. Coffey, although wealthy, was engaged in raising funds for a well-known welfare association. This social work is just a hobby with him, lx*cause he speaks from pulpits and addresses various civic bodies with no thought of compensation. “He was captivated by the quaint, motherly charm of Hattie, so, after a rather whirlwind courtship, they quietly eloped to Winona, Minnesota, and were married about three months ago, on Septeml»er fifteenth, nineteen-twenty-six. Everyone wished them well and considered it an ideal mating — kind, motherly Mrs. Hales and the genial, wealthy Mr. Coffey, both with but one thought, uplifting and doing good for others. “'T'HEY started out on their honeymoon in Mr. Coffey’s * car, and drove to Rockford, Illinois, to visit Mrs. Anna Holdridge, Hattie’s sister, and Mrs. Sarah Sherman, Hattie’s mother. The other relatives around Rockford vied with each other in giving parties in honor of the newly-weds, and everyone congratulated Hattie on her good choice. The “It was a dumb animal — a dog — that first ‘suspect- ed* Coffey,’* said Sheriff Lyall Wright ( shown at left) and he added: “I have a lot of faith in that strange sense that dogs have, and for a very good reason*’ wealthy Mr. Coffey fascinated everyone with his plain, un- assuming ways — that is, everyone but Mrs. Holdridge’s pet bulldog! They all laughed about that, because Mr. Coffey tried his best to make friends with the dog during the tw’o weeks they were there, without success. “Then Mr. Coffey received some mail and announced that he would have to leave for Dubuque, Iowa, on business at once. After they had gone, Hattie wrote home frequently, and everyf letter just bubbled over with joy. She was deeply in love and happy with her new husband. In one letter she wrote from Dubuque, she said they were going to attend a banquet in Chicago given in their honor by felk>w social workers of Mr. Coffey’s. “Now’, here is the mysterious part — the j>art that is unbe- lievable and seemingly impossible to anyone w ho know s Hattie. “While at that banquet in Chicago, Mr. Coffey introduced to her a friend named Mr. St. Claire, and Hattie fell madly in love with him! Now, can you imagine a woman who has been a God-fearing church-goer for almost fifty years, and who has long since passed the emotional stage, making such an about-face? “Even the tone of her letters changed after she met this St. Claire! Formerly a kind, sensible, elderly woman, she suddenly begins to write silly, emotional trash that would do justice to the wildest of flappers. In each succeeding letter her infatuation for this Mr. St. Claire becomes more apparent, until finally, in one shocking letter, she tells of her intention to elope with him. “She asks her family to forgive and forget about her as quickly as they can, because she never intends to see them again after her disgrace. She declares that her love for this Mr. St. Claire has overwhelmed her so she can’t do otherwise. “It was a terrible blow to Mr. Coffey when he learned that his best friend had betrayed him, and that the wife he loved so much and upon w’hom he had lavished everything he owned should prove so faithless. I don’t believe he sus- pected a thing until he found her gone. We received a very’ touching letter from him in which he tried to shield Hattie by saying he probably wasn’t as attentive as he might have been and she, bein& taken among strangers, was lonely and hungering for company. He said he was going into seclusion ’until some of the pain in his heart was eased.’ Then he would visit them, but in the meantime he hoped they wouldn’t condemn her too harshly, because he felt himself as much at fault as Hattie. “Nowr, Lyall, we don’t like to believe this of Hattie, but in the face of the letters received from her, we have to. Here, read these letters from her and see for yourself!” Before I had time to glance at the letters, he burst out bitterly: “I’ll tell you, Lyall, this St. Claire has either hypnotized her or has her doped in some manner. Otherwise she would never do what she has done!” When he had finished, I looked at the letters in my hand. One was dated October 27th, 1926, and the other four days later. Both were postmarked Asheville, North Carolina. They were typewritten and signed in her handwriting, in ink. The letters follow word for word exactly as received by Hattie’s relatives in Rockford. It will be interesting for the reader to note what emotion they arouse now, and w'hen this story is concluded, to read them again and note the w’holly different emotion a second reading calls forth. It will surprise many, I’m sure. Asheville, N. C., 10-27th-26. Dear Mother Lillibridge and entire family: We arrived in Asheville at four o’clock this after- noon, and immediately Billy[so she refers to Coffey] got busy and found a typewriter. On arriving at Chicago from Milwaukee we were met by Mr. Turner and his most charming little wife. They insisted that we go out to dinner with them, as it would be a long time before the banquet and reception, so we went. About all they talked about, however, was our Detroit home and the great pleasure they took in furnishing it and, of course, w’ould we sell? Billy asked me if I would sell. I answered, yes, if we can get our price for it. Then we asked for a few moments private conversation, which they most politely granted us. We retired to a private little room and figured up what the place cost Billy, which amounted to $40,000, so we decided to ask $50,000, and did so. Without saying a word to the contrary, Mr. Turner took out his check- book and wrote a check to Billy for $5,000. Billy gave him a receipt for it and endorsed it, and handed it to me, saying, “The house money is yours, Dear.” At nine o’clock we all went to the banquet and reception. We w’ere the guests of honor. They served a five course chicken dinner, negro waiters and all, to 152. Billy was called on for a talk. If I do say it myself, it w s the best talk I ever heard. He is eloquent. He simply rought the house down» I was so proud of him I could almost burst. talk I ever heard. He is eloquent After it was all over, every person there came to me and complimented my husband. Mr. St. Claire, a dear friend of Billy’s, introduced me to everybody. He simply stole me from Billy. He juft would not leave me a second. He begged me to write to him. After the reception, Mr. and Mrs. Turner, Billy and myself with Mr. St. Claire boarded a train for Detroit. Before 6 o’clock the next afternoon the house transaction was closed and I had a bank draft for $45,000 more. Again Billy and I boarded the train for Chicago.

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My Battle with Coffey — Infamous Butcher of Women 37 While Billy was busy with some affairs, Mr. St. Claire took me for a ride, during which time I ex- pressed a suitcase with a few* things to you. Mr. St. Claire did not re- turn me to Billy until Billy Boy be- came very much alarmed, but I guess Billy Boy will have to get used to that. The treasure box of which Billy spoke contains the most wonderful and most beautiful gems I ever ?aw. I wear a necklace of pearls, genuine pearls and emer- alds, a chain of charming beauty. My bracelet was yellow gold set with diamonds. My new gray wig looked well with a comb — a half moon set with pure pearls and a diamond in the center. Billy said in a low w’his- per, “The one I sleep with is a dream girl.” Billy spent $800.00 on me just for clothes. My reception dress was of expensive ma- terial modishly made up with mod- estly low neck and — as Billy called it — reasonable sleeves. Mr. St. Claire called me a fairy queen. I have never known that man's equal. He is the most per- sistent and most kindly and most handsome man I ever met. While Billy doesn’t know' it, I have looked for him every min- ute since we ar- rived in Asheville I know he will come. I am going to do Billy’s typing for him and in that w’ay work together. Our trip down was most interesting, wonderful road, and we had but few miles of dirt road all the way. Coming through the mountains was a rare treat for me, the scenery beautiful. At Cumberland Gap we visited the old rebellion battle hills and went into the old trenches which are still there. We also visited the caves where Billy’s father slept. We did not return to Rockford simply because Mr. St. Claire told me that weather reports predicted heavy rains and storms for the South, and we wanted to get through the mountains before the rains. We were coni(>elled to spend two days camping on the beautiful French Broad River as it was. on account of the heavy rains. We did not get wfet or suffer a bit. I love to travel. We surely will do a lot of it. Be ready for us next summer. Write us lock box 1452, Asheville, N. C. Love to all and Jack. Mrs. W’m. N. Coffey. The other letter, written four days later, follows: Asheville, N. C., 10-31 st-26 Dear Mother Lillihridge and Family: This is Sunday morning and warm and lovely. I am in our room and thinking of you. Billy asked me to go to Church with him, as he is occupying the pulpit today, but I declined for once. Mr. St. Claire came Saturday morning while Billy was away for the day. He spent the whole day with me and brought me a box of the most wonderful hand- kerchiefs. I am ex- pecting him over now in a few mo- ments while Billy is in church. He is the most persistent and most thought- ful man I have ever known. When he threw’ his arms around me and kissed me, it was as if he had known me all my life. I love this man in a way in which I have never loved any other mortal. 1 think it is a woman’s privilege to take all the love she can get. I told Billy that, but he does not believe in free love, and that is why I do not tell him how Mr. St. Claire loves me. Billy does not know he is in town. When 1 married Billy I promised 1 would be true to him and his love, but since' meeting this other man I simply cannot keep my pledge. Billy has given me al- most everything he had in this world. All those bonds, all the money from the Detroit home, all the jewels ex- cept a few small diamonds, and all the love of his heart. He has never given me a cross word, is kind, loving and very ambitious, but somehow I do not love him like 1 love this new and won- derful Chicago man. What is a woman to do under such circumstances? I am going to try and persuade Mr. St. Claire to go away before Billy finds out he is here. Billy and 1 are leaving for the interior of the Mountains tomorrow, to be gone perhaps two or three weeks. He is working faithfully on his bpoks, but somehow’ I can’t get in- terested in them. Write us here at Asheville as we do not know’ what our next mail address will be. Please do not let Jerry or your Betty see this letter. Hattie. Mrs. Wm. N. Coffey. “XiTHAT do you think of it?” asked Krnest, as I laid the * " letters on my desk. “Well ... I don’t think much of this St. Claire or your sister-in-law! Still, one can never tell what people will do when they’re in love. Mr. Coffey seems to be a pretty white sort of fellow’, and this must have hit him hard. Just a tough break for him, I’ll say!’’ “That’s just the w'ay w’e feel about it, and we all feel sorry' for Mr. Coffey. But what we can’t understand is Hattie's behavior. It’s so unejqiected and so unlike her. Why, Lyall, if my mother or any ( Continued on Page 73; A character study of William N. Coffey, thought by his friends to be a “benevo- lent philanthropist,’’ but who in reality was a cold-blooded murderer, pos- sessing a ruthless cruelty almost past belief. Study his face, for it is the face of a man who showed the shrewdest cunning coupled with the crudest super- stition possible to imagine and this is all powerfully depicted as this story develops to its astounding and bloody climax

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MEXICO without revolutions and political turmoil wouldn’t be Mexico, to the avid American news- paper reader. It is, of course, well known that the colorful republic below the Rio Gran^p has been a land of frequent internal upheavals and unrest since the iron hand of the great dictator, Porfirio Diaz, was withdrawn from the helm of the ship of state, that he had guided so hrmly for a period of more than a quarter of a century. 38 HOW WE Word had come through secret channels that picked detectives were wanted quickly for a delicate qnc[ important^ mission! Captain O’Brien was selected — he chose three of his best men — they swiftly mapped their plans— and tjie big game was on! By Thomas F. O’Brien Chief Investigator, Los Angeles District Attorney’s Office As told to D. L. Michel During the last twenty years, several more or less sanguinary revolutions have been staged “below the border,” sometimes under the leadership of high-minded patriots, with the welfare of the Mexican people sincerely at heart; at other times headed by soldiers of fortune, eager only for ‘the power, pomp and prestige of the nation's highest executive office. However, it is not so generally known that three years ago a distinguished Mexican general, while a refugee in the United States, conceived a plot to place himself in the presidential chair — a plot worked out with admirable patience, thoroughness and skilful strategy, glow ing w ith every promise of brilliant success. . . . And then, unknown to the conspirators, the United States Department of Justice stretched forth an ingeniously dis- guised and far-reaching hand. . . . I and three other men who worked with me were fingers in this gigantic hand, so to speak;. and our adventures in narrowly averting a revolution in our sister- republic form one of the most glamorous memories of my detective career. I ATE on the afternoon of August 14th, 1926. I was called *** to the office of Chief of Detectives H. H. Cline, in Los Angeles, and briefly ordered to select three of my best men and report for duty early on the following morning. At that time I was a captain of detectives on the Los Angeles detective force. “Be prepared for anything" the Chief concluded; “also, to remain On this assignment as many days as may be neces- sary. I’m lending you and your men to the Federals.” The Chief’s last words and his grave face more than hinted at some big case of international scope, and I felt a thrill of anticipation! In w hat I hoped was a casual, offhand manner, I asked: “Can you give me any idea as to the nature of this as- signment, so that I may instruct my men properly?”

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SMASHED the PLOT to OVERTHROW MEXICO “Not now.” The Chief’s smile show- ed that he had not been deceived by my affectation of nonchalance. “Only don’t look like de- tectives! And wear old clothes. Cap- tain Hopkins of the Department of Jus- tice will meet you here to-morrow and give you instruc- tions.’* Eight o’clock on the morning of the 15th found me and my chosen aides in the Detec tive Bureau, ready for orders and ^etion. Those with me were Detective Lieuten- ants F. T. Hawtrey» L. L. Curtis and B. F. Cox. All wore clothes of a past season and much in need of pressing. None of us had shaved. Shortly after- ward, Captain Hop- kins, of the Department of Justice, came in and at once sought me out for a private conference. Tom/ a t administration of President Calles. Chief Military Com- mander of the State of Jalisco, had at that time allied himself with De La Huerta in an at- tempt to overthrow the Calles govern- ment. Estrada was a brilliant officer, idol of his army of 15,000 men, all en- listed in support of De I-a Huerta. Hc he began with- out preamble, “this job I’ve got for you calls for nerve, and plenty of it! I want you to understand, and to explain to the men you’ve picked for this as- signment, that it may be the last any of you’ll ever undertake. Get me?” I knew Hopkins well enough to realize that he would not exaggerate the dangers involved in the job “I think we’ll string along,” I assured him, with- out hesitation. “ Any as- signment may be our last, you know. . . . What's it all about?” Briefly he explained the situation. 1 gaped as I listened. It involved nothing less than a far-flung plan to overthrow the existing Mexican Government! It appeared that General Enrique Estrada, Secretary of War under President Obregon, and in 1923, under the ( Top) On the extreme left is Senor Frank La Madrid, acting in behalf of Senor Rodriguez, Governor of Lower California, making presenta- tion of handsomely inscribed gold watches to (toft to right) Detec- tives F. T. Hawtrey, L. L. Curtis, Captain O’Brien, and Detective B. F. Cox for “services rendered. ” Of what important nature these services were, this story tells. (Above) Spot from where the gun- laden trucks of the conspirators started on their eventful trip toward Tecate, on the Mexican border OWEVER, the De La Huerta forces were finally defeated and scat- tered. General Es- trada succeeded in evading capture — and the firing squad — and fled to the United States. He had taken up his residence in I>os Angeles. It was not to be expected that the erstwhile military leader had forever renounced his high ambitions, and during the entire two years of his sojourn in southern California, the unclosing eye of the United States Depart- ment of Justice had been upon him and his friends. In July, 1926, reports turned in by Federal operatives disclosed that a bold plan to overthrow the existing government of the southern republic was about to be carried out, under General Es- trada’s leadership. For the last several months, many well-known Mexican military com- manders, refugees from Mexico after the failure of the De l^a Huerta uprising, had rallied in Los Angeles and were in more or less open com- munication with their new leader, General Estrada. Most important of all. as proof that the time had been adjudged ripe to set off the spark of revolution, was discovery of the fact that an order for 400 rifles and 1 50,000 rounds of ammunition had been placed in New York, ostensibly by the 39

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40 ? rue Detective' Mysteries Parker Hardware Com- pany, of San Diego, an American business firm. The consignment had l**en shipped, not to San Diego direct, but via the Panama Canal toSan Pedro Harlior, by way of throwing the Department of Justice off the trail. This clever move, how- ever, failed of its purf>ose. The shipment of arms and ammunition was covered by Federal agents from the at San Pedro until placed Angeles warehouse. iRi&h t ) By re- ferring to this map the reader can fol- low the devious trail of the con- spirators from Los Angeles south along the Pacific coast line to their points of capture at the spot mark- ed by a cross, just beyond La Mesa, and at Engineer’s Spring a * time of its landing on the docks in teni|>orary storage in a Los T^HIS place had been kept under constant surveillance during the ensuing ten days. On August loth, the con- signment was loaded on two trucks, under the persona! direction of E. A. Parker, representing the San Diego hard- ware firm, as consignee. And then, from the San Diego o|K*ratives, came information that General Estrada and his staff were to leave Los Angeles and other scattered points, on or al>out August 15th, to meet at a place called Engineer’s Spring, alxnjt half-way l>etween San Diego and the Imperial Valley, a few miles north of the international line. From Engineer’s Spring an old dirt road leads into Mexico. There some hundreds of potential Mexican soldiers, in the guise of peons, or laborers, would l»e awaiting the arms and ammunition, which were to arrive on two trucks, after Passing through San Diego, their legal point of destination. General Estrada planned to sweep down upon Tia Juana and Mexicali in Mexico, with his newly armed forces- The capture of these two important border towns would cause all Lower California to rally to his standard, more especially when his little army would be augmented by several hundred more “peons” then in the Imperial Valley and under secret orders to join the revolutionary move- ment upon a given signal. The fall of Lower California was to Ik* followed by an uprising throughout the entire republic, fomented by Estrada supporters — all intended to lead to General Estrada’s oc- cupancy of the presidential chair in the City of Mexico, and rewards in the form of government posts and other emolu- ments to his loyal friends and faithful followers. 44 A PRETTY neat plot, at that!” 1 commented, as ** Captain Hopkins finished. ‘‘Isn’t it, though?” he agreed, with grim humor. “How- ever, the Neutrality Act forbids the hatching of any plots, neat, pretty or otherwise, under Lncle Sam’s wing!” I nodded, by way of indicating prior knowledge of that salient fact. “The trucks start for San Diego to-day,” Hopkins con- tinued. “Now. we can’t knock anybody over until we’ve got positive proof that they’ve violated the neutrality laws — and that won t In* till this shipment of war paraphernalia has passed its authorized destination, according to the mani- fest— that point l>eing San Diego. 44 Your job is to tail the two trucks until they've passed Sun Diego and are ready to cross the border. Can you do it?” “What, tail ’em? Let ’em try and lose us!” I Right ) This photograph shows the road taken by the con- spirators after leaving Oceanside. (Above) It was across this field that Captain O’Brien quickly sent his men after rabbits when the “General’’ pulled a fast one on his trailers by suddenly doubling back on them!

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How We Smashed the Plot to Overthrow Mexico 41 ESCONDIDO mesa SPRING c.K^ O OEAN d — but the main concern is that they don’t find you. Once they do, it’ll be easy enough to lose you. They’re playing for high stakes. If they suspect they’re being followed, they might draw you off into some canyon and shoot it out. On the other hand, they might simply deliver the cargo to the hardware concern in San Diego. Then there’ll be more weeks or months of watchful waiting before they make another move. We’ve got to nab ’em now , in art overt act . Savvy?” “I do,” I answered crisply. “When and where do we start?” “Be at Ducoinmon and Alameda Streets at four this afterin *011, in a private car — an old touring, if possible; anything but a police car. The arms trucks are going to be convoyed by two passenger cars, one leading, the other following. You’ll see ’em go by. I’ll be around with some of my men, but we won’t pay any attention to the trucks or to you. We’ll follow you later. Your job is to keep the trucks in sight without being discovered. That’s all, now !” persevering reporters were still upon our trail. I finally pulled up on a quiet side street, and there for the first time explained to the officers with me the assignment that had l>een given us. “This is a Federal case,” I finished, after plainly stating the hazards involved. “It’s not in the ordinary run of police work and it’s outside our jurisdiction. If any of you, for any reason, feel that you’re not justified in taking this chance, you have the right to go back, without being subject to criticism.” The idea of “going back” was received with grins of derision by my three chosen aides. Without further parley, I drove to the vicinity of Ducommon and Alameda Streets, in the wholesale district. parked on a side street, some fifty yards off the thoroughfare leading out of Los Angeles onto the highway to San Diego. From this point of vantage, we could see the two arms- laden trucks on the street, near the warehouse where they had been stored. (Because of possible unjust reflection being cast upon the proprietors of this warehouse, we are with- holding the name of same, as we believe they were entirely innocent of any wrong-doing whatsoever. Ed.) At the wheel of each truck sat a Mexican (Continued on page Sy) Photos on this and preceding page taken for this magazine show the nature of the country on the line of route taken by the revolutionists. A handy hide- away (left) in case of battle. (Above) One of the “rising ground” points of vantage made use of by the ‘‘General” fy RING the morning we loaded our equipment and pro- ^ visions, consisting of 30-30 rifles, sawed-off shotguns, a Thompson machine gun, a one-gallon water-bottle, binoculars and enough food to last tw'o days, into a Buick master-six touring-car, bearing false license plates. In the meanwhile, 1 had not given Haw trey, Cox and Curtis the slightest inkling regarding the nature of our detail. Our unusual preparations had, of course, attracted the attention of a half-dozen police reporters, who, to my great amusement, buzzed about my helpless aides like so many hornets, lagging for just the “least bit of low-down” on the business in hand, swearing the usual hearty but meaning- less oaths to keep all information secret until given official permission to turn it in to their papers! About 2:30 P.M. we succeeded in giving the news-hounds the slip, and drove away from the station, circling about the streets for some twenty minutes to make certain no

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The Astonishing FATE What was in the mind of Doctor Dapper that caused him to ask his father to come along with him in his car when he answered the night call of the mysterious stranger? Could it have been he knew the tragic fate that awaited him ? By William A. White City Editor of the Pittsburgh Press bedside of a woman who, he supposed, was ill and dying. Henry Dapper, stout, robust man with muscles of iron, a brewer for years, past fifty but still powerful and active, sat in the rear seat of the sedan. It wasn't customary for him to make night trips with his doctor son. In fact, he had never made one before. But on this particular occasion — as if he had a premonition of im- pending evil— young Doctor Dapper had requested that his father accompany him on the journey. And as the voice of his son, strained with pain, cried out to him in the still of the night, and as the tall, angular stranger lea|>ed for the road, Henry* Dapper flung oi>en the rear door of the sedan and lea|>ed also. . . . i ■I “77wa is not the man/" says Henry Dapper (shown above ) father of Doctor Dapper, as he views a photograph of John Mickley, who said that he (Mickley ) had killod the Doctor. Detectives were immediately sent out to check up on this startling statement GET him . Dad — he shot me!” A silvery August moon cast its brilliant rays across a lonesome countryside and mingled with the beams of a great search-light that shone for miles to guide airplanes at night over Bettis Field, Pittsburgh’s air- mail port, as Doctor Harry* R. Dap|>ert rising young physician of Carrick, a Pittsburgh suburb, slumped in the seat l>ehind the wheel of his gray-green Nash sedan and cried out thus to his father. At the same moment the right front door of the sedan swung open and a tall, angular man leaped for the road. He had l>een seated beside the physician and had guided him on a trip to this isolated spot fourteen miles from the heart of Pittsburgh's down-town district — guided him on what the physician thought was an errand of mercy, to the UWRLIKR in the evening Doc- ^ tor Dapper had been work- ing in a small laboratory that he maintained adjoining his office in a combination apartment- office building wrhich he had built recently on Brownsville Road, not far from the main business section of Carrick. The physician was as dap|>er as his name. He wras a young, rather handsome chap, not tall, nor short, but rather of medium build, and his coal-black hair glistened in striking contrast to the immaculate white jacket he wore in his office. The night was warm — an ideal August night, in 1928 — and the hour was near 10. In the apartment which adjoined his office was his wife. Margaret, an attractive young woman who divided her love between the young physician and a three-year-old daughter. Jane Mrs. Dapper — Margaret Knglert before her marriage to Doctor Dapper a short time after he had completed his medical studies at Mercy Hospital, Pittsburgh — hummed a lullaby while the baby' slept, waiting for the hour when her husband would turn out the lights in the oflice and join her in the apartment. And as each time a note of his wife's lullaby was wafted to the ears of the young physician, working silently in his la!x)ratory, he might have been seen — by one waiting in tin* office — to smile, the smile of one who i6 at peace with th< 42

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of doctor Dapper world, and in love. For, to all appearances, Doctor Dap- per was devoted to his wife, his baby and his profession. Outside, on the walk, a man might have been seen pacing back and forth. His steps carried him first to one end of the building, then to the other, and each time he passed the lighted office, he peered anxiously in, as if waiting for a signal that might bid him enter. Presently a man and woman walked down the street and turned into the office. 'T'HE man was youthful in appearance, but perhaps near A forty. The woman was much older, not far from sixty. The man was plainly worried, and the woman seemed nerv- ous— even excited. Her escort gripped her arm as if fearful that she might escape him. Into the waiting-room the pair went, and took chairs opposite the door. They were mother and son, though it was only the mother who sought medical attention. “Man in there says his wife is dying/* Doctor Dapper (right) told his wife. Then he left with the mysterious stranger —on a rendezvous with death, himselt the victim! Here, in the moonlit night beside the Lebanon Church graveyard (at the spot to which man is pointing ) the death car slowed up stopped- a second’s interval, then the agonized cry from the dying Doctor Dapper’s lips, “ Get him. Dad he shot me /” And then, as if his mind had suddenly been made up, the pacing stranger on the street turned abruptly into the office. His hand on the office door, he seemed to hesitate, but only for the fraction of a second, and then boldly Hung open the door and entered. His only apparent effort to conceal his features was a side motion as he stepped into the lighted waiting-room, that gave the man and woman who had preceded him there only a scant profile view. Strangely enough, the man had timed his entry — perhaps by design, or perhaps it was fate — to the second that Doctor Dapper should step from his laboratory into the office. The Doctor glanced about the room — a glance that might have been intended to determine how many patients were there and who should be first to receive his attention. The stranger of the street did not wait for those who were first in the office to move. He headed straight for the Doctor and reached him midway in the room. There was a brief conversation — not loud enough to be heard by those who s;it only a few feet away. The physician’s brow wrinkled for a Hash, then he turned and headed back into his consul- tation room, l>eckpning the stranger to follow him. /~V\CK inside, the door was closed. To those outside came only muffled voices, too indistinct for under- standing. Of a sudden the door opened and the Doctor emerged, followed by the stranger, who hastily took a seat along the wall and near a small stand, turned so that his features were still partly hidden from the mother and son who sat across the room. As he sat, the stranger lighted a cigarette and 43

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44 True Detective Mysteries puffed contentedly. He seemed in no hurry, now, to leave. Doctor Dapper motioned the mother and son into the private room and dosed the door. A few minutes later the couple emerged, the woman ap- parently more composed and her nervousness evidently gone. Hut the man who held tightly to her arm still wore a worried expression as they passed out of the office and into the starlit night. Again the stranger and the physician stepped back into the private room, and again only muffled voices were heard. In a moment the Doctor emerged. His face was flushed and there was a trace of excitement in his actions as he step|)ed across the room and opened the door into his apart- ment. Mrs. Dapper’s smile greeted him as he entered the room. She believed the Doctor was calling it a day, and was happy in the thought that his company was to be hers for a time at least . \\ ives of busy doctors see little of their husbands. Besides, Mrs. Dapper was very much in love with the young physician who was the father of her baby. But her joy was short-lived. 44^ALL Howard” — (Howard ^ Trichler, a neighbor) — “right away and see if he will go with me on an emergency call into the country,” Doctor Dap- per told his wife. And then, to explain further, he added: 44Man in there says his wife is dying!” Mrs. Dapper asked no ques- tions. She called. Howard was not at home. Whom else might she call? “Call Dad — he’ll go,” the. Doctor said. “He’ll go,” Mrs. Dapper said, triumphantly, as she came back from the telephone. And then, as the shadow of a doubt crept over her, she added: 44 Be care- ful, dear — please!” The Doctor kissed his wife and returned to the office. The voice of Mrs. Dapj>er fol- lowed him. “Dad will be ready when you get there,” she called. In a few seconds the Doctor and the stranger were gone, and the hum of a motor outside told Mrs. Dapper that they were on their way. She didn't harbor the thought for a second that she luid seen and kissed her husband alive for the last time. And if Doctor Dapj>er, as he left the office and started for his father’s home on Clifton Boulevard, ‘also in Carrick, and just a few’ blocks away, had any thought that he might not come back alive, he did not betray it. A short distance from the office the young physician pulled into a gas station to refuel. It was not unusual for him to refuel at this hour of the night, and the station at- tendants paid him no more than passing attention. Nor did they notice the passenger in the front seat. The gray-green Nash glided away from the filling station and headed toward Henry Dapper’s home. The elder Dapper’s home was one of the old residences of Carrick, a mansionlike structure around which were all the evidences that it was occupied by persons of means. The landscaping was faultless, and huge shade trees surrounded the house and bordered a driveway that led to the garage in the rear. Doctor Dapper kept his car in his father’s spacious garage, and it was not unusual for him to drive it to the garage at this hour. To-night, however, he pulled up to the curb. Henry Dapper was vice-president of the Fort Pitt Brewing Company. He had been an official of the company for years. He did not look at all unlike the genial brewer generalh pictured by the cartoonist. There were an overabundance of chin and quite a roll of overhanging stomach. He wore a dark, soft hat, shaped like a fried egg. Dapjier, Senior, had prepared hurriedly for the trip with his doctor son. He was ready and waiting several minutes liefore the physician’s car pulled up to the curb. If the elder Dapper was in any way worried about the trip, he, like the Doctor, buried his emotions very well. But if he wasn’t anxious about the trip, there was one member of the family who was. It was Doctor Dapper’s sister, Mrs. M. F. Ben/. Ap- parently she, of all who knew of the trip, was uneasy. Was it . prescience — a woman’s intuition? As the father of Doctor Dapper started for the car, the voice of his daughter trailed him, and made him halt. “Oh, Dad,” she cried, 4 ‘you’d better put this in your pocket!” And she ran after him, holding out a revolver that had been in the Dapper household, unused, for a long time. Henry Dapper laughed as he took the gun. It wasn’t loaded, and had never been, to the best of his knowledge; but to allay any fears that his daughter had — country-road hold-ups at this season were numerous — he took the pistol and put it in his pocket. Whether Doctor Dapper and the stranger had l>een in con- versation en route from the office to the elder Dapper’s resi-. dence will probably always be a mystery. But there was no conversation as Henry Dapj>er stepped into the rear of the sedan and occu- pied the seat just behind his son, the stranger still occupying the front seat beside the Doctor. Mrs. Margaret Dapper, wife of the slain physician, as she appeared the morn- ing after the tragic death of her husband. Lower left is the pathetic little figure, Jane, the Doctor’s 3-year-old daughter, cry- ing for her Dad who won’t return THE car pulled away. Ap- * parently the physician knew where he was going — that is, in a general way. Out Browns- ville Road some distance he swung sharply left and into the l^ebanon Church road, which winds along for three or four miles to the McKeesport-Fit ts- burgh boulevard, not far distant from Bettis Field. Aside from the hum of the motor as the Nash, guided by the Doctor, moved along the moonlit road, there was no sound. Only once on the journey, the elder Dap|>er said later, did any of the trio speak, and then it was the stranger. “Not many doctors would go on a call away out in the country like this at this hour of the night,” he said. Doctor Dapper made no reply, and the car wended its way, on and on, until the stranger’s voice broke the silence. 44 We turn off at the next road,” he said. Doctor Dapper turned the car at the road indicated. A few hundred yards off the main road, the stranger spoke again. 44 It’s up there — we’ll have to walk,” he said, vaguely pointing to the right.

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The Astonishing Fate of Doctor Dapper 45 Not a hundred yards away was the old Lebanon Church, the history of which went far back into the days of the early settlers. And beside it, the whole sur- rounded by a stone wall, was the grave- yard w here rested some of the founders of the church. There was no emotion in the voice of the stranger as he called the halt to the journey. If his wife were dying and he was emotional at all, not the least sign betrayed his feelings. Apd if the thought of what he intended to do stirred any- thing within him, he likewise concealed this. He put his hand on the door as if ready to leave. Doctor Dapper stopped his car. He was the typical professional man, going about a task that to him was not unusual. He reached methodically for the parking brake. And then ! 14 /^ET him, Dad — he shot me /” came Doctor Dapper’s cry *** as he slumped in his seat. There had been no sound, no pistol report! Henry Dapper said, later, that he was positive alx>ut that. The stranger was out of the car as the elder Dapper leaped at him, crashing the glass of the rear door as he plunged.* The powerful hands of the brewer found the throat of the stranger and closed on it. Desperately the stranger The gray-green Nash (with close-up of license num- ber) in which Doctor Dap- per rode to his death, and which the mys- terious killer stole, after the murder, to make his get- away (Above) Henry Dapper (under arrow ) father of the slain physi- cian, lone witness of the tragedy, re- enacts the crime, detail by detail, in the presence of a group of the best homicide detectives of Pitts burgh. (Left) Doctor Dapper’s office desk and chair, exactly as he left it. What was the con- versation that took place here, behind closed doors, between the Doctor and the mysterious stranger, immediately foliowring which the Doctor, writh a flush of excitement on his face, left, never to return alive? sought to use his gun, but Henry Dap- per, powerful at ordinary times, was thrice powerful at this moment. The sight of his son, slumped in the front seat, the agonized sound of his voice as he cried: “ Get him , Dad V* maddened him to murder, as he struggled with the killer, grappling for the gun. A more ideal spot could not have been selected for a mur- der. The starlit and moonlit sky overhead was brilliant, but the shadows of overhanging trees cast an inky darkness over the spot where the men struggled. The rays of the Bettis Field beacon swept the scene again and again, but only for a fleeting second each time. And in this setting, two men fought viciously for their lives w hile a third, groaning in agony, was dying within their sight. rTy\l E elder Dapper’s powerful grip closed about the throat of his son’s assailant, but the stranger slowly and surely forced the pistol against the older man’s b<*ly. The grip of the one slowly shut off the wind of the other, but the killer, with the strength that re- f mained, finally V held his gun in a position that meant almost certain death to Henry Dapper. Click! The firing-pin crashed against the ignition cap in the shell. But there was no ex- plosion. The gun had failed, and Dapper was saved.

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46 True Detective Mysteries And in that second the greater strength of the older man told. Bodily he lifted the stranger into the air, and as a wrestler crashes his foe to the mat, so Henry Dapper crashed his foe to the ground, then flung his great bulk atop the other to resume the death liattle. The release of the grip on his throat gave the stranger new power. He fought with the viciousness of a man who felt that his doom was near. Again he battled to get the barrel of his revolver against the other’s body, and again he suc- ceeded, but at the moment that the hammer plunged to the firing-pin, the elder Dapper, with a gigantic wrench, pulled the arm that held the pistol away and forced it into the air. This time the gun did not fail. But the bullet that would probably have ended the elder Dapj>er’s struggles and sealed his lips forever, plunged off toward the sky, leaving with Henry Dapper only a seared thumb where the flame had burned. Again Dapper heard — or was conscious of — no pistol shot, in that second that he saw the flash of the bullet and felt the pain. It seemed for the moment that Doctor Dapper’s assailant was about to be taken alive by the bare hands of the man whose son he had shot. But just that quickly the tide of battle turned. The stranger, apparently convinced that an- other attempt to shoot his foe would be useless, shifted his posi- tion on the road slightly, but with a powerful effort; and in a second Henry Dapper, unconscious, was lying by the side of the road. The stranger, either with the butt of the gun or w?ith another weapon he had concealed but managed to reach, had dealt the older man a powerful blow' on the right temple that had rendered him unconscious. rPHE detectives were, later, left * only to theorize on what fol- lowed, but it is presumed that the stranger leaped into the Doctor’s car and hastily made his getaway. Doctor Dapper, while the men fought beside the car, had ap- parently rolled from the seat and was wandering, half-crawling, half- walking, toward the pathway that led to Lebanon Church. When the elder Dapper came to his senses he found his w'ounded son, still conscious, but weaken- ing rapidly, crumpled im a heap on the steps at thechurchyard gate. In the nearest house — and it was quite far away — Elijah Hallam, his son, Reuben, and a son-in-law, L. E. Canning, heard the hoarse cries of the elder Dapper as he sought by his voice to arouse the countryside. In a short time, in the Hallam automobile, Doctor Dapper and his father were being rushed to Homestead Hospital, the nearest point of surgical aid. There, a few hours later, in one of the white hospital beds so familiar to him, Doctor Harry R. Dapper died. And if he had any inkling as to the identity of the stranger whose bullet was his death- messenger, or if he had any secrets that might furnish a motive for the attack, he died with the information sealed tightly within him. Milton Englert, millionaire uncle of the physician by marriage, stood at his bedside as life ebbed, and tried vainly to wring from him some word that would give a slender clue to the detectives who even then were seeking to gather facts that would penetrate the baffling veil of mystery enshrouding the affair. .But to the last Doctor (Above) The old gentleman is pointing to the spot by the steps to Lebanon Church to which Doctor Dapper crawled, mortally wounded, and col- lapsed. Photo at the lower left shows the chair, in a comer of closest associates knew' of Doctor Dapper’s office, in her existence. A complete w*“ch ,thf my*tucnous 5tran«" ... _ 7 , sat, calmly smoking a cigarette check of every effect of the while he waited for the Doctor young physician failed to to leave with him for the reveal even a scant trace rendezvous with death of a clandestine affair of any sort, to supply a clue. And the deeper the detectives dug, the more they estab- lished the fact that Doctor Dapper was a home-loving man, deeply attached to the wife w ho mourned his death, and to little Jane, who knew naught what it was all about. UENRY DAPPER, released from the hospital after a few hours, but still somew hat dazed by the events of the night, hastened to' his home and sought solitude for a lime, trying to collect his thoughts. At the scene of the murder a dozen detectives were clus- tered, going over, slowly but surely, every inch of ground within a radius of several hundred ( Continued on page 97) Dap|>er maintained that to him the man was a stranger and that he had no secrets. “He must have been a bandit — he must have wanted my money and my car.” was the only expression that came from the dying young physician’s lips, even after he had been told that he was going to die and had very calmly said: , “Yes, I know' it — he got me right!** The bullet had |>enetrated his abdomen and passed through his intestines, leaving a wound that seldom heals; and the physician knew what such a wound meant. A beautiful daw n brought with it no ray of light that would lend aid to a score of trained homicide detectives mustered by Chief George Murren, of the county force, and Frank Boyd, head of the Pittsburgh Bureau. Imaginations were strained as the detectives theorized and then shattered their own theories by facts. T^HERE was the usual cry : "bind tlu woman!** But if there was a woman in the life of Doctor Dapper aside from the one who was the mother of little Jane, the young physician had guarded the secret so well that not even hi*

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The Clue of the GRAY HAT THE story so far: 44 Shut up! Put 'em up! Don't say a word!" — thus came the three sharp commands, barked at John E. Levy, wealthy Tennessee sportsman, as he stepped into the garage behind his luxu- rious Memphis home at the midnight hour of November 21st, 1927. 14 Wait ” Levy reached toward his hip pocket. “ Let him hare it!" Had the gangsters misunderstood his gesture? A gun cracked . . . and Levy sank, dying, to the ground, while three shadows slunk off into the darkness. . . . Only a gray felt hat, ' size 7H» found near the garage, gave a clue to the identity of the cowardly killers. Levy was popular, and widely known as the “Hot Tamale King,” through his success in the manufacture of that fiery Mexican delicacy. His brutal slaying shocked Tennessee. Police Officer Solomon is granted the special assign- ment of tracking down the assassins. Armed with the gray hat, for weeks he trudges the streets, seeking the head' that fits it. One day 44 Bill's th ' guy what lost that hat!" an underworld tipster whispers into Solomon’s ear. The tip looks good. Jubilantly, Solomon takes up the hunt for the mysterious “Bill/* whose real name not even the underworld seems to know. Again — failure. . Then, one morning, Solomon is summoned to Inspector Griffin’s office. Will he be called off the case ? he asks himself gloomily . . . Officer Solomon continues his story: Part Three — Conclusion Photo of the garage, taken shortly after the crime, where Levy was shot down in the darkness by gunmen. The killing occurred in the doorway shown. (Top) John Edwin Grace, sentenced to death in the electric chair. He planned the “job” “Now, I didn’t call you in to complain of the lack of suc- cess. I simply want to ask you again to exert your utmost resourcefulness in a final effort to dig up the elusive owner of that hat. That seems to be the best angle for you to continue working upon.” “Yes, sir,” I said humbly. 44 You can get all the assistance you need from the Depart- ment— there is no limit!” TTHAT encouraging attitude of the shrewd Inspector toward * his subordinates is one of the characteristics upon which his eminent success has been built. With such kindly urging, who wouldn’t strive the harder to lift a burden of care from “Damned if you haven't got Bill this time!" the Sergeant exclaimed, the min- ute he caught sight of the man I ushered into his office. But, after all— was it really Bill, the man the police were after in the Levy killing? By Detective Sergeant Morris Solomon Memphis Police Department As told to Homer G. Wells “^\()L,” Inspector Griffin began pleasantly, wrhen I re- ported myself at his desk, 44 1 know' you are doing your level best on that hat angle of the Levy murder mystery, but it is beginning to look as if the investi- gation has reached a standstill. The newspaper editors are calling me up every day and wanting to know what progress wre are making. The thing is getting on my nerves! I have assured the Levy family of our best efforts to apprehend the slayers, and they knowr that you are working on the case, in addition to the Homicide Squad. Naturally, they want results. the shoulders of one’s chief? The interview lasted about thirty minutes, and we talked over the check-up 1 had made of Missouri Mike’s information and the lack of substantiation to his l>elief that the suspect known only as “Bill” had lived in South Memphis. In the end, the Inspector agreed that it would probably be as good a course as any for me to continue a while longer in trying to find someone in the Fort Pickering section to identify the mysterious “Bill,” by the description in our possession and the derelict hat we had. 47

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True Detective Mysteries. I omitted any mention of the mysterious tele- phone call threat- ening my life, made the night before — not that I had for- gotten it so soon, but localise I knew Inspector Griffin would not permit iffe to take the risk of working alone if I told him about that. I wanted the secret satisfaction Sergeant Lemmer Gf showing the man who had warned me to stay away from Fort Pickering that 1 wasn’t afraid of getting bumped off. So, leaving Inspector Griffin’s office, I walked to Main and Adams, boarded a De Soto Park car, and rode into Fort Pickering again. That day, and the day following, I w'orked uneventfully, and my labors were as barren of results as the many previous ones. I kept my eyes open for any chance attack, but sawr no sign of the threatened hostilities. There were, of course, some among the persons 1 interviewed on those two days who displayed no sympathy for my presence in the com- munity, but I was pretty well seasoned to that sort of recep- tion by that time. Their glum attitude was nothing to tie disturbed over. When the wintry haze of darkness began to blend with the dingy pall of soft-coal smoke that hung over the factory settlement, enfeebling the sparsely located arc-lights, I sauntered over to the car-stop in front of Riverside School and awaited the town-going car. It was the second day- following my last-mentioned conference with the Chief. And it had been another day without visible returns. The car was crowded with factory workers, and I wedged my way into the group, joining the strap-hangers. In the jam of passengers I observed a familiar face. 'T'HE skinny figure clad in a loud-checked Mackinaw coat, with turned-up collar, wearing a dirty brown cap pulled low over his little fishy, blue eyes, was barely recognizable to me as the one-time pickpocket, Frank Stiles — “Fretful Frank,” as he was called. Fretful Frank had once been a good informant for me on another case, but I had lost sight of him for several months. He was looking at me when I first saw him, and a sly signal that passed unobserved by the crowded trolley passengers apprized me that he wished to talk to me privately. When tjie car reached Madison Avenue, I passed him the wink, and got off. Walking west- ward one block, I strolled into the Federal Building and found a de- serted corridor, where I was soon joined by the trail- ing informer. We held a secluded caucus that lasted about fifteen min- utes, and*I emerged with a greatly ac- celerated stride. Five minutes fLe/tf) Freeman Gunion, “the man the gray hat fitted” later, I wfas seated in the Homicide Bureau at Police Headquarters, tell- ing Captain Glis- son, whom I was lucky enough to find at his office at that late hour, the startling new s I had just gleaned from the whispering lips of Fretful Frank. “We’ve got a big break, at last!” I informed the Cap- tain. “Fretful Captain Glisson Frank know-s the - key man in the Levy case! He just described him to a gnat’s bristle — the same description we got from Missouri Mike — of that fellow' ‘Bill,’ who lost the hat!” “Does he know' where we can lay hands on the man?” Captain Glisson was impatient for something concrete. “IJE told me that ‘Bill’ was just a nickname, and the 11 guy’s right name is Sandy Manning. And he lives at Number West Iowa Avenue, near Florida Street.” “Who do you want to help you make the pinch?” The Captain generously conceded me the lead. “I’d like to make it alone!” I replied enthusiastically. Captain Glisson consented, and I was soon hurrying back to my waiting informant. With Fretful Frank located at a vantage point, where he could give me a prearranged signal w hen our man showed him- self at the house on West Iowa Avenue, I found concealment in a vacant building near-by, and for two days kept the suspected address under close surveillance. At the end of that period, I became convinced that there was a slip-up somewhere. Fretful Frank, when we had another clandestine meeting, told me that he had a speaking acquaintance with Sandy — otherwise “Bill” — and offered to use a pretext and make in- quiry at the house where he knew' Sandy had been living until the last few days. I agreed to his plan. “Landlady says that bird’s gone!” Fretful Frank said dis- gustedly w hen he came back. “Oh, hell!” I muttered, half-doubting that such a man as we sought had ever lived there. “But that ain’t much of a setback, Mr. Solomon, for I found out where he moved to,” the wheezy voice said hbpe- fully. “It’ll be money to you, if you are right,” I assured him. The crafty Frank led me to a large, two-story brick resi- dence in the eleven - hundred block on Missis- sippi Avenue, a distance of some two miles from the West Iowa Ave- nue address that w e had lately been covering. The house had long ago been occupied by an illustrious officer of the Southern Confed- eracy, but now the neighborhood is (Right)- George Washington Prince, sentenced to death

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The Clue of the Gray Hat 49 largely populated l>\ Negroes. A sign in I rout advertised rooms for rent. Once more, I kepi in the background while Fretful Frank inquired for “Bill." “He’s been roomin’ there, off and on. for the Iasi week. Th’ broad I talked to is a friend of mine, and she tole me con- hden’shally that Bill’s had to quit bangin’ out over on Iowa, ’cause th’ bulls was gettin’ too hot after him ” “Where is he now?" 1 asked eagerly. My man surrendered with the meekness of a lamb. Arriving at Headquarters. 1 pridefully marched the prisoner into Captain Glisson’s office, and was disapfx>inted to learn that the Captain was not there to praise me for the good work 1 thought I had done. But I was gratified by the presence of Sergeant Ixmimer “Damned if you haven’t got Bill this time!" Sergeant Lem- mer exclaimed, the minute he caught sight of the man I ushered into the office. “Th* gal says he’s thick with some taxi drivers, an’ spends a lot of time loafing at th’ cab yard across th’ street from Union Station. Guess he’s there now. “You make a plant around here, where you can keep an eye on his rooming-house." 1 directed quickly. “I’ll lx* able to recognize him by description, if he happens to lx- loafing with the taxi drivers. If I find him around Union Station. I’ll grab him and run him in. If not. I’ll meet you here in a couple of hours. “If he conies back to his room while I’m gone, you’ll have the lay of the land," I concluded. That news about things getting too hot for “Bill" in Fort Pickering, and the further fact that he did his loafing in the vicinity of Union Station, made me wonder if he w’asn’t the man who had talked from the telephone booth in the waiting-room that night when I had traced the threatening call to that very point. But that was something I have never learned yet. T FOUND four or five idle ** taxi drivers lounging around the Yellow Cab lot across from the railroad sta- tion, but there were no visitors with the uniformed drivers. I decided to take a chance on none of them knowing me, for I didn't look much like a de- t e c t i v e, and inquired for “Bill." “I was supposed to meet Bill here," I told one of the drivers. “He hasn’t been gone ten minutes," the youngest of the crowd answered without ask- ing what Bill I was talking about. “I think he went up toward Main and Calhoun." “Thanks. I may see him up that way,* 1 returned casually. But wrhen I headed west on Calhoun Street, my pace quickened. Was my luck turning? I walked right in upon my man, two blocks from Union Station, as he sat |x*rched upon a stool at a soda fountain. Every detail of the description that had become seared upon my memory during all those anxious days of the search for the murder suspect seemed to confront me in the image reflected by a great mirror, which faced the man leisurely sipping a soft drink. Whether he was the real “Bill" or not, I was at that moment standing lx*hind a man who filled that descrip- tion to a “T"! Not w ishing to act too hastily, I ordered a coca cola, w hile placing myself between the suspect and the front d<xir of the drug store. At the sound of my voice, he turned his eyes in my direction. There was a flash of recognition upon his face. He picked up the soda check and turned toward the cashier’s cage. Thinking 1 had a desperate man to deal with, 1 took little chance on the outcome of any shooting that might lx* started on the heels of my command for him to put his hands up. But the precaution was needless. VJOT a word of denial came from the prisoner. “Yes. I have brought you the man who killed Mr. Levy," 1 announced importantly. “You’re wrong there, mister," the manacled man who had seemed to take his arrest as a matter of course* immediateb protested. ^ We put him through the usual procedure of rapid-fire interroga- tion for more than an hour, dur- ing which time he steadfastly denied having ever had the re- motest connection with any mur- Harahan Bridge, spanning the Mississippi River at Memphis, from which, near the further end, as shown in the picture, Elizabeth White, “Gunion’s girl,” threw the murder weapon into the swirling water the night after the assassination of Levy. ( Upper right) This snap-shot of Gunion, who was later sentenced to die in the electric chair, unearthed by a country sheriff, was the means of identifying the mysterious “Bill” in the man-hunt for the Levy killers dcr —especially the assassination of the “Hot Tamale King." Hi* admitted that his common monicker was Bill, and did not deny that he had been a fugitive from the law; was a former habitue of the Wild Duck pool-room; had worn a gray felt hat a few months previously, and was a late resi dent of the Fort Pickering section. “ but purse-snatching is the worst thing I ever done. an’ 1 wouldn’t kill a chicken!" Sandy Manning pleaded. I lx*gan to feel less sure that the strong circumstances, upon which 1 had acted, were well grounded. This “Bill" had told a pretty straightforward story. Sergeant l/?inmer and I held a whispered powwow . A few minutes later an officer was dispatched to the county jail with an order to bring Missouri Mike over to Police Headquarters. Front the concealment of a dark room adjoining the one in which our prisoner was lx?ing grilled. Missouri Mike scanned our suspect, to verify his identity. He squinted a moment, then said . “That punk is almost a dead-ringer for the guy who rublx*d old man l^vy out, but — Bill’s jaw s (Continued on pa^e I *3)

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CHICAGO’S “Sheik ” Slayer “Get ‘Marty’ Durkin!” came the police order, and the hunt was on. Eighteen “ con- tacts” were shadowed . . . twenty telephone wires were tapped on which keen detec- tives listened-in night and day for a whispered word that would reveal the fugi- tive's hide-away — then, finally came the “ tip-off ” By John J. McPhaul of the Chicago Herald-Examiner (Above) Mrs. Irma Sulliv an Durkin, who married the gun- man-sheik after a whirlwind courtship — and later repented. ( R ight)" Marty” (indicated by arrow) and his captors at Union Station, Chicago, followed by a crowd that eagerly sought to get a glimpse of the “Sheik” as he was being hurried to a prison cell VISUALIZE a slim, arrogant young giant who loved a fast car, a pretty woman, and the power and the threat that lay in a .45. Picture a youth embittered against the men who represented law and order; an undereducated, overwise youth who, starting as a humble worker, became bootlegger, auto thief and killer, and delighted in the luxury and the sense of superiority that come with the easily made dollar. Conceive, in the mind’s eye, such a young man, and you have Marty Durkin, “Sheik Slayer” of Chicago, at twenty- five, roaring through life at a seventv-mile-an-hour pace for a brief and hurried fraction of time. His career of major crime ran its course within a year, but it was twelve months of spectacular and unceasing conflict with the representatives of established order, a reckless, un- heeding period of law-defying that finds few parallels in modern crime history’. He was a deft marksman, thanks to a quirk of nature that had endowed him with phenomenal sight. Within those twelve months he was in and out of five separate police traps, his blazing guns leaving l>ehind two men dead and three pain- 50 fully wounded. Added to this, the State of Illinois places uixrn his shoulders indirect responsibility for the shooting to death of three more men, a civilian and two policemen, who lost their lives in the great man-hunt that had Durkin as its quarry. It was a man-hunt that continued for three months, covered the nation from coast to coast, and ended without bloodshed only because Durkin’s itching trigger finger strayed for a careless moment from his gun. an October Sunday evening in 1925 — the nth. to be ^ exact — Marty Durkin shot and killed EdwartJ C. Shana- han, a U. S. Department of Justice operative. It was the beginning of the end for him, for by this act he set in motion the inexorable machinery of the Federal Government, that rested not until he was l>ehind cell bars. It is a familiar story, that of the teamster who, riding to life imprisonment, heard the rumbling of wheels on the brick pavements, the clatter of horses’ hoofs and the grinding of brakes, as the automobile sped ahead, and cried: “ There are sounds and sights I am going to be hungry for!”

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51 Chicago's “Sheik" Slayer (Above) Three poses of Marty Durkin, taken in prison. Durkin was a “copper hater,” and would shoot a policeman or detective at the first sign of hostility. He claimed that it was police in- justice in dealing with him, early in his career, that had made him that way Speed of motion, pretty women, the thrill of dangerous living — these are the things Marty Durkin must hunger for, now only twenty-nine and with forty-seven years to give in ex- piation in a lonely cell and a jail workshop. Martin James Durkin, Jr., was !>orn in 1900 in that section of Chicago best know n as “back of the stock-yards.” His boy- hood wras much the same as a thousand others reared in the district. He was neither noted for his piety nor damned for his sins. Upon completing the grammar school course, he went to work for a railroad as a hel|>er to his father, a switchman. O IS life was commonplace and tranquil until April, 1917. ** when America entered the World War. Not yet seven- teen, Durkin tried to join the Army, but his enlistment was blocked by his mother. He tried the Navy, and again was frustrated by Mrs. Durkin. Finally he ran away from home and was accepted in the Canadian Koval Horse Artillery, He served eighteen months. During that time he was gassed and shell-shocked. In addition to a store of those memories that only war can give one, young Durkin brought out of the Army several medals testifying to excellent marks manship. He had learned that he had a telescopic vision in the left (Left) Policeman is standing in doorway through which Durkin made his escape after gun-battle with the police in Lloyd Austin’s home, in which Austin was killed and Detective Sergeant Gray received a wound from which he later died. Wounded, Durkin made his way through cellar, shown on the left, later spending hours in torture before he ventured forth to seek a phy- sician’s aid eye. A target that to a normal eye wras almost invisible be- yond twenty-five yards, he could discern and pierce at a distance of 100 yards. PX- PRIVATE Durkin took up his railroad duties again for a time, then tried driving a motor bus, and later worked in a steel mill. He achieved twro matrimonial alli- ances, neither of which attained any degree of j>ermancncy. His first was with a young high school girl. Two days af ter the ceremony, her parents returned her to their home, and the marriage was later annulled. Next was one Sadie Stroka. Their wedded life wras in its fourth month when the bride left his bed and board and Obtained a divorce. This period of uncertainty, of continual change in his work and in his domestic life, his mother attributed to his war ex- periences, when, months afterward, the mounting list of crimes charged against him brought her to his defens**, lie who had l>een a quiet, contented boy, she pleaded, came out of the world holocaust a suddenly old-young man, restless, erratic and ever eager for the new and the different. Whatever his mental condition, he took a Christmas vaca- tion in December, 1921, without the formality of asking for it, and promptly lost his job as a brakeman.

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52. True Detective Mysteries A few months later his friends and relatives found him en- joying a new and surprising prosperity. He described himself as a used-car dealer. The day when the State’s Attorney of Cook County was to rise in court and counter his explanation of his activity with the charge: “Auto thief!” was yet many months in the offing. Karly in 1922 he took unto himself a third wife. She was Ruth Fieback, a pretty, red-haired girl of eighteen, whom he met at a roller-skating rink. They were husband and wife until I)eceml>erof that year when, as Ruth explained, Marty “just wan- dered away.” He wandered into p a g e one prominence in the Chicago dailies as the “S h e i k of Griffith.” In that little town in In- diana he struck up an acquain- tance with three y o u n g married w o m e n, piled them all, includ- ing the small child of one of them, into an automo- bile, and drove to Miami. r\URKIN was then twenty- two. Six foot one, 1 70 p o 11 n d s of Ixme and muscle, he was trim and supple. He had a pink and white complexion, inno- cent - looking blue eyes, brown, wavy brown adornment slightly larger than them or me. God help the cop that tries to pinch me now!” Durkin drew first blood in his war on |x>lice on the evening of December 5th, 1924. Neighbors reported a burglar in a basement at 1057 West Kightieth Street, Chicago, and Po- licemen John O’Keefe, Frank Schuler and Cornelius Allen were dispatched to the scene. In the darkness of the basement, Durkin and the three officers met. Bullets poured from four guns. One after another, Allen, Schuler and O’Keefe fell with Durkin’s bullets in them. The “Sheik” got a bullet in the hip, but made his e s ca pe, leaving behind his auto- mobile parked in front. His identity was • established through the li- cense plates. The eventual recovery of t he policemen was as- sured, but from then on Durkin was a “wanted” man. A few days after the shoot- ing, a tip from an underworld in- former brought Police Chief T. L. Svoboda and three officers of Cicero, Cook County, to a hotel where Durkin was trapped in l>ed, recovering from his wound. hair and a trim, on his upper lip an eyebrow. His taste in clothes was good, and he had an unbounded patience when it came to the perplexing task of selecting the proper shade of tie to. l>est set off a brown suit. He had a vague idea that the three women might become chorus girls and he a dancer in a Florida show. The theatrical managers of the resort State, however, apparently failed to appreci- ate pr*>i>erly the ability of the four, for they were back in Chicago within a month. Durkin was promptly jailed on complaint of the three husbands, and also on a Florida charge of stealing an automobile. It took some time, but he eventually escaped prosecution. The trip is important only in the fact that it introduced Durkin to the police and he to them. In the months that followed, he has declared, he was arrested continually and “shown up” before victims of various robberies in the hope that they might be able to identify him. Up to this period (late in 1923), he always asserted, he had never committed a dishonest act. But during one of these imprisonments, he charged, he was beaten by police and in- jured in a manner rendering him incapable of fatherhood. It was then that Durkin became the “copjier hater.” He was quoted by an acquaintance as saying: Tin going to get into a racket. I’ve got the reputation, ermis- sion to enter a bathroom, he leaped twenty feet to the ground and escaj>ed in a hail of bullets. Traced that same night to another hotel in Cicero, he en- gaged in a gun battle with the jiolicemen and shot his way out, taking with him the gun of one of the officers — as a souvenir, ]K*rhaps. He had l>ecome a veteran artful dodger of police nets by February, 1925, when he met Betty Werner, a girl who hence- forth was to know little peace, l>ecause she loved Marty Durkin. Not yet twenty-one. Betty, too, had had some illuminating experiences. At seventeen she had been sufficiently impressed with a young man who drove a handsome limousine to take up life with, him without benefit of clergy. It was not long Indore she discovered he was merely the chauffeur of that glittering machine. Other things she learned, all tending to show her young man had been a little careless with the truth. She left him a month before her baby son was born. This, then, was the girl whom Marty Durkin charmed at a chance meeting in a restaurant, and who taught her boy to

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53 Chicago’s "Sheik” Slayer call him 44 Daddy/' Henceforth, his path was hers. Four times l>etween February and Octol>er of 1925, Dur- kin. Betty and the child motored l>etween Chicago and Cali- fornia. The speedy reside of stolen automobiles kept him well supplied with money, and occasionally he dabbled in liquor. He utilized a motor-boat to transjx>rt whisky from Mexico and Ixiotlegged it in Los Angeles, Hollywood and other California cities. Betty proved herself a fit companion for the reckless and Above » Marty Dur- kin. the picturesque sheik - gunman of Chicago, as he ap- peared deft to right) at the ages of 12 years, 2 years, and 1 year respectively (Right) Betty Wer- ner, whose stormy career with Durkin finally landed her in jail temporarily, where she is shown in this photo, in a pensive mood defiant Durkin on one of these trips. Thy two were ar- restee! in Sacra- mento on sus- p i c i o n . T w o officers were ques- tioning Durkin in l*>lice headquar- ters, when Betty usen window spoke volumes. The girl was jailed for aiding a prisoner to escape, but very nn funds came from a mysterious source to furnish her bail. Once on the street, she met Durkin, and the precious pair gaylv left town. Karlv in October they met Harlow (ieorge, an uncle of Betty s, in Albuquerque, Newr Mexico. He had just l>een released from jail on probation after serving part of a three- year sentence. Durkin readily agreed to take him to Chicago. They arrived in the city Octol»er 7th. and then came the tip-off. Someone informed the |M>lice of Durkin’s presence in Chicago. The tip brought a consolidation of the forces of the local police, w'ho wanted Durkin for shooting the three officers, and the Federal agents, w'ho had warrants for him for vio- lating the Dyer Act, prohibiting the transporting of a stolen car from one State to another. 1 he trap wras ready to f>e sprung that Sunday evening, the 11th, when Durkin anticipated the sleuths. Suspecting the police knew of his presence in Chicago, he departed for Porter s Carage at Sixty-Second Street and Princeton Avenue, where he planned to obtain his car, return for Betty and the baby, and leave the city. Kdw'ard C. Shanahan, the agent of the Department of Justice, was on guard at the garage. Durkin entered and walked over to his car. He felt something hard pressing into his back, and turned around to face Shanahan. Lee Porter, owner of the garage, and his helper, Freeman Ix>ngtin, wrere some distance away. They saw Shanahan throw’ back his coat, revealing his star. Suddenly they heard shots, and saw Shanahan fall. They saw’ Durkin leap into his car and race it out of the door and into the street. They saw' Shana- hau, dying, raise himself on one el- bow- and fire three shots — futile shots, that pierced the car but did not touch the fugitive. F\EATH claim- ^ ed the govern- ment man less than an hour later. The man-hunt was on >nce more. While Durkin slept that night in the barn on his uncle’s farm in Valparaiso, In- diana, forty - five miles from Chi- cago, Edward J. Brennan, Shana- han’s chief, rein- forced his staff with agents from other middle-w’est cities and dis- patched every man on the hunt. Morgan A. Col- lins. Chief of Po- lice of Chicago, informed his army of |>oIicemen and detectives that their main job was the capturing of Durkin. The city posted a $5°° reward, as did the Federal Government. The instructions w’ere to kill on si%ht, if necessary. ( hicago was in a turmoil. Each day there were an average •>f fifty telephone calls to newspapers and jxilice stations from

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54 True Detective Mysteries excited citizens who had “’list seen Durkin !” Homes, schools, railroad stations were searched by jxdice squads. At least a dozen young men, most of whom sorted “eye- brow” mustaches and resembled Durkin in one wray or another, demanded of police that they be supplied with k tters stating simply: “ This man is not Martin Ihirkin .” Daily, they complained, they were halted and questioned by |*>lice, scrutinized and trailed by ambitious citizens. Fervently, each expressed the hope he would not meet with an overeager amateur sleuth who might take a pot-shot first and investi- gate afterward ! Eighteen men and women relatives and friends of the fugitive wrere being shadowed constantly. Twenty telephone wires w*ere tapped, and men were listening-in day and night for a whispered word that might reveal the hunted one’s hid- ing-place. But not even his friends knew where he was. ~ The hunt spread over the entire nation. During one twelve-hour period, shortly after the killing, police had reports from 150 different sources through- out the country, all to the effect that Durkin had just been seen, sur- rounded or fired (A bove ) Lloyd Austin, killed in Durkin -police battle in Austin’s own home. (Right) Detective Sergeant Gray who, after a losing battle in a hospital, finally died from infection following an opera- tion to remove a bullet fired into him by Durkin U|x>n. Zealous officers on lonely country- roads fired upon speeding motorists, each afterward ready to target MHIHHHHHflHHHHHI was. the man who was worth $1,000 dead or alive. Police everywhere were on tiptoe. Betty Werner, seized an hour after the killing of Shanahan --r the day, incidentally, being her twenty-first birthday anniversary — was held prisoner until October 27th. when she was permitted to go to the home of an uncle. Clarence Ward, at 225 Englewood Avenue Two Federal agents were assigned to watch her. A T 1 o’clock the following morning, they saw- her bed- ** room light extinguished. They departed. At 3 o’clock, Durkin ap|>eareo. He climbed in a window and awakened her. He asked her to leave with him, and she did not hesi- tate. Quietly the two, with the sleeping child, left by the window. In the south side hotel where Durkin had been living for a week past as C. R. Barnes, a traveling salesman, the two talked until long after dawn had lighted the room. He told her he had been to Cleveland and to Kansas City by auto- mobile and train since the killing, and had found no difficulty in evading detection. He believed he would l>e able to con- tinue to outwit his pursuers, and the girl fell in with his sug- gestion that they go to Michigan, where Durkin would seek work as an automobile mechanic and lead “an honest life.” That day a meeting was arranged w-ith Clarence Ward, Betty’s uncle. Durkin decided to transfer the belongings of Betty and the boy to the home of another of her uncles, Lloyd Austin, at 240 Englewtx>d Avenue. The plan was for Durkin and Betty to apf)ear at the Austin home at midnight, obtain the clothing and leave at once for Michigan. Austin felt it his duty to inform the police, and conse- quently, two hours before midnight, police took possession of the Austin home. Sergeant Harry- Gray, a crack marks- man, was stationed in the kitchen. Policemen Patrick Nolan and Michael Naughton were in one bedroom and Policeman Meyers in a second. Durkin, stepping into the living-room, was to find police guns trained upon him in front, at the rear and at his left. Austin was to give the signal by calling: “Hello, Marty!” PROMPTLY at 12, Durkin and Hetty ascended the steps *“■ of the Austin home, which was just 100 yards from the garage where Shanahan had met his death. The girl entered first. Austin, extremely nervous, cried: “Hello, Betty!” Because Austin, in error, had said “Betty” instead of “Marty,” Gray, believing Durkin had failed to appear, stepped from concealment with his gun up. Durkin just then crossed the threshold. Guns blazed from all corners of the little apartment. One of Durkin’s shots 1 struck Gray in the abdomen. The Ser- geant swayed and fell against Naughton’s leveled shotgun. The shotgun’s charge went w ild, the slugs piercing the w-all and striking Lloyd Austin, who had sought safety in an adjoining room. A police bullet caught Durkin in the back. He ran through the kitchen and down the back stairs into the yard. Shotgun slugs ripped into his left arm. He lurcher! against a clothesline, fell, and lost his hat. He was up in a mo ment and vanished in the night. Austin, w'ith eleven slugs in his Ixxiy, expired within a few hours. Gray fought for life for five days, finally succumbing November 2nd, w'hen an infection set in following an opera^ tion to remove a bullet. The fiasco created great public indignation, and brought a rigid investigation of the police methods. Captain Michael Lee, commanding the Englewood district, was suspended and tried before the civil service commission on a charge of inefficiency. He was finally exonerated and returned to duty. A coroner’s jury returned a verdict that Durkin had killed Gray and that Policeman Naughton had accidentally killed Austin. No action was taken against Naughton. To return to Durkin. He stumbled out of the Austin yard suffering intense pain. He sought shelter in the base- ment of a vacant building, not faraway, and sjxmt the hours till dawn crouched in a corner like a wounded animal. At daylight his wounds were proving such torture that In- dared arrest by gping openly through ( Continued on pa fie 84)

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The long, tortuous trail — one of constant peril of being bumped off— is being doggedly followed by the detectives who are slowly but surely closing in on the infamous ban- dit, Gerald Chapman. Here is the real story of this notorious police character — revealed to the public for the firsts time (Right) Gerald Chapman, heavily guarded and manacled, being taken from the jail to the court, in his trial on a charge of first degree murder the Real TRUTH About CHAPMAN- America’s “Super-Bandit” HE story so far: Sunnging aboard a U. S. mail truck , on down-town Leonard Street , New York City, two daring bandits held up the driver, Frank Havernack, and looted the truck. The time was 10 P. \{., Oct. 24th, 1921. The bandits had driven up to the mail truck in a pleasure-car. They made their escape in the same car. It was driven by a third man who took no other part in the hold-up. The whole operation took less than three minutes. Thus was pulled what the entire country knew' next day to have been the biggest hold-up ever made in the East in the history of the Post Office Department. The total loot amounted to $1,454,129 in currency and bonds! Within an hour of the robbery, the wheels of the gigantic machinery of the Post Office Department's secret service were in motion, to capture the bandits. Inspectors Stone and Lord assumed charge of the in- vestigation in New York. Four months of unrelenting sleuthing followed. There was no clue to the bandits' identity. Then- -a tip took Inspector Stone to Detroit. There he definitely picked up the trail of one of the bandits — George ("Dutch") Anderson. As yet he had no clue to the identity of the other — Gerald Chapman. Both bandits were now engaged in the merry game of " passing " the "hot" bonds of the mail-truck loot to "receivers." Thread by thread, the sleuths now sought to pick up the ramifications of the gigantic web as it spread from city to city. Paul Drayton, a reformed ex-convict, now a trusted sleuth of the Post Office Department, learns that a notorious "fence," Louis Wolfe, of New York City, is in the market for red-hot bonds. A dummy brokerage firm is organized by the post-office inspectors. Its object is to establish contact -with Wolfe and, eventually , with the mail-truck bandits. Billy Baxter, clever post-office sleuth, thinks a girl might help him. One night he meets "Bobby" Daniels, baby-eyed night club "hostess" lie tells her of a scheme to clean up on a trust fund of gilt-edged securities — a treasure trove — if only his friend would go in on it! Bobby's eyes sparkle as she listens to him. She has her own connections with crookdom. Perhaps here is her chancel The story continues : Part Two “T DON’T see anything very wrong in taking out the bonds I for a few days,” she said comfortingly, “but somebody JL might miss them. That is probably what your friend is afraid of. Let me talk it over with a man I know — I prom- ise, cross my heart, I won’t mention any names — and I’m sure he’ll hit on some scheme that you can put up to your partner.” “Fine — only keep my name out of it!” warned Billy. One more bottle, and as the hour reached 4 A. M., Billy left the club, arranging to see Bobby a couple of nights later and learn of whatever plan her friend had concocted. Baxter knew that during the intervening couple of days, he and his partner would be carefully looked up by memljers of the underworld. “Buried bonds” — the name given by bank thieves to such securities as those which he had descried to the girl — offer the safest kind of loot, but ordinarily they are beyond the reach of plunderers. The inspector who was carrying the r61o of senior partner in the post-office’s dummy firm, had lieen diligently engaged in cultivating the confidence of various brokers whose sjjecialty 55 By David Lindsay

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56 True Detective Mysteries was fraudulent Ixmd schemes. Consequently, scouts sent out by Bobby Daniels* friends turned in a highly favorable re- jjort, and the desired contact with W olfe's brokerage firm was achieved. Three weeks later, on April 28th, 19 22, there appeared in a New York morning i>a})er, the following news item: BROKERS RECEIVERS OF STOLEN BONDS! “Months of unrelenting work by Post Office detectives brought about the arrest yesterday of three men charged with having in their possession bonds that were stolen by armed robbers from a mail truck at Broadway and Leonard Street the night of October 24th. The loot totaled $1,454,129, and the crime was one of the most baf- fling in the Post Office annals. “The prisoners are Jacob B. Price, middle-aged and resident of 04 West 179th Street ;Lou is Wolfe and John Wolfe. They were held in $25,000 bail each by United States Commissioner Hitchcock. “A carefully staged trap brought about the arrests. The Inspector in charge of the case prevailed on a prom- inent brokerage house in the financial district to give two of his men accom- modations in a suite of their offices where they posed as brokers. These brokers, as supposed buyers of “hot” bonds, got in touch with the three yes- terday, and after lengthy negotiations, made a deal to buy $75,000 worth of their securities at 60 percent, of their market value. “It took some time to win the confi- dence of the holders of the stolen bonds, according to Assistant U. S. At- torney Cahill, who said Price asserted he had 4bonds worth half a million.* “The sale was finally negotiated yes- terday. When Wolfe and Wolfe took a package of bonds from their pockets and laid them on the broker's desk, they were surrounded by sixteen detectives who had posed as everything from the janitor to the firm’s best customer. The two were taken into custody, as soon as a few revolvers were drawn. The arrest of Price followed soon after. . . . “Wolfe, the master-mind, is a lean, dwarfed, deprecatory man. One of the most successful fences and disposers of stolen, merchandise that ever operated in New York- -a genu- ine superman of modern criminality. For ten years this sleek, gliding rodentesque adventurer was operating his own group of looters and was doing a business of $1,000,000 a month. “Officers and detectives by the hundreds, including the public, police and special agents of railroads, shippers and insurance companies, have dogged his steps, laid snares for him, sprung their traps at opportune moments, and invaria- bly failed to hold the depredator. He has been in the grasp of the law no less than fifteen times, as is attested by his offi- cial record at Police Headquarters. In each instance he ‘beat’ his case.’’ /^OMPLETE information was never given out by j>ost- ^ office inspectors in regard to the manner in which the> gained the confidence of Wolfe’s confederates, but the peril of their ojjerations can easily be imagined. The j>art involuntarily played by the cabaret girl, Bobby Daniels, was learned by a Broadway news re|x>rter. He had it from the lips of one of Bobby Daniels’ chums, to whom she had talked with more confidence than discretion. Incidentally, it was by chance, while maneuvering for con- tact with Wolfe himself, that the jx>st-offia' men caught two young brokers, Morris Steinberg and Edward Fogel, who also were dealers in “hot” Itonds. At first the detectives believed that these !>onds were part of the I^eonard Street loot, but it was discovered after their arrest that the securities belonged to a $1,000,000 Ixmd robbery which had long mystified the police. Both men were sent to Atlanta. Wolfe w’as not the type of criminal who squanders his ill- gotten gains. He had a comfortable fortune squirreled away, and immediately retained the most brilliant lawyers to defend him. Their first action was to obtain the prisoners’ freedom under bond. 1MEANTIME, Inspector Stone’s second “Warning” had A * gone out advising bankers and brokers to lx* on tin lookout for stolen bonds on the Ixxmard Street list, as the thieves wrere beginning to place them in circulation. In res}xmse to this warning, numerous complaints now poured in. One bank w rote saying that it had received a batch of bonds, the numbers of which had l>een changed by a 4 ‘sera teller.” These bonds had lx?en traced back to a Minneapolis broker who had taken them in good faith from various borrowers and sellers in Minnea(x>lis and St. Paul. Word was at once sent to the Minnesota jx>st-oftice detec- tives to get on the trail of the men who had passed the “hot” securities. This investigation was to lie made strictly under- cover, and no one was to be arrested until the inspectors directly in charge of the Ixxmard Street roblx*r\ decided it was time to “break” the case. Soon rvjx>rts came back to Inspectors D>rd and Stone in New York, stating that every borrower and seller who had traded in the “hot” bonds passed in the two Middle- Western cities had l>een exhaustively investigated. They proved to Ik thoroughly respectable business men, but when interrogated by detectives each one, at first, absolutely refused to divulge from whom he had obtained the tx>nds. However, when it wras explained to them that tin* bomb were stolen and that they were in danger of arrest on a charge* of receiving and sidling stolen pro|H»rty, they realized that they were in a pretty tight jam, and made a clean breast of the affair. Hen* is what they revealed Henry Sorlein, a bankrupt broker, had offered them an op- portunity to make some easy money in the following manner. The day is past when bandits like Chapman and Anderson can hold up a U. S. mail truck and get away with over a million dollars. This photo shows a United States mail truck guarded by marines while being loaded at the main post-office in Washington

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The Real Truth About Chapman — America's “ Super-Bandit ” 57 was found in his possession. Linking him with the stolen bonds, was a list of thirty-three securities, their numbers in- dicating that all but two belonged to the Leonard Street robbery ! When officers raided his offices later, they discovered ap- proximately $12,000 worth of bonds originally obtained from the same source, as well as other suspicious valuables. After a grilling which lasted all night and close up to noon 1MRS. McCORMICK had beenoneof the most 1 * popular and beautiful buds before her mar- riage, and subsequently the couple created for themselves an enviable reputation among the younger married smart set of Minneapolis and St. Paul. They were as well known in Mid- Western society as any social leaders of New York ii. »he East. As a matter of form, following Sorlein’s con- fession, an official called on McCormick. As was expected, the broker showed the utmost astonishment that Sorlein should have besmirched his name by connecting it with such nefarious practises. Sorlein, however, knew enough about the society man’s affairs to offset the latter’s claim that he knew the bankrupt only slightly, and the investigator was satisfied that he had at least some guilty knowledge of the passer’s transactions. A complete account of the state of affairs was mailed at Me stated that he had certain blocks of bonds in his possession ; if they would procure loans on these securities for him, or offer the bonds in pledge as security for his debts, he would pay them a very liberal commission. Because of the bankruptcy pro- ceedings. he explained, he, himself, could not obtain such loans. It was a very clever scheme. In becoming a party to such a transaction, the men involved themselves in a misdemeanor, and if their complicity was dis- covered they would have to do some tall explaining to the United States Attorney. This was the joker in the deck which Sorlein kept up his sleeve , believing it would force his friends to conceal the source from w hich they had obtained the securities. As each man believed that he, alone, had been approached by the bankrupt broker, it was not until the post- office inspectors enlightened them all, that they learned that they had been made party to a criminal conspiracy. For some weeks Sorlein tvas kept constantly un- der surveillance. It was hoped that he would lead the sleuths to the source from w’hich he had re- ceived the bonds. T^HEY picked up considerable evidence against ^ him, and became acquainted with several members of his “gang,” when they received an underworld tip that he w'as preparing to leave town secretly. • Acting promptly on this information, they ar- rested him in the early morning of May 24th, 1922. The accuracy of this tip wras confirmed when he was searched at the police station and a package of new crisp bills to the amount of $5,000 [Right) An interesting character study of Chapman taken while he was in prison awaiting trial for murder, he being found guilty and hanged. (Below) Auburn Prison, in which “Dutch” Anderson, Chapman’s pal, did time the following day, the United Mates Attorney and the post- office inspectors were convinced that Sorlein was not the real guiding spirit behind his operations. He took his arrest coolly, and, in spite of the fact that he faced a very long term in the i>enitentiary, maintained a sullen, defiant silence. It was plain from the start that he expected someone to engage a brilliant criminal lawyer to act as his “mouthpiece” and talk him out of his predicament. The detectives knew that Sorlein had l>een hard-pressed for money twenty-four hours before his arrest. From what source, then, had lx? obtained the $5,000 at the last minute — and to what source did he look for financial aid in engaging costly legal counsel to defend him? Those w'ere the questions that re- mained unan- swered for three weeks while Sor- lein waited, ex- pectantly, in the city jail. It was not until the end of the third week that he lost faith in the parties he had so confidently looked upon to come to his rescue. He sent word to the United States Attorney that he was ready to “talk turkey,” It was an al- most incredible tale that Sorlein unfolded to that official. In it, he invol- ved the name of Stanley McCor- mick, a member of a great Min- neapolis broker- age house, as the man who had furnished him with all the stolen property found in his offices and distributed by him and his agents! Not only w'as McCormick a man of high fin- ancial position, but by right of birth he belonged on the highest crest of the social swim. That this blue-blood should even touch the tip of his finger in the bilge-waters of the underworld seemed impossible, and Sorlein’s statement was taken down with considerable skepticism.

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58 True Detective Mysteries once to the New York Post Office, Ins|x?ctors* Department. Upon its receipt, Inspector Stone wired that he was leaving for Minnea|x>lis on the night train. XTO further startling developments had occurred at the New L ^ York end. Inspector Seville was on the trail of Loerber, an ex-convict who had been in Auburn at the same time as Anderson. Ix>erlx*r had an a|>artment on the ground floor of a house on West 179th Street, but spent more of his time at his mother’s humble flat on Amsterdam Avenue. Seville had even succeeded in meeting him. He owned and drove a twin-six Packard which, he told the masquerading detective, he had won in a crap game. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon, as Stone was busily engaged in clearing up certain routine details before leav- ing for Minneap- olis, the tele- phone on his desk rang with particu- lar violence. Picking up the receiver, he snap- ped a “Hello!” into the mouthpiece. An almost in- audible voice an- swered him: “This is Dray- ton. Pm in a garage opposite a house on One Hundred Forty- Second Street. Colored section. Can * t see the number, but it’s between Lenox and Fifth Ave- nue. Just saw Dutch enter. Like dope dive. He came in Loer- b e r * s c a r . I trailed him. . . .** Abruptly Dray- ton stopped talk- ing, and Stone heard the receiver click sharply back on its hook. Stone slowly replaced his own t>hone. Mentally he added this rejxirt on Ander- son toother data which seemed to connect him with the lx*onard Street crime: 1. Inspector lord’s recognition of An- derson in the Detroit real estate ’dealer’s description of “Edward P. Gensler.” 2. Anderson’s record. * 3. Anderson’s disappearance after the sale of his small tobacco store in Toledo. Ohio, two months Ixdore the I^eonard St reel robberv . 4. The uian, whose description tallied with the one given by Havernack*. the mail-truck driver, seen by the real estate dealer to meet Anderson (“Gensler”) in the Detroit hotel foyer. 5. D>erl>er owned a twin-six Packard — the same model as that descrflx*d by Havernack as having l>een used in the n>b- l>ery. I.oerlx*r had lieen in Auburn at the same time as Anderson. Loerber and Anderson were noiv associated. This accumulation of circumstantial evidence would have been sufficient for most detectives to warrant arrest of (Above) Might not these two be mistaken for minis- ters in conference — - or bankers considering the details of a financial deal? Do they look like the hard- boiled bandits and killers that they are —“Dutch” Anderson on the left. Chapman on the right? Anderson, or at least to bring the suspect in for a severe grilling. Not so with the post-office inspectors. When they get their man. tfiev want him so loaded down with the shackles of proof that not even the craftiest of criminals can pry them loose. Beyond placing Anderson and D>erber under strict sur- veillance, Stone did not plan to make any further move at that time. Should either man attempt to leave the jurisdiction, that would lx* another matter; the shadow men were advised how to act in that contingency. Not until After he had marshaled all those facts together did Stone begin to recall tin- un- usually long and strong peals of the telephone liell — ■ and the abrupt ter mi na tio n o f Drayton’s mes- sage. W hat had hap- pened to cut him off? Picking up the instrument, plan- ning to ask the operator to ex- plain the unusual energy of his sum mo ns, he w as halted by another call. This time it was from a police station in New' Jersey. “ We have the men who stuck up your mail truck on Leonard Street /” the jubilant voice of its captain an- nounced. “Will you send your driver over to identify them as soon as possible?’’ (Left) This is an enlarged re-print photo of Haver- nack, the U. S. mail -truck driver who faced Chap man and Anderson on that fateful night in Leonard St., New York, when more than a million was 44_~ ,, stolen and sent along the Iv ^ * awray, underworld “buried trail” Stone an- swered, with his customary curt- ness, and hung up the receiver. Turning to a clerk in the office, he in- structed him to get Havernack at his home — he was on night duty- and tell him to reix>rt at headquarters im- mediately. Then he turned his attention to the problem of Drayton's message. He had become so accustomed to associating Anderson with the mail-truck bandit, that the New Jersey captain's announcement lacked the force of actuality. “Was there any particular reason why you rang my tele- phone bell like a fire-alarm a few minutes ago?” he dryly asked the operator. “Yes, sir.” came back the reply. “The man on the other end told me it was very urgent — he was liable to lx* overheard at any minute — and to ring your bell like h Stone pressed the buzzer for his stenographer. He would have to attend to Havernack ’s jxissible identification of the prisoners in New' Jersey before leaving for Minneapolis. Such matters take time and most likely he would have to post|>onc his departure, until the next day.

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The Real Truth About Chapman -America's “Super- Bandit" 59 “Drayton has been in main tight corners during his tur- bulent career and is pretty well able to look after him- self,”— so ran his thoughts as he dictated a telegram to the Minnca]x>lis authorities advising them of his change of plans, and instructed the clerk to cancel his sleejier reservation. “But we can’t afford to let Anderson get wise that Drayton’s interested in him. Perhaps we’d l>etter send a man up there to scout about a bit and tail him when he leaves that dive . . . Drayton was crazy to attempt to tail a man who knew him so well,” was his conclusion as he went toward the office of the Ins|>ector in Charge to take up the matter with him at once. As he stepped into the corridor, he came face to face with the mail- truck driver, Havernack. The man’s eyes looked haunted as they met those of the Inspector, ques- tioningly. “Jersey police have just phoned that they have the men who held up your truck,” Stone informed him. “They need your identifi- cation!” Havernack winced. What would that meeting bring forth? . . . rjNE of the most picturesque ^ sections of Manhattan is the colored quarter of Harlem. It has an atmosphere of in- souciance which sets it as far apart as another planet from the fretful, harried districts where the white race wrangles for the wages of its higher existence in the canyons of lower Broadway. Busloads of visitors tear through the congested blocks and look w’ith amazement and so mething like envy at its care-free colonists: fat mammies hanging out of their windows and swapping endless jokes and chuckles with each other; grinning Negroes, draped on the stoop railings; swaggering bucks and coquetting young Negresses strutting along the streets; pick- aninnies rolling and laughing on the pavements. But it wasn’t into such a block that Dutch An- derson led Paul Drayton, the post-office sleuth. A factory- now stands on the site of the ramshackle tenement at 61 West 142nd Street, which the cultured and crafty criminal entered; and the other tenements adjacent have since been torn down. On the opjxisite side of the street, however, are duplicates of the building where the so-called master-mind had his myste- rious rendezvous every- now and then. It is a short block, the end of which abuts Fifth Avenue, where New York’s most celebrated thoroughfare winds up ignominiously in a rubbish dump. No joyous shouts are to lx- heard in that neighbor hood during the daylight hours. Drabness and silence brood there. Sullen, slinking, furtive-eyed figures occa- sionally drift along the street. At night, the honking of pleasure-cars, carrying revelers to the popular black -and -tan cabaret “clubs” in the neigh borhood, disturb this uncanny silence. With gin-soaked brains in the early hours of the morning, men, carrying well-filled wallets, and women, wearing costl\ jewels, frequently are seen staggering out of the “clubs,” and in spite of the vigilance of jiatnilmen, fall easy prey to the “lush workers” of the neighbor- hood. Dray-ton had found the garage opposite No. 61 empty when In* arrived. He had an answer ready for anyone who should hap])en to return and find him at the tele- phone, when he called Inspector Stone. Years sjient as. one of the hunted, however, had shar|xned his sense of hearing, and at the first sound of a footfall on the pavement, he had hung up the re- ceiver and sought concealment be- hind a dilapidated car. O I ZING up the man who en- ^ tered as a mechanic, Drayton stepjjed out of his hiding-place and assuming a sheepish brag- gadocio asked: “See an oldish man, stout, in a strq>ed gray suit and fedora hat, coming this way?” “Dick?” queried the other sus- piciously. “Worse,” Dray- ton answered with a suggestive grin. The mechanic obligingly went to the door anti looked up and down the street. “Coast’s all clear,’* he re- ported. “If I’m not in your way, I’d be glad to hang round here for a bit,” Drayton said ingratiatingly. “Sure, that’s all right,” the other responded care- lessly. Dray ton found a seat in a position that permitted him to watch the house opposite without himself being seen. So well screened w-as he, and so strategic was this position that w-hen Stone’s man turned up an hour or so later, he was easily able to make himself invisible. The detective entered the garage ostensibly to buy gas. Drayton recognized him immediately and caught his attention without attracting the notice of the garage heljxr. When the detective left, Drayton casually took his de- parture also. He had, w-arilv, not attempted to ask an> questions about the neighborhood Continued on page 99) Harlem, the picturesque “black belt” of New York into which the sleuth, “Dray- ton,” tracked “Dutch” Anderson, trailing him to a dope dive -after sighting him leaving the fashionable Waldorf Astoria Hotel (top) in a Pierce-Arrow car. This famous hotel, frequented by New York’s millionaires, is now being tom dowm, but its traditions are to be continued in its namesake, to be erected further up-towm

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The - BURNING GHOST A strange disappearance . . . a tenantless grave . . . a blazing pyre in the dead of night — and then the baffling riddle of the charred human skeleton. Who ? Dorothy andkr- son was too young to realize what a blow it was when her father died and left her mother with two little girls to support — a none too easy job in a metropolis like Chicago when one has no independent income. As Dorothy grew older, however, and passed from grade school into high, the straitened circumstances under which she was compelled to live began to impress themselves upon the girl, and she decided u|x>n a drastic step. So one morning before she left home, ostensibly for her classes, she wrote a little note and left it where it would catch her mother’s eye. It read: Dfar Mother: I am going away to try to lighten the burden . I will always be good. I am going on the stage. When I can, I will come back and repay you for the education you gave me. I can never repay you for your love and all you have done , but I will try to do my part and try to make it a little more pleasant for + you. I promise you al- ways to be good. Dorothy. Daily all over the world other little schoolgirls are writing similar notes and running away, only to come creeping back in tears and varying stages of disillusion. Upon little Dorothy Anderson, how- ever, fortune smiled immediately. That very morning she stood before a booking agent in I .a Salle Street and did for him the simple, graceful little dance steps that had made her one of the leading lights of her school's amateur productions. The booking agent was touched by the appeal in the girl’s ea^er brown eyes, was charmed by her innocence and capti- vating smile, and gave her a “chance.” He procured an engagement for her in the Boston Oyster House . a lobster palace in the Chicago “Loop.” Her dances and the ballads she sang so plaintively took the patrons by storm, and presently the pretentious Ice Palace in the Hotel Morrison, around the corner, had engaged her and billed her as “The Sunshine etw’een-times she took a course in shorthand and typewriting. One night she was asked to join a party for dinner and dancing at the then fashionable Bismark (hardens. For her it was a fateful evening, for she was introduced to Edward J. Sailstad, young president and principal owner of the Multitone Phonograph Company of Eau Claire, Wis- consin, married and the father of two young children, and reputed to be wealthy. They danced together several times, and between dances they found much to talk about. Dorothy thought him charming but, she said later, nothing special about him registered beyond the fact that he was clean-cut, entertaining and that, like herself, he confined his drinking to ginger ale. W hen they parted she had no reason to expect ever to hear from him again, and she didn’t — for several months.

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Meanwhile her mother died, and Dorothy had made her home with a married lister. In June, 1919, Dorothy received a letter from Sailstad. His secretary was leaving, he wrote, and he would be glad to have Miss Anderson take the position, since she had impressed him very favorably at their one meeting. I>orothy discussed the offer with her sister, and decided to accept it. Sailstad met her at the Eau Claire railroad station, took her to a room his wife had selected in a pleasant neighborhood for her, and the next day installed her in his office. Perhaps Dorothy’s owrn reactions to her new’ surroundings as she later recounted them best tell the story. “Hero at last seemed peace and quiet,” she said. “Mr. Sailstad during business hours w^as a man of deep concentration, inclined to be a bit gruff as a result, but a gentleman withal. He worked hard and expected his employees to work hard, but when they had done so he was grateful and showed it. I enjoyed my job. I was pleased with the quaint and beautiful village away from the hectic life I had known in Chicago and New York. I be- came fond of the new friends I made. The same Dorothy Anderson when a few short years had passed and tragedy had crossed her footsteps.' Contrast her features here, showing suffering ami care, with the photo of her on the page at the left REST of all was the sweetness of Mrs. Sailstad. From our first meeting we both seemed to kno\y and understand that we would like each other. She invited me to her home. What a home it was — elegantly furnished, and set back from the street with garden, trees and Mowers! “Outwardly it was the kind of a home that I could love, but there was something lacking that I couldn’t put my finger on. It was some time later, after I had been there several times, that I discerned what was lacking. Mr. Sailstad was polite to his wife, but he did not kiss her when he came in and in his eyes there was not that something with which a man looks at the woman he adores. That, then, was what was missing from the Sailstad home. Love no longer existed between husband and w ife, and the knowledge had saddened and dis- illusioned Mrs. Sailstad.” Things outwardly pursued an even tenon, - for several months, however. Mrs. Sail-* stad and Dorothy Anderson remained dosa> friends and often were seen at parties to- gether. Sailstad seldom look part in social gatherings during those days, and presently it was rumored that his business affairs were in a bad way . It began to lx* noticed that Sailstad’s face was becoming haggard and lined, that he seemed continually in a state of abstraction that prevented him from recognizing even close friends when he passed them on the street. Then it was stated on seemingly' good authority that the bapks had examined his financial statement and refused to lend him the money with which to carry on. In apparent verification, employees of his factory were laid off in large numbers. Dorothy Anderson was one of those to leave. To girl friends, however, she exhibited a w'edding-ring, and confided that she had been secretly married to an old sweetheart and was now going to join him. A day or so afterward she de- parted from Eau Claire. Two weeks later on August 27th, 1920 the entire com- munity was shocked by a report that Edward Sailstad was dead ! A skeleton from which all the flesh had been burned had been found among the smoking ruins of his summer cottage on the banks of Lake Nebagamon, nx> miles from Eau Claire. Sailstad had left town several days previously, saying that he was going to the I^ike for a rest and some fishing. The cottage was somewhat isolated, but he had been seen there by passers-by. No one had discovered the burning cottage until it was almost destroyed around 2 o’clock in the morning Sifting of the ashes had brought to light Sailstad’s watch, a signet ring and his keys. of LAKE NEBAGAMON 61

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62 True Detective Mysteries From Duluth came word that he had been there and bade his mother a good-by that had aroused her suspicions that all was not well with him. She had begged him to stay at her home for the night, but he had pleaded that urgent business would prevent. He also had paid a brief call to his mother-in-law. The wiseacres wagged their heads and agreed that Sailstad had found his financial burden too great. They recalled that he had been proud of his early business success, and had taken it to heart when things went against him. The gener- ally held belief was that he had taken his life — probably with poison, since there was no bullet wound in the skull — and had set the cottage afire to destroy his body. The coroner’s jury which sat on the case returned a verdict that Sailstad had died in the fire, but expressed no opinion as to whether it was accident, suicide or murder. The bones were ma Ross Richardson, his wife, Mrs. Leona Sailstad Richardson, and her two children by Edward J. Sailstad. After Sailstad's arrest and while his wife’s suit for divorce was pending, the marital tangle was further complicated by the birth of a son of whom Richardson was the father taken to Eau Claire and buried in the Sailstad family plot. An appropriate marker was erected over the grave. And then Insurance companies which had issued policies to the amount of $77,000 on Sailstad’s life declined to accept the general belief that he was dead! They bluntiy said that they believed a hoax to provide for his family by means of his insurance had been perpetrated, and they put detec- tives to work on the case. Mrs. Sailstad did not press them for payment. She said she was willing they should have plenty of time in which to work out any theories they might have. “1 firmly believe my husband is dead, and that it is his bones that are buried in the family plot,” she said. “Ed was not thfe kind to put another’s lx>nes in the cottage and burn it down to cover up a flight !” To insinuations that Sailstad had been infatuated with Dorothy Anderson and had eloped with her after making it appear he was dead, his wife waxed indignant. “Dorothy was an employee to my husband and nothing more,” she declared. “And she also was my very good friend!” Meanwhile, the detectives were uncovering considerable circumstantial evidence to back up their belief that Sailstad was alive. Two boys who said they knew Sailstad by sight professed to have seen him early on the night of the fire emerge from a cemetery a mile and half front, the cottage carrying a box. A woman said she had seen Sailstad, with the same box, quit his automobile at the back door of the cottage and enter it later that same night. A farmer who had driven past the cottage on a near-by road declared he had seen a man and a woman emerge from it about ii P. M. A Nebagamon taxicab driver swore he had driven a couple from the railroad station to Duluth late that night. He said Sailstad was the man. Efforts to find Dorothy Anderson, too, were futile. She had not returned to her home in Chicago, and her relatives there said she had written them she was to be married and would come to see them after the honeymoon. Eventually, however, the detectives unearthed the keeper of a rooming-house in Chippewa Falls who identified pictures of Dorothy as those of a “Mrs. Kingston” who had recently spent two weeks at her place. “Mrs. Kingston” had said her husband was a traveling man, and the man himself had shown up once, driving an automobile similar to that which Sailstad had owned. The couple had been gone a day or two, then the girl had returned and had asked that her trunks be sent to the station. The expressman who took them said he had carried out instructions and shipped them to Duluth. In Duluth they were claimed before a watch for their owner could be established. The detectives seemed to find great significance in the fact that “Kingston” was the maiden name of Sailstad's mother. POLLOWING to the end their theory* that Sailstad had ■** robbed a grave for the bones that were found in the cot- tage, the detectives visited cemeteries for a hundred miles around, but found no grave that revealed any sign of tam- pering. Mrs. Sailstad, having permitted months to elapse, event- ually brought suit in the Federal court at Superior in an effort to collect Sailstad’s insurance. At about the same time the State fire marshal issued a warrant charging Sailstad with arson, and Archie McKay, district attorney of Douglas County, and Coroner D. A. Downs reopened the case in order that pathologists of the University of Wisconsin might examine the bones buried as those of Sailstad. Proving she really believed herself a widow, Mrs. Sailstad in December, 1921 — almost a year and a half after her hus- band had disappeared — married Ross T. Richardson, an oil man of Eau Claire. The first of her suits against the insurance companies went to trial the following September. Against the evidence which the insurance companies’ detectives presented, the attorneys for the former Mrs. Sailstad offered the report of Doctor C. H. Bunting of the University of Wisconsin upon the bones found in the cottage, which had been exhumed following reopening of the case. Doctor Bunting struck a hard blow at the insurance com- panies when he declared that a body , and not bones alone , had been consumed by the fire. The bones were those of a male human being more than twenty-one years old and not yet near the age of senility. The body to which the bones belonged had not Iteen embalmed. X-rays of Sailstad’s teeth, furnished by his dentist, tallied so closely with the teeth of the fire victim as to lea'*e little doubt in the physi- cian’s mind that they were the same. Front the pathologist’s testimony on cross-examination,

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The “ Burning Ghost ” of Lake Nebagamon 63 the insurance company lawyers plucked one tiny fact to console them. Doctor Bunting estimated the height of the dead man to have been around five feet, six inches. Sailstad had lieen taller than that, and the attorneys har|>ed ujx>n that |x>int. The jury required sixteen hours to reach a verdict that the bon**s were those of Sailstad, and to award Mrs. Richard- son the full $10,000 for which the policy called, and interest to the amount of $1,243. The other companies against which suit had l>een entered then offered to settle out of court if the verdict were upheld in the higher court to which the defeated company carried it. Then, in December, 1923, while the apfieal still was j>end- ing, Sailstad and Dorothy Anderson were arrested in the little village of Napa , California! T? C. DOUGHERTY, a Chicagoan who had been a mem- ber of the dinner-dance party on the night when Sail- stad first had niet “The Sunshine Girl/* had seen the couple pass him on the road near Fureka, California, and, thinking he recognized them, had jotted down the license number of their car and telegraphed the Wisconsin authorities. Pacific coast detectives had lieen put on the trail, and they soon learned they were tracking a typewriter salesman and his wife. When they discovered that the couple used the name of Kingston, they knew they were after the right |x?rsons. Always, however, they arrived just liehind their quarry. Apparently the “Kingstons" were headed for San Francisco, and sheriffs in the counties ahead were asked to keep a lookout. Sheriff Joseph Harris finally saw the car parked outside of a grocery store of the village near St. Helena and, walking into the store, took the couple into custody. .Sailstad promptly collapsed, then admitted his identity. Dorothy Ander- son eventually admitted her identity, also hrom the lips of the couple, while they awaited Wisconsin officers, came an amazing confession that explained how the insurance company detectives, cor- rect as they were in believing a grave had lieen robbed to furnish human Ixmes for the burned cottage, had not been able to prove that fact. Ijet Dorothy Anderson’s confession tell the story, beginning with the sum- mer of 1920, when things began to go wrong for Sailstad ’s business: “As his secretary, I knew that Mr. Sailstad ’s finances were in a terrible way. 1 tried to lx: ‘The Sunshine Girl’ 1 had been nicknamed, and I would say to him, ‘Don’t worry! Everything will be all right !* Then I would work as hard as he was doing in an effort to make it come true. “One day Mr. Sailstad said to me that his wife was mis- understanding the fact we were working together and alone until late almost every night. There had l>cen a scene, he said, and he feared that, now it had been called to his atten- tion, others might misconstrue, too. “I wrent to Mrs. Sailstad and a$ked her to believe me that my interest in her husband was only that of an employee. It was true, too. I was not in love with Ed Sailstad — then. His wife said she would lielieve me. ‘I>on’t pay any atten- tion to what I said,* she told me. ‘Ed was grouchy and irritable, and I became upset.’ “A day or two later she came down to the office. Before her, Mr. Sailstad told me he could not use my services any longer. Mrs. Sailstad said she did not want him to do that, and finally he said I could stay. My pride was hurt, how- ever, and 1 insisted upon going. To save myself embarrass- ment, I gave it out that I had been secretly married, and displayed a w’edding-ring I had bought myself. With my two wreeks’ pay I went to Chipjiew a Falls to look for another job. “Several days later Mr. Sailstad sought me out at my morning-house to ask me about some detail of the business. He came once or twice more, and I was able to help him out. As he wras leaving he cried out: “ *1 don’t krnw what 1 am going to do without you!* “I was looking into his eyes at the time, and I knew that he didn’t mean that in a business way alone, for in his face 1 saw what I had never seen when he lcx)ked at his wife — that something with which a man gazes upon the w'oman he loves! “He came again and asked me if 1 would drive to Duluth wfith him. He was so dis- tracted over his busi- ness and he seemed to need a friend so much, 1 agreed to go. Edward J. Sailstad, the respected and well-to-do business man of Eau Claire, Wisconsin, at the time he met Dorothy Anderson “On the way we drove past Nebagamon Cemetery, and the sexton was just leaving. Mr. Sailstad knew' him, and asked him whose funeral wfas just over. He said it was Allen McPhee’s. *1 knew him,’ said Mr. Sailstad: Then as we drove awray he remarked: ‘I wish my body w*as in that grave instead of his!’ “He didn’t say any more, and we drove on to Duluth. wrhere we saw some people who owred him money and tried to collect, but without much success. Mr. Sailstad was more downhearted than ever when we started back toward Chippewa Falls. “As we came abreast of the cemetery again, he stopped the car. For a long time — two hours, I judge — we just sat there and said nothing. He was absorbed in his own thoughts. I didn’t disturb him. Suddenly he straightened up as if he had definitely come to a decision, and said: “ ‘1 am going away, but first 1 am going to do something to make it look like I am dead!’ “Without his telling me, I seemed to know just what it

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64 True Detective Mysteries was he was going to do. When he got out of the car, I got out with him, and we passed into the cemetery among the grave?. An old shovel wras leaning against the fence, and he took it along. “Soon we came to a newly made grave — Allen McPhec’s. Mr. Sailstad began to dig. I stood by, crying to myself and a bit hysterical with the gruesomeness of the thing. Then he stopped to rest and to tie a handkerchief about his hand, which had begun to bleed from contact with the shovel. “I seized it and began to dig, crying and shaking, and he said, lNo,' and took the shovel from me. But the next time he stopped to rest 1 took the shovel again. When I suddenly struck wood — the top of the lx>x in which the casket rested — he took the shovel and after a moment of indecision began prying off the lid. The sound of the nails pulling out of the wood made my blood run cold, and sounded so loud out there in the darkness that we stopped to listen. “'T'HEN he pried off the top of the casket and handed the lid up to me. When 1 had taken it, he reached down and lifted out the l)ody. I don’t know how he had the strength to push it up above his head and lay it on the ground outside the grave. . . . “We went back to the car and got a piece of canvas, and wrapped up the’ body in it. Then Mr. Sailstad put the lid back, and he was so badly shaken I don’t think he realized it was upside down. Desj>er- atelv, then, we began putting the dirt back in the hole, he using the shovel and I my hands. “When the hole was filled up and he had banked it up like w'e had found it, we picked up the Ijody in the canvas, carried it to the gate and across the road, and hid it in a gravel pit on the other side. “Then wre drove slowly back to Duluth, arriving there about dawn. He left me and wrent to see his mother and his mother- in-law for what he believed would be the last time. I met him again at dusk, and w'e drove out into the country and stopj>ed the car, and he told me w'hat his plan was. “ ‘Then I am going away, and I hope no one back here ever will hear of me again,’ he said. ‘I'm going to begin all over!’ “Before I knew' it, I cried out: ‘I’m sick and tired of every- thing, too! Perhaps I’ll go with you!’ “Late that evening we drove back to the gravel pit, got McPhee’s body, put it in the car and drove to the cottage. Mr. Sailstad carried it inside and laid it on the floor. Then I gave him a hand and wfe carried it to the bedroom and laid it on the bed, which Mr. Sailstad pulled from the wall into the middle of the little room. “I stood in the doorway while he put his watch and ring and keys l>eside the body. Then I saw the flare of a match as he touched it to the straw* mattress. He w hirled then, seized me by the hand, and we w*ent through the door and into the night and ran and ran and ran. “We never once looked back or saw the flames or anything. Much of what happened after we fled is but a jumble— a blur of words and acts — upon mv memory. Somehow', we got to Nebagamon, and I recall that we stood in the shadows of the railroad station for quite a little while Indore Mr. Sailstad hailed a cab and had us driven to Duluth. “Mr. Sailstad and I sat up until daylight, silent and nervous. Then I saw that he w'as on the point of collapse, while I seemed to grow stronger. So I insisted that he get a room and lie down, and I had coffee sent up to him. When he fell asleep I went out and to the railroad station, where I fought out the battle w'ith myself as to whether I should cast my lot with his or not. “When my decision was made, I step|>ed up to the ticket window and bought two tickets for St. Paul. We left on the one o’clock train that afternoon. “For days w*e slept only by fits and starts, w'e scarcely pecked at food, and all the time w*e were on the move, never stopping long in any place; seeking a spot where we felt we might settle down in safety — and finding none. In those days, drawn closer by the terrible thing we had done together, I began to love Mr. Sailstad, and although we knew we never could be married we both felt that in the sight of God we wrere really man and wife. “Thus the months passed, and at last we began to believe that after all w'e might be safe enough to get us a little home in sotpe small town and stop that unending jumping from place to place. We were headed for a place we had chosen when the law caught up with us — and here we arc.’’ The warrant charging arson, issued so long Ijefore, was served upon Sailstad, and a similar warrant, newly issued, w'as served upon Dorothy An- derson. DACK in Eau Claire* Sailstad ’s wife, shocked at the news that the man under arrest in Cali- fornia was really her husband, at once separated from Richard- son, the man she had married w'hen she believed Sailstad dead. “To me Ed Sailstad is just as dead as if it were his bones that rest in that grave,’’ she was quoted as saying, “As soon as it can be done, I shall divorce Richardson!” Which, it may be said here, is just what she did. The return of Sailstad and the one-time “SunshineGirl’* to Superior occurred on a Sunday. From Eau Claire and all the surrounding country hundreds made their way to Superior and gathered in a huge throng about the railroad station. Later, w hen the sheriff had tricked them by leaving the train w'ith his prisoners at an outlying point, the crow'ds gathered around the county jail where he incarcerated the prisoners. Human nature is a peculiar thing. Far from being out- raged by the couple’s act in desecrating the grave of McPhee and Sailstad’s desertion of his family, public sympathy was captivated bv the romantic aspects of the affair, by Sailstad’s devotion to his “Sunshine Girl,” by her sacrifice to be with him and her willingness to share (Continued on page J03) Edward J. Sailstad and Dorothy Anderson at the time of their arrest at Napa, California. Note in their faces the effects of the terrific strain they had undergone in their long flight to escape the law him and remarry Mr.

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True Detective Mysteries 65 Mail This A^jforFrceBook Institute of Applied Science, 1920 Snnnyside Avenue, Dept. 14-39 Chicago, Ui. Without any obligation whatever, send me your new, fully illustrated, FREE book of authentic detective tale9, Finger Prints;*1 also full details of your low prices and Easy Pay- ment Plan. THREE bloody finger prints on the cash register ! He might as well have left his calling card — his doom was already written ! These silent witnesses told the story — identified him — convicted him ! Live through these thrilling adventures right with Detective McDonald as he gets Arizona’s first finger print conviction. Mail the cou- pon below and get this gripping story FREE, with 12 others just as exciting! 13 True Detective Stories — FREE! Institute of Applied Science 1920 Snnnyside Ave., Dept.l 4-39 Chicago, 111. Nsme . Address Gripping Mysteries! Gruesome Trag- edies ! Daring Deeds ! Hair - Raising Climaxes ! Every story will thrill you — grip you ! You won’t be able to lay it down until you have finished. Finger Print Experts solved every one of these weird, blood-curdling crimes ! Finger Print Ex- perts gathered in the great big rewards — were appointed to high official positions for their workl Every day more and more trained men are needed. New Bureas of Identification, new positions are opening up all the time. The field is uncrowded! Opportunities are unlimited! YOU can learn Finger Print Identification easily, in a short time — in your spare time — at home! YOU can make $2500 to $10,000 a year as a Finger Print Expert. Find out how you can enter this most thrilling, adventure- some profession and make big money fast ! Big Demand for Trained Men Make *2500 £ 1 0,000 a Year The Knock of Opportunity Is the knock of the postman as he brings this book, “Finger Prints,” to you. It brings you fascinating true detective stories. And more! It tells you how YOU can become a Finger Print Expert quickly and easily — at home, by mail — and at a very small cost — made still easier by our lib- eral Easy Terms. Mail Coupon NOW! Think of itl Real Secret Service Operators give you “inside dope’* on real crime cases. They reveal their secret workings — how they solved big crimes that baffled the police all over the country — how they won handsome rewards! These stories are YOURS FREE! — if you act quick! You would pay a good sum for them at a bookstore or news-stand. Here they are yours— FREE — for the asking. Mail the Coupon NOW ! Send for this Free Book! HeLeft His Calling Card — Telltale Finger Prints!

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66 True Detective Mysteries The Murder in Apartment 65 ( Continued from page 31) brain. The second entered on the vertex of the skull, one-half inch to the left of ihe midline; passed downward and for- ward, crossed over to the right, and was recovered underneath the outer end of tin- left eyebrow. The third entered the left temple region, fracturing the anterior fossa, and came out on the right side on a line with the pinna of the right ear. The fourth wound lay on the left side of the chest, one inch below the nipple, passed backward through the heart and lung and stomach, and was recovered just to the left of the spine in the muscles of the back. I have gone into detail in describing these mortal wounds with a particular pur- pose in mind : They . later went to prove the diabolical ingenuity with which the crime was committed. By gathering a scrap here and there, the various men working on the case from every angle soon presented reports to Deputy Inspector Duane which gave a satisfactory, if incomplete, history of the friendship between Mrs. Maye and An- drew Devolo, who had been identified in the morgue by his brother. Mrs. Maye. when a young war nurse in France, had met a young American sol- dier named Adam Maye, who had been brought to her home by her brother to be nursed back to health. The meeting led to marriage. AS a result of being gassed. Maye developed tuberculosis. The couple came to America, and the young war bride went to work. The record of her success rivals a Horatio Alger story. At the time Devolo was shot, she was earning $135 a week as a dress designer, plu^ two per cent, commissions, and had started a small business of her own. Maye’s best friend was Andrew Devolo, twenty-two years old. When the disease- racked veteran returned to France in search of a cure, all his expenses were paid by his wife, whose devotion to him had frequently !>een commented upon by their neighbors and Iter business associates. Be- fore he left, Maye begged his friend. Andy, to see that she was not lonely. Outside of this liaison, the dead man ap- peared to have been a model youth who was devoted to his parents, and was al- ready well on the road to success. He had a drawing account of $100 a week in a thriving real estate business* lie was build- ing up in partnership with a man named Joseph Wexler. He had persuaded his father to retire from work and enjoy life before he was too old to get any fun out of it, as he put it. I11 the eyes of her employers, Mrs. Maye had an equally excellent reputation. She was a brilliant and original designer, very quiet and reserved in manner, and a favorite with her fellow employees. When the story of the double life she had been living broke into print, all were astounded. Joseph Wexler, the dead boy’s partner, however, made no bones about expressing the black opinion he had of the wounded woman’s character. When the detectives visited him at his home during Sunday forenoon, he didn’t hesitate in saying he believed that Marlyse Maye had mur- dered Devolo. ORDINARILY an alert business man, of the jovial, go-getter type, Wexler appeared to be utterly crushed by the vio- lent death of his partner. “Yesterday morning,” he said, referring to the Saturday preceding the murder, “Mrs. Maye called up our office and asked for Andy. I told her he was out, and she left a message for him to see her that night without fail. T gave it to Andy, and warned him not to go.” “Why did you warn him?” Winter- halter asked. Wexler’s eyes narrowed as lie answered grimly: “There was something in her manner lately that made me fear for Andy’s life. One evening this week he went to a party to which she wasn’t in- vited. She had forbidden him to go. We were driving through Central Park the next day, Mrs. Maye, Andy and I, and Mrs. Maye was reproaching Andy for neglecting her. She was crying and carry- ing on something awful, so that people in the park were staring at us. Andy told her if she didn’t stop bawling, he would put her off the car. '"Vou can’t treat French girls this way — tve know what to do!* she screeched hys- terically. And as she said this she patted a large pocketbook that was lying in her lap. Rut she stopped crying, opened her bag and began making up her face. The pocketbook was gaping wide open while she looked in the mirror . . . and I saw the butt of a gun! “It was after that, that I first warned Andy to have nothing more to do with her. But he only laughed. He was such a gay fellow. He was always laughing and joking.” Wexler further stated that Andy had had an engagement to meet him in New Jersey at 9 o’clock on the night of the murder, and when Andy didn’t show tip by 10 he had become anxious. When he called up the boy’s parents, they had told him that Andy must be on his way over. The next he heard was of the murder. In the minds of Devolo’s family also, there was no uncertainty as to how their boy had met his death. All believed Marlyse Maye guilty. Mrs. Devolo was prostrated by the tragedy. Nevertheless, over the objections of her daughters, who believed the inter- view would be too much for her, she in- sisted upon seeing the detectives. Her bright, black eyes flashed, and her small figure trembled with excitement as she declared that she wanted the “mur- deress” of her son brought to justice. Without a tremor, she opened the conver- sation : “My son he bring her to me first and say, ‘This is a friend of mine in business.' I was. of course, polite to our guest, but when she had left I say to my boy, 4 Is she married ?* He say, 4 Yes.* I say, 4My son. are you keeping company with this woman?* He do not answer. Never has lie told me a lie. I guess !” She nodded her head solemnly, and her lips formed a tight thin line. “I said,” she continued, “Tf you are go- ing out with this woman, keep out of my house! I don’t want to have, anything more to do with you when I know she i* a married woman.’ ” “And then, what did he do?” W inter- halter asked. “For six, seven months, he come home only once a week to get changes of cloth- ing,” she went on in a dead, monotonous voice that had sobs in it. “It break my heart. I grow sick. Then, maybe six, maybe seven weeks ago he begun coming home every night and we all so happy to have my beautiful boy with us again. “Then last night before . , . he . . . die ... he have his dinner here. No, no wine; just tea we drink with our evening meal. Later he drive his father and me to the movie theater and he say, 4 To-night I must go to Jersey on business matter. Home maybe to-night, maybe early to - morroti’. Next they come and tell me my boy is murdered.” ^^UT of consideration for the old lady’s lacerated feelings, W’interhaltcr and Smith questioned her no further at that time. From many other sources, however, they gathered data that showed Mrs. Maye had been afraid that her lover was on the verge of leaving her. The first interview obtained from Mrs. Maye took place during the afternoon of Monday. November 14th. She was still too weak to give more than a brief state- ment, and what she did give told practi- cally nothing. Andy, she said, came to her apartment at the usual hour, 8 1*. m„ on November 12th. He had a toothache, she stated, and had been drinking. While seated on the edge of the bed, he put his hand under the pillow and brought out a revolver that she kept there. She said she tried to get possession of her revolver and suddenly felt a stinging pain in her left side. She said she remembered nothing of what hap- pened after that. She told the detectives she had the revolver for protection, but could not remember where she bought it. In this statement, she escaped the slip- pery plank of Devolo’s shooting himself, and the detectives knew no more than they did before. After she had rested up a bit. Judge McGeehan and Assistant District Attorney Kier (who makes investigations for the homicide department of the District At- torney's office) visited her with a stenog- rapher. To Judge McGeehan’s preliminary greet- ing and questions regarding the pain of her wound, she made no answers. Only the twitching of her hand, held by a pleasant- faced nurse, showed she was alive. 44 Vou had a gun,” the District Attorney said, suddenly changing his tone from one of sympathy to sharp accusation. “In the house,” she evaded cunningly. “I was robbed a year ago . . . the beasts . . . they come to the house again last week. Detective tell me to get a gun because I am always alone.” “Was Andy good and drunk?” ( Continued on page 68)

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'C3: If you are in despair over pimples, blotches, rashes, eczema or other skin trouble, try D.D. D., the pure, cooling liquid. It stops itching instantly. Then penetrates, soothes and heals. Greaseless, stainless, dries at once. Many owe their clear smooth skin to D.D.D. Trial bottle 35c at your druggist; money back if it fails to help you. Or write to D. D. D. Corporation, Batavia, 111. THE HEALINC SKIN LOTION ( Continued from page 66) “He was not quite drunk. He smell of liquor. He brought bottle of whisky and put it on his tooth for toothache. O, me little Andy!” “Don’t cry, Mary,” her questioner said soothingly. “Did you fight with him? Tell me about it.” “Yes,” she said in a weary voice. “Andy said, ‘Let’s elope / and I said, ‘Don’t be foolish .’ His parents objected to me be- cause I am married woman. They foolish. Why not me as well as somebody else?” she asked scornfully. “But I say to him. 0, Andy , there are thousands of girls, but only one mother And he say, ‘Hozv yon like to die with me?* and then I hear pop, pop, pop ! He was a good boy. Why lie do that? He was too sweet” “Did he shoot himself in the head, Mary?” “Oh, yes,” she replied readily. “He was shooting all over himself. He said. 7 kill you , tool * . . . He went like . . . I do not know. I went to get up ... I couldn’t get up . . . He shoot, shoot, shoot, all the time. I say, ‘Stop, stopi ’ Then I feel a pain and all goes black. 1 wake up here.” TN her first statement, Mrs. Maye had ^ skirted on the safe side of an implausi- ble story. In this one, made to the District Attorney, she had slipped into a quagmire of lies. Not only was it impossible for Devolo to have shot himself repeatedly in the head, but according to Doctor Alex- ander O. Goettler, the city toxicologist, an analysis of the brain and stomach showed that there was absolutely no grain or wood alcohol present in the deceased at the time of death. Asked if a small quantity rubbed on a tooth or gum would register in the brain, he gave it as his opinion that it would, as the brain is susceptible to the smallest quantity of alcohol. Judge McGeehan immediately ordered the woman’s removal from the public ward to the prison ward, charged with suspicion of homicide. It was there that she made a third state- ment, insisting that she remembered nothing of the first two — had never before seen Winterhalter, Smith, District Attorney McGeehan nor Kier. This statement put the shooting in an entirely different light and appeared to vindicate Marlyse. However, this was not given out until January 15th, 1928, which was exactly two months and two days after the dis- covery of the murder. During that time, Marlyse was too ill to he taken before the Grand Jury, hut the evidence against her had been accumulating until it looked as if an indictment was inevitable. Or.e thing that puzzled Detectives Win- terhalter and Smith from the beginning was the absence of any “suicide” note. In all their experience with suicide case;, very few human beings, they had found, were either so callous or so friendless as to take voluntary leave of life without leaving a farewell explanatory note. And in spite of her many faults, no one had ever accused Marlyse Maye of being cal- lous, and certainly she was not friendless. Smith clung doggedly to the murder- and-attempted-suicide theory while his colleague believed with the police and Dis- trict Attorney that it was a plain case of murder motivated by jealousy. Smith, then, was jubilant at the next development. A “suicide note” was found. The discovery was made one morning, after the patrolman on guard had reported that a friend of Marlyse’s had attempted to enter the apartment, explaining that the wounded woman had requested her *o go there and pack up her clothes-; at least, that was the reason she gave. The guard naturally refused this request, and she left in an apparently more perturbed state of mind than the refusal of such a simple favor seemed to call for. About the same time, Mrs. Cohn, a sis- ter of the dead youth, applied for permis- sion to take away her brother’s belongings. This was granted, and she visited the mur- der flat in company with Detectives Win- terhalter and Smith. D(JST was thick everywhere. Heavy rain had bespattered the windows, and the cleaner had not been allowed to polish them off, The winter sunlight fil- tered through the grime and lit up the ghastly mementoes of the crime. In picking up the derby hat, referred to earlier in the storv, Mrs. Cohn dis- turbed the dainty linen scarf which covered the dressing-table. There, under the scarf — overlooked by the detectives, and guarded all this time by the simpering, painted French doll — she found a scattered heap of scraps of a torn letter. This was carefully pasted together in a complete pattern. It was in Marlyse’s handwriting, and addressed evidently to her husband. It read as follows: Please forgive me for what l am gone to do, I knozv you zvill hurt but understand me and forgive me, so I am gone to end all this. 1 love A hdy more than life itself. You zvill understand me , and I hope you come back, you zvill avenge me, because he is responsible for what gone happen. I can’t no stand that any longer , so it is better for me to go. I am tired of living this way, I love Andy and he told me he loves me too. Yon send all my clothes to my mother, and please , siveetheart, be- cause you still my siveetheart, you still dear to me, a strange , . . . [here a part is missing] . . . he being but it . . . [another part missing] . . . his family drive me to do what / am gone. He still ozve me some money, 500 or 600 hundred. 1 really don’t know but, please, Adam siveetheart, don’t grieve so much. Life isn’t zuorth. Come back live with mama aitd be happy. Console her. Never told her this. Think of me once in a while and forgive me, darling. / give you my best kisses and love. Always your zvific. Mackie May. [Here a line was drawn across the page and under this the letter said, “Give my Criqui to Leone.” — “Criqui” being, as we learned, Marlyse’s cat.] The deceased’s partner, Joseph Wexler, when questioned about the money men- tioned in this letter, told the detectives that Andy had spoken of having received a loan from his sweetheart, but he had had no idea that it was for such a large amount.

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True Detective Mysteries 69 Detective Snaeble had fully corroborated what Marlyse said about the gangsters who had robbed her. They were, he said, a very tough mob and their pals were quite capable of taking the most drastic measures to prevent her testifying against young Pete McCarthy, who w as being held as a suspect on her charge of having been robbed and criminally assaulted a year before. MARLYSE was too clever a young woman, we thought, to expect the authorities to accept her preposterous statement. But if she had wanted to lie merely to protect herself, why had she not accused the gangsters of doing the shooting ? An answer to this question was sug- gested in the defense of the first two of the gang who had been caught and sent up. They stated that the Frenchwoman had made their acquaintance in Columbus Circle, had invited them to her home, and the “assault” was the result. What the detectives were seeking in their underworld trails was confirmation of this allegation. Was it possible that in fear that an- other liaison might be discovered, she was shielding someone until he had an oppor- tunity to escape? The reports handed in hinging on this angle of the investigation make interesting reading, but they are too voluminous to cover in the short space of this story. This brings us back, then, to the morn- ing on which Mrs. Maye made her third statement in the presence of the detec- tives and the District Attorney, which was taken down by a stenographer. She started off by detailing the robbery and assault of the year before. Then about a week before the shooting, she said, she had found a note under her door when she returned home from work. It was signed by Detective Snaeble and asked her to call him up. “Mr. Snaeble,” she went on, “he say, ' Marlyse , 1 have good news for you .’ I say, 9 Oh, what is it?* He say, ’We’ve got the third wan .’ I almost fall. I say, ‘You do have him?’ He say, 9 Yes,9 and I say, ' Dear , no / He say, ' You have to come down and identify him. Can you come Monday ?’ I say, ’Yes,’ and he ask me about permit. He say he will have it made right. “I told him that two nights before someone had tried to break into my home. Bell ring near midnight, and I know it is not Andy, because Andy haye key. I ask, ’Who is it?’ A rough voice say, ’ A friend of yours.9 I say, 9 A friend of mine? Who is it?’ He say: ’Don’t be so smart. We knozv you have had the other man arrested. If you identify him or testify against him, that is going to cost you something ! You will be sorry some day! If you keep the mouth shut, zee give you money to take long trip,’ “I do not answer. I got scare. I listen. I hear them talk in the hall, low. There is more than one. “They come twice more with threat. I go to court to identify man but the case is adjourned. My friend, Leone Kemp, go with me. She leave me one little in- stant to telephone. 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70 the crime, the sick woman went on : “Andy came before eight. I was lying down. He come in ancf say : ‘Hello, sweet- heart!* I ask him, ‘What is the matter, you are so pale?* ‘Oh,’ he says, *1 have tooth that ache. You look sick yourself. I say, ‘I am.* “We go in parlor. He rubbed whisky on the tooth. I ask him if he had good time at the party Thursday night, and he said, ‘Not so good. You know, honey, I never enjoy myself when you are not with me.* He told me of two Jewish girls at the party. His mother tried to make him like one. I said: “‘Andy, dear, this has to stop. If you fight with your mother over me, you can t see me. You can have twenty sweethearts, but only one mother.* “Andy said, ‘No. They can hang them- selves. I love you / “Then he sees a letter I have written my husband. He reads it, and tears it up. He says, ‘Aren’t you foolish?* He took me in his arms and kisses me. ‘Honey, I love you. Why don’t you sell your furn- iture? We’ll go away.* I told him: ‘I have husband. He was my first lover, and he is good to me. I do love you, too, hut different.’ “We talk a little and go in bedroom. He speak of gun, and I tel! him I keep it under the pillow. “‘It might go off,’ he says. “ ‘That could not lie,’ I said. ‘It has safety on.* “But he takes it and puts it on buffet. The light is out . . . Sudden I hear a noise. I think first it is Criqui, my cat. Then I see a shadow. I scream, and say to Andy, ‘Honey, somebody is in the room. Quick, get the gun off the bureau!* “He runs to the shadow. They fight. I do not know what is to happen. There is a bang ! I run between them, for I do not know who has the gun — whose hand it is. Somebody throw me down near the door. When I get up. I am in Fordham Hospital.** She denied that she had ever called out, ‘. Indy, don't shoot me,” claiming that she had a vague recollection of begging the intruder: “ Don't shoot me (my) Andy!” BEFORE this statement was taken down for her to sign, the District At- torney had bombarded her with questions, one fired hot on top of the other. Part of her statement is unprintable, but taken all in all, it was mighty plausible when isolated from the facts picked up by de- tectives during their investigation. Of those, of course, she was entirely igno- rant. Her stories, the reader will remark, veered about like a weather-vane. If this last was to be her defense, we could punc- ture it easily enough ! What the two. Marlyse and Andy, ac- tually discussed on that fatal evening, only she could tell us, since the lips of the other were sealed by death. However, in the first place, we had the word of Doctor Goettler that there was absolutely no alco- hol present in the brain of the dead man, so the oft-repeated story of alcohol cure for toothache was a fabrication in the face of scientific evidence. Second, she refers in her statement to the party Andy had attended in a way that would make it seem as if that were the the first time they had discussed it : wherea« wc had True Detective Mysteries Wexler’s word for it that they had quar reled violently over it the day before. Third, she tried to make it appear that she was the one who was trying to break off the liaison ; whereas wc had state- ments from four reliable sources that Andy was planning to leave her, and that she was madly jealous of him. Fourth, it was mighty improbable that a gangster would visit her apartment un- armed, depending on finding a weapon in the apartment. Fifth, since Andy had himself, accord- ing to her own statement, placed the gun on the dresser, there was no need to tell him where it was. Sixth, while the manner in which the gunshot wounds were scattered about the upper part of the dead boy’s torso and head did suggest a struggle in the dark, the location of the empty shells proved that he 7 vas reclining on the bed when shot. Also, it was not likely that if Andy was the one who had torn up the letter, he would hide the pieces. After I had thoroughly digested all the foregoing. I came to the conclusion that Marlyse Mayc was far too bright to imagine for a moment that any of these statements would be believed. Her cun- ning was shown in the clumsy lies woven in and out of probable facts. / teas convinced that these stories liaU al! been concocted and thought out care- fully while she zcas planning the crime, working herself into a fury of rage on the nights Andy didn't shenv up. Mental confusions are common in cases of shock. As a war nurse, Mrs. Maye had come into contact with many shell- shocked soldiers and was familiar with the incredible accounts they give of the most ordinary happenings. HER scheme was, I figured, to offer so many contradictory explanations of what took place in Apartment 65 on the night of the murder, that a very reasonable doubt would be aroused in the minds of the jury, as to whether or not the police had properly investigated every lead sh^ gave them. My further conclusions ran something like this: Andy Devolo*s doom had been sealed the moment he became friendly with Marlyse Maye. All during their associa- tion, death lurked near-by. On the night he attended a party against her wishes, his sentence was pronounced. The complaints made at the station-house were part of her plan. The three young gangsters af- forded her an excellent opportunity to create imaginary threatening pals. No one ever heard those threats but herself, though they were shouted through a locked door from a public hall — and in a crowded court-room. The pistol she said Andy had urged her to buy for protection, was purchased a couple of days before the murder. While there was no one to cor- roborate these statements, there was on the other hand, none to deny. Also, she claimed that “the shadow** crept in through an open window : yet none of the neigh- bors had heard the fusillade of shots! Still, with all this overwhelming mass of circumstantial evidence against her, she might yet beat the case. Much depended on her own attitude. Her own bullet wound was, true enough, a very serious one. but it had, T thought, been “planted” carefully. I didn’t believe in the mur- der-and-attempted-suicide theory, which would have had much influence in swaying the jury in the defendant’s favor. Had the woman really intended to kill herself, 1 reasoned, she would not have staged the “gangster shooting” death scene so craft- ily ! One point that puzzled me was how, if she were guilty, she had managed to sup- press her guilt all throughout her delirium, the genuineness of which no one could ques- tion. A celebrated alienist explained this to me. His answer was that if the woman had lived for some time with the idea of kill- ing Andy rather than lose him to another woman, her subconscious mind would re- act so strongly to the story she had pre- pared, that it would act out her plan with- out requiring aid front the conscious mind. Consequently, even in her delirium, she would be capable of guarding her tongue from betraying her guilt. All this was my belief, but belief is not proof. The evidence was sufficient, how- ever, to convince the Grand Jury. Marlyse Maye was indicted for murder in the first degree, charged with the kill ing of her lover, Andrew Devolo. AS time went on, Marlyse became a great favorite in the hospital. She showed herself sweet and tractable, and as she was able to sit up. spent her time in making flowers to brighten up the place and in sewing odds and ends for the patients and nurses. An indictment is a million miles away from a conviction, and if she exhibited ibis sweet, philanthropic attitude in cour. I would have a mighty hard time in prov- ing the tigerish nature that I thought slumbered beneath a fair and gentle ex- terior. What I required above all things was sympathy for the victim — I was de- termined that 1 would have this. Before the trial started, I had a waxen effigy (see picture on page 31) made of the dead youth, clad only in the bright-green socks and yellow shoes he had been wearing at the time of his death. It was, I admit, a gruesome figure. Crayon marks on it in green, red and black showed the entrance, course and exi* of the bullets that had been fired into the body. This we intended to exhibit in court. The trial opened on November 30th. 1928 — more than a year after the crime- before Judge Albert Cohn in the Bronx County Court. Mrs. Maye was brought into court sit- ting in an invalid’s wheel-chair. She was a pathetic figure, coughing almost con- tinually and collapsing every now and again into the waiting arms of a police matron. Site would have held all the honors by the end of the first act 1 mean, the first day of the trial — had it not been for her damning pride and un- governable temper. Speaking to reporters who gathered around with pencils ready to pick up her sob story, she said snappily: “I am fighting for my life. I am an American citizen because I marry Amer- ican man. but I am not an American woman — I am French girl, and I do no* want sympathy, but justice!** Naturally, that statement brought no ap- plause, and as soon as I saw the claws coming out I congratulated myself that {Continued on page 72)

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Her defense counsel, in contending that Marlyse had been shot and had not shot herself, made much of the apparent fact that she had become paralyzed as a re- sult of her wound. I claimed, and honestly believed, that her paralysis was faked, as much as her stories had been. In rebuttal, Mrs. Maye’s attorneys placed a psychiatrist and a neu- rologist on the witness-stand, who ex- plained the various tests to which the de- fendant had submitted. It may be in- teresting to the reader to know what these were, so I will quote from their testimony. HE question put was : “Doctor, when you try to find out if a person is malingering, what test do you put the patients through to ascertain whether or not they are malingering?” “A person,” answered the doctor, “that malingers, will not like to be tested too often. They will avoid a test; they usually like to put their fake through, their bluff through, the simulation, without being tested too much. They are consciously fak- ing. It is a conscious mind, and they feel the pain and therefore they do not like examination. Whereas a hysterical person is not consciously feeling the pain. It is entirely a subconscious association of their thoughts and they like to be tested — I should not say enjoy, but they do not mind being tested.” Asked for the results of the tests on Marlyse, he said : “I tested the defendant for sensation by the pulling of her skin, and on the right there was a complete loss of feeling, a complete anesthesia, and also half of the body, including the face and tongue. On the left side above the waist, above the leg, including the face, tongue and the eye. “The eye is the most sensitive test. I could put cotton there. I pulled down the eyelash and rubbed the eyeball with a piece of cotton. In a normal person, the eye would close. That is the strongest reflex in the body. There was no reflex. Then I stuck a needle in her eye. There was no response. “I put a safety-pin right through the flesh of her leg on the left side up to the middle, and that also was completely dead; also the left arm. Another typical thing about hysterical people is that w’hen you put a pin through the flesh, they do not feel it and there is no blood, or there is very little. “She got very excited when she was asked to tell the doctor her life history. She screamed, and tried to scratch every- body— her counselor, Judge Delagi, and me — and kept crying that she wished she had died when she was shot. Then she would calm down and smile, which is an- other thing a malingerer will not do. They overdo the act. Hysterical paralysis is produced by a very severe emotional re- action.” MRS. MAYE’S tempestuous outbursts, however, had a very bad — or good — effect on the jury. Time after time her counsel was obliged to appeal to the court to order her to restrain herself. Her rage appeared to be ungovernable — a smol- dering rage which every now and then burst into flame when a witness for the prosecution said something that dis- pleased her. Adam Maye, her war veteran husband, had crossed from France to be by her side. He came to court from a hospital at Rut- land, Massachusetts, at the risk of his life. “She was more than good to me,” he told reporters loyally. “I love her very much !” The trial had started on November 30th, and the jury retired at 10 o’clock in the morning of December 13th to consider the verdict. Mrs. Maye had in the interim sneered and screamed herself into the dis- favor of everyone except her faithful hus- band and her loyal friend, Leone Kemp. W i thin five and a half hours a verdict of guilty of manslaughter in the first degree was brought in . “The verdict in the opinion of the court is a correct one,” the judge said, address- ing the defendant. “You killed Andrew Devolo while you were in a transport of rage and jealousy. There can be no justification for the crime you committed. I am not unmindful of your physical con- dition and of the surrounding circum stances which culminated in this unfortu nate occurrence.” He then sentenced her to from five to ten years in Auburn State Prison for Women. When her war veteran husband heard the verdict, he buried his face in his hands and a convulsive shudder shook his disease- worn body. Marlyse Maye collapsed into the arms of her attendant, and was carried from the court-room. From last reports she is “doing very well” in Auburn, and is a model prisoner. Both the mother and sweetheart of the dead boy won what they had asked for — Justice 1 Who Murdered Mrs. Small? A STRANGE night fire ravaged the cottage of Mr. and Mrs. Frederick L. Small, at Lake Ossipee, New Hampshire. When they searched the ruins, detectives found the charred body of Mrs. Small— a piece of familiar- looking cord , of peculiar design, knotted tightly about her neck! 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True Detective Mysteries 73 My Battle with Coffey — Infamous Butcher of Women ( Continued from page 37) other good, elderly, Christian woman I know should suddenly appear on the street with rolled socks and a cigarette, flirting with whoever would flirt wi.h her, it couldn’t shock me as much as this did to find my sister-in-law so changed ! I could almost swear she didn’t write those letters if it wasn’t for her signature. Then, too. 1 bought ten shares of stock in the Elrov Service Oil Company at fifty dollars a share from her while she was at Ashe- ville, and the deal was made by mail, so we know she was there, and we know her signature.” “What do you want me to do about this?” I asked. “'C'lND her and St. Claire, if possible, r It’s for Mr. Coffey’s sake. We all feel that if we can talk to Hattie we can make her see this St. Claire guy in his true light, and then she will be glad to repent and go back to Mr. Coffey. His heart is broken, and we know he will be glad to forgive her and take her back, because he loved her so.” “The only thing I can do is to broad- cast their description and ask the police to pick them up and notify me.” “No, no, we can’t do that ! Our folks at Rockford didn’t try to trace them through the local police there because we wanted to avoid publicity. They knew you and I were friends, and thought we might start a silent hunt from this end. You can sec the damage it will do to Mr. Coffey if his name gets linked with a scandal of this kind. He is so well known in religious circles that even though blameless in this case, it is going to make things mighty embarrassing for him.” “Well, I can tell you right now that you have no chance of finding them ! The chances would be slim enough even with a general broadcast and pictures of them in the newspapers. It is a long time now since they eloped, and Asheville is a long way from here. Nevertheless, I’ll do what 1 can and begin a quiet search in Chicago for them, because her letter states he is a Chicago man.” “That’ll be fine, and if we don’t get any results, maybe we can think of some other way.” “Give me a description of this St. Claire,” I said, as I got out a form. “I can’t do it. I’ve never seen the man, and Hattie never described his looks other than to say he was handsome.” “Hmmh,” — I grinned wryly — “there are probably a million St. Claires in this coun- try. and yet I’m supposed to pick one of them without a description! . Well, we’ll just have to work from a description of Hattie, then. Can you get in touch with Mr. Coffey and get St. Claire’s de- scription?” “No, I can’t, because no one knows where Mr. Coffey is at present. He said he was going into seclusion because of the grief in his heart, and we haven’t Be aRadioExpert Ive trained hundreds of fellows at home in thei r spare time forBigRay Radio Jobs. 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My discreet inquiries in the course of the next few days regarding the wanted couple, brought no clue to their where- abouts, and it was almost a week later be- fore I again heard from Ernest. He made another long-distance telephone call. “We have heard from Mr. Coffey,” he announced. “Mr. J. A. Handel, secre- tary of the oil company here in Elroy, says Mr. Coffey has written him stating he is now the owner of the remaining ten shares that Hattie owned, and wanted to be notified when the next stockholders’ meeting would be held.” “I see,” I replied. “Well, Ernest, if you can get his address, write him for a description of St. Claire and mail it to me 1” When I hung up, I thought about what Ernest had said, and it sounded rather queer to me. I went to the file and took out the two letters Hattie had written. In one of them she stated that Coffey had turned over almost everything he pos- sessed to her, including his bonds, the money from the Detroit home and the jewelry. And here Coffey wrote in to say that he was owner of bonds that be- longed to Hattie. Those two letters just didn't seem to fit . I sat back and let my mind dwell on what Ernest had told me. Now, as I look back on it, I realize it was a dumb animal — a dog — that first “suspected” Coffey. Even then, the remark of Ernest’s that made the greatest impression on me was his saying that the family bulldog had taken a violent dislike to Coffey. I HAVE a great deal of faith in that strange sense that dogs have, and for a very good reason. I own an American bull terrier of a fighting strain. Because of so many new faces coming and going about the jail, he has become friendly to everyone. But he has one aversion, and that is for butchers. If -a butcher comes near him, he growls a warning; and I know if one tried to pet him, he’d tear his arm off. I recall one instance when a retired butcher from another town, who hadn’t been inside a meat shop for more than three months, was visiting a friend in our town. Everyone in our town knew of my dog’s hatred for butchers, so we de- cided to try him out on this fellow. We explained to him that we just wanted to see if Bob — my dog— could tell if he had been a butcher or not. As he walked toward the dog with out- stretched hand and speaking soft words, Bob stiffened to an alert position, and the hair bristled along his back. He bared his fangs and a deep, throaty snarl, suffi- cient warning for anyone, rumbled from his throat ! Now, how did the dog know? Surely there was no blood or meat smell about this man! My belief is that some instinct or sense unknown to man told the dog that this man had at one time killed and cut up dumb animals, and Bob just wasn’t going to take any chances ! So it is easy to understand why I thought there might be something wrong with Coffey when I heard that the family pet didn’t like him. That, and the ap- parently conflicting parts of Hattie’s let- ter and Coffey’s letter to the oil company, prompted me to begin a quiet little inves- tigation of my own. I sent out some questionnaires to per- sons I felt sure should know just what his character was. The replies I re- ceived brought a sheepish grin to my face, and made me glad I had conducted the investigation, thus far, alone. A high city official of La Crosse said that Coffey was a fine example of a true Christian, and that he was devoting his life to making life pleasanter for others. He had recently addressed the Civic Club of La Crosse, soliciting funds for pris- oners uplift. “He is a brilliant speaker, and well liked by everyone who comes in contact with him,” this letter said. THE minister of a Congregational church in Milwaukee wrote me that Coffey was very active in church work. He showed a “wonderful knowledge of the Bible,” and because of his organizing of Bible classes and his activity in Sun- day school work, had left a most favor- able impression in Milwaukee. The minister of a Presbyterian church in Asheville, North Carolina, said that Coffey was a good Christian and a credit to any community. The officials of the welfare association for which he was raising funds said he was their most valued worker and above reproach. His pleasing personality and energetic ways had done more for the association than probably any other per- son connected with it, they declared. I felt thoroughly rebuked by such re- plies. Served me right, I thought, for sticking my nose into something that didn’t concern me ! A few days later Ernest telephoned again. “Mr. Coffey will be here in Elroy Jan- uary twenty-first, to attend a stock- holders’ meeting. Can you come down and interview him, and get a description of St. Claire?” I was genuinely annoyed. I thought he was taking an unfair advantage of our friendship. At first I was tempted to tell him to start his investigation in Asheville, where the elopement occurred. Instead I said: “I’m going to be busy Friday, so you get the description and mail it to me!” I said this merely to satisfy him. If he had sent me the description, it was my intention to file it and forget about the whole mess. Thursday noon, however, Ernest drove up to my office and said that Coffey had arrived in Elroy. Urgently he pleaded with me to drive back with him. Some- what reluctantly, I agreed. I decided I might as well get the business over with. When I was introduced to Coffey, the only way I can express my reaction to him is to say, I was dumb and awed. I have never been troubled with an inferi- ority complex. In fact, I have to be on my guard constantly to curb a desire to be chesty, or cocky. I have sat in con- ference with the Governor, eminent

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True Detective Mysteries 75 It9s Like a j£P Gift at judges, heads of industries and other “big men,” and have never felt diffidence be- yond that natural to youth and inexperi- ence. But in the presence of Coffey, I was uneasy and embarrassed. If I had suddenly been set down in front of the Pope, I believe I would have felt more at ease. Coffey was about five feet, nine inches tall, with a clear eye and a firm face that was tempered with just the right amount of benevolent kindliness. Inwardly, I felt relieved that he had not learned of my foolish attempts to investigate his char- acter. Small wonder that this man could sway and hold vast audiences spellbound ! He had personality plus, and the very air around him seemed charged with his magnetism. His well-modulated voice and the clear, incisive way he clipped off each word when he spoke, would drive home his ideas through the thickest of skulls. WE chatted with him about various topics without mentioning our real purpose. He was a fascinating conversa- tionalist. Before I knew it, the afternoon was almost gone. I jumped to my feet and, without preamble, told Coffey what I wanted. “We would like to get a description of Mr. St. Claire. Mr. Coffey. I’ve given Ernest my promise that the investigation will be kept very quiet so as not to em- barrass you in any way.” A pained look came into his face as he glanced from one to the other of us. Then he showed a true Christian spirit of self-sacrifice. “Gentlemen, I beg of you not to bring up this subject. My thoughts are only of Hattie, and you will never understand the pain in my heart. She loves this Mr. St. Claire and is happy with him, I am sure. Her happiness is my only concern, and I am willing to sacrifice everything so long as she is so. Although my heart is broken. I’ve decided to quietly divorce her and let her be free to marry the man she loves. She can never be happy with me again after knowing him.” He gulped and swallowed convulsively to keep back the tears. His attitude made a deep impression on me. What a noble spirit ! Nothing mattered, not even his own bleeding heart, so long as the woman he loved was happy / felt actu- ally bitter toivard this faithless woman and the treacherous St. Claire who would betray this good man. I didn’t press him any further. Ernest and I went to a restaurant for a meal, and then he drove me back to Mauston During the ride I couldn’t get my mind off the case. I was obsessed with a burn- ing desire to capture this scoundrel, St. Claire, and make him pay in some meas- ure for the injury he had done Coffey. Back in my office, I took out Hattie’s two letters again to see if I couldn’t piece together some sort of a description of St. Claire from what they contained. 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The entire case has a lock comer construction —the best known. Above the small mirror is an attractive floral decoration in rich colors which en- hances the quality appearance. It’s the latest style! When open, the large writing section has 5 com- partments for stationery, paper, etc. The Chifforobe is large size. 63 in. high, 39 in. wide, 18 in. deep. The small mirror measures 12 x 16 in.: the large mirror 14x38 in. Both of clearest plate glass. Save money, save apace, save steps, save work— order today. Send only $1. Useitasyourownfor30 days FREE. If you are not entirely satisfied return it and we w ill cheer- fully refund your money and trans- portation charges both ways. Shipped direct from factory to you. Order No. CAX014- Rich Brown American Walnut finish. Sale Price Ilf.fS* ft cash, it monthly. ♦Spear 6-Co.* Dept. M-t* Pittsburgh, Pa. Home Furnishers to the People of America for 36 Years ■ SPEAR & CO., Dept. M-66 , Pittsburgh, Pa. • Please send me at once the Chifforobe as described above. S Enclosed is 11 first payment. It is understood that at the ■ end of 30 days trial, if 1 am satisfied, 1 will send you ■ $2 monthly. Order No. G A 2014. Sale price $19.95. ■ Title remains with you until paid in full. and handsome, I was unable to discover a thing. When I had finished reading the second letter, I glanced down at Mrs. Coffey’s signature. Across the o in “Coffey” was a thin, fine line that looked as if a fiber of the paper had caught in the pen point (Continued on page 78) Each case is equipped with a sliding metal hanger bar and 2 garment hangers. Great big mirror on wardrobe door. The over- size wardrobe section is amply large enough to hold several suits— and dresses, besides. Room for all the family’s clothes. Keep your clothes neat— keep your bedroom neater by keeping clothes out of the way— and out of sight. Stores shoes, too. 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76 True Detective Mysteries cj4 Life tiryve of P l e a, s' e To'v . . . Story Stoiy Sto^y Story Classics Classics Classics classics SUwy Stwy stray Stoay tTa»cs rJassks aasdcs Clafffcs VOL.D voun vol.it V0L.H MOLXn V0L.T2III V0L.lT zssz.-. ate ,%£££ zzzz. djgf dp. So, for many months, in answer to this tremendous de- mand, an especially appointed editorial staff has been at work under the personal supervision of Beroarr Macfadden, founder of True Story, studying and weighing every story in the entire back file of the magazine with the view to bringing together into one great set of published volumes, the epoch making stories, masterpieces, of a new literature, which have made True Story the most popular and sought after maga- zine in all the world. OUTSTANDING among the stories published in True Story Magazine are many of infinite power and charm. Such stories do not die. The memory of them lingers. Sooner or later the desire to reread them is born. Thousands who have never read them wish to read them with the result that we have long been in receipt of a constant stream of letters inquiring why the wonderful stories that originally appeared in True Story have not been published in book form? “ Third and Last Call ! Mabel . Come on in to Bridge. You* re holding up the game !*’ And now their work is done — their labor ended. This magnificent collection which has been named True Story Classics is an accomplished fact. It consists of fifteen glorious volumes of over three hundred pages each, printed on an excellent quality book stock, heavily cloth-bound and with artistic lettering — a credit and an ornament to any library upon the shelves of which it is placed. Here, brought to- gether into one set of 15 magnificent Vol- umes, is the very heart of True Story M a g a z i n e — t h e stories which by their power and charm, their vivid portrayal of the joy and tragedy of life are directly re- sponsible for True Story being the most popular Magazine that the world has ever seen. True Story Masterpieces*

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True Detective Mysteries 77 Stories That Will Live Forever What a wealth of thrillingly gripping reading matter of the sort you like the best! Included in each volume is a full sized true story novel that ran in serial form in True Story Magazine, a shorter true story novel that ran in two or three part form in True Story and a large collection of short true stories. In all thirty full sized novels or novelettes and scores and scores of shorter true stories - -an almost endless supply that goes back to the very* beginning of True Story Magazine. Think What This Means to You What pleasure and satisfaction to be able to live over again the very best of the wonderful hours already spent with True Story and hundreds of other hours reading other equally absorb- ing stories that you have never read before, stories to which you will be glad to return time after time as the years pass — truly a lifetime of pleasure. And if you have growing children, what an advantage to have right at hand such stories as these, containing wonderful life lessons that will pound home with living examples the great truths of life! Free Examination Offer All the written descriptions, all the illustrations that can be set down on pa|>er cannot convey to you one half so graphically as a personal examina- tion the infinite amount of pleasure and satisfaction that awaits you between the covers of these fifteen splendid volumes. We want you to sec True £ Story Classics, to leaf through the thousands of “ pages, to note the myriad beautiful illustrations, to read a few of the countless true stories, each a masterpiece of the new literature which when intro- duced by True Story Magazine ten years ago took the heart of the world by storm. And so that you may examine them without any feeling of obligation or restraint we will gladly forward them for your personal examination upon receipt of your simple request without one penny of advance payment and not even a deposit when the postman delivers them to you. A coupon is provided for your convenience. All that is necessary to bring this magnificent set of books to your home is that you sign and mail it to us. When you receive the set keep it for ten days. Examine it carefully — bask in the lure and glory of some of the powerfully compelling, gloriously thrilling tales you will find there — true tales from the world over for which many thousands of dollars in prizes was originally paid. And then decide “/« just a minute, dear. As soon as 1 finish this story. I can’t stop in the middle, it’s too exciting. And John, we must get these wonderful True Story Classics for our own library. They’re fasci- nating.” deliberately, quietly, thoughtfully whether or not you wish to keep it. It is because we feel so sure that you will keep the 9et that we are not only willing but eager to send it to you without.any condition except that if for any reason you decide not to make True Story Classics a permanent addition to your library you return it in good condition within ten days after the post- man delivers it to you. On the other hand, if upon examination, you agree with us that it is worth many times the moderate price which has been set upon it. send us, within ten days after receipt, an initial remittance of $2.00 and $3.00 each month there- after for nine months — truly a phenomenally low price for an infinite amount of pleasure. No Finer, No More Appreciated Christmas Gift Can Be Given Your Loved Ones Than A Set Of These Supreme True Story Classics. Macfadden Publications, Inc. 1926 Broadway, New York. I would like to examine at your risk True Story Classics in 15 volumes. Please mail me a set without obligation to me except that if 1 decide not to keep it I will return it in good condition within ten days after receipt and that in the event I decide to keep it I will send you an initial remittance of $2.00 within ten days after receipt and $3.00 monthly thereafter for nine months. Dept. T.D. 12 1 Name. . . Occupation . Residence. . Employed at | Business Address. With all my heart I recommend True Story Classics to every lover of true stories as being a superb collection of true story masterpieces — the best and finest of all the incomparable true serials , novelettes and short stories that have appeared in True Story Magazine since its inception ten years ago. The Co^t, of Three E is Out/.

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From this circular you can choose the frame which wc are giving with every enlargement ordered in colors. On arrival of picture pay postman only 49c plus a few pennies postage or send 50c with order and we will prepay postage. If not delighted we will refund your tnonev. Pfl/rW BEAUTIFULLY CARVED FRAME— A. * W CfXw inducement to acquaint you with the hish quality of our work, we'll frame every enlarge- ment done In Pa»tel Water Color* — ABSOLUTELY GIVEN — during thia rate only. DON'T PUT IT OFF! MAIL YOUR PHOTO NOW| I ART I c ARTWAY STUDIOS. Room 2 Cragin Bank, Chicago, III. Pleas* send enlargements from enclosed photo. I will pay postman 4®c plus postage for each I enlargement, fir 60c caah for each enlargement is enclosed with this order, ws pay postage.) Name—.—- ................ — .. • Address...... | Town Check Size I Wanted < □ 11 x 14 In. I □ 8 x 10 in. I :zj {Continued from page 75) in writing, and had loosened and stuck there. Absent-mindedly, I scratched it with my finger-nail, and discovered it was just an ink mark, with no fiber in it. The other letter lay on the table beside the one I was reading, and I glanced over at it. There was no purpose in my mind when I did so, but when I looked at the signature, the o with the same identical hair line across it leaped out at me. I sat there looking from one letter to the other for some time, before I grasped the sig- nificance of it. Still, I was hesitant about jumping to a rash conclusion, after hav- ing blundered around so foolishly in this case by investigating Coffey’s character- just because a dog didn’t like him. AT any rate, as I studied those signa- tures I thought jt mighty odd that Hattie’s pen should have made the same scratch in the same letter in both names. Besides, one letter had been written four days later than the other. I found my- self longing for a magnifying-glass so that I could examine it as the story-book detectives do. I have a friend in town who is an ex- pert at the study of handwriting, and is often called upon to testify in court cases. I took the letter over to him. It didn’t take him five minutes to tell me the sig- natures were made with a rubber stamp. The stamping was cleverly done, how- ever, and only an expert could detect it. I would never have known of it but for that letter 0. Back in my office I pondered over this phase of the case. Nothing to really get excited about yet, I decided. Mrs. Coffey had a perfect right to sign her name with a rubber stamp if she wanted to. Still, unless she had a great deal of signing to do, one would think she would use a pen. Suddenly I recalled that Ernest had said he had purchased some stock from her. She couldn’t use a rubber stamp on a certificate of transfer, because that was illegal and the certificate had to be signed in person. It was worth checking up, however, so I called Elroy and talked to Ernest. “Have you still got those stocks you purchased from Hattie?” I asked. “Yes," he replied. “Well, I’ve discovered something that might turn out mighty important, or may not he worth a whoop. If you want to check into it, hurry up here with those certificates and we’ll soon find out!” “Be there in an hour,” he said as he hung up. When Ernest handed the certificates to me. I glanced at the signature. My heart missed a beat when I saw that same identi- cal o with its defect. A rubber stamp had been used here , also / I went into details in explaining my discovery to Ernest. "Phew-w!” he whistled. “There’s something wrong, here!” We drove over to the home of District Attorney Clark and laid the facts be- fore him. He felt as we did — that there was something shady about those signa- tures. Neither Ernest nor I could be con- vinced that Coffey was connected with the “forgery” in any way, but the District Attorney, who had never met or heard of Coffey, saw differently. “Coffey is the only one who can clear this up,” he said, “so we must get some- thing to hold him on. If he won’t re- main for questioning of his own free will, we will have to take him into custody. The signatures on your certificates are proved forgeries, and if his certificates are signed with the same rubber stamp, they are forgeries also. We will get Mr. Handel to call in the stock for record- ing, and in that way get a look at the ten shares Coffey is holding without his knowledge. If the signatures on those arc rubber-stamped, we will play safe, and you, Ernest, swear out a warrant charging him with forgery ! We won’t serve it unless he refuses to submit to questioning.” Ernest somewhat reluctantly agreed. O11 the way to my office, he told me that his folks would never forgive him for do- ing it. “I’m due for an awful calling-down from the whole family if they ever find out I swore out a warrant for Mr. Coffey. They fairly worship him, and wouldn’t want to do anything to embarrass him.” “Don’t worry about that,” I told him. “If Coffey is all right, he will be only too glad to help us straighten this out. Personally, I feel as you do — that Coffey is all right. But we might uncover some crooked work this St. Claire has been up to. This is getting interesting now, so let’s see it through to a finish!” As we expected, the stock held by Cof- fey also bore the forged signature of Hattie. We had worked quietly, so, with the exception of Handel, secretary of the oil company, no one knew the real reason for calling in the stock. WE made an appointment with Coffey and went to his hotel to interview him. As District Attorney Clark. Ernest and myself were ushered into his room, he greeted 11s with a pleasant smile. When we were seated, Clark immediately got down to business. He began to ques- tion Coffey in regard to St. Claire. Coffey’s face immediately assumed the same look of pain it had worn the day before, and he protested mildly against bringing up a subject so painful to him. Clark quickly hushed these objections by telling Coffey he wanted to know the facts about Hattie’s disappearance because her relatives were worried about her. “We regret the fact that we have to open up this old wound, Mr. Coffey, but I’m sure you understand it’s for the best, and I hope you will lend us all the aid you can,” said Clark. “Yes, yes, surely!” replied Coffey. “What did you wish to know, Mr. Clark?” “Tell us, as nearly as you remember it, just what happened immediately before Mrs. Coffey eloped with St. Claire. Just what scene, if any. took place?” The look of grief on Coffey’s face deepened. We had the impression that what he was about to say was tearing the heart out of him. “This is a hard task you have imposed upon me, Mr. Clark. I’d rather go through anything than make disparaging remarks about Hattie. God alone knows how I loved that woman ! But, as you say, may- be it is for the best that I tell all “I came home unexpectedly and found her and this Mr. St. Claire in a com-

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True Detective Mysteries 79 promising position. You can imagine what a blow it was to me. I covered my eyes with my hands and staggered to a chair, where I broke down and wept. I couldn’t bear to look up and see her in her shame! Finally Hattie said: “'Now that you know all about it. Hilly, / may as well confess everything. I'm sorry it is necessary to hurt yon this way, but I love only Air. St. Claire. I'm going atvay with him , and if yon try to stop me, I will kill myself. Yon can have everything I mtm, because I am go - ing to sever relations with my folks and ezteryone I knew in the past. Mr. St. Claire and I are entering a new life. Loan me your pen, Billy!' “I didn’t look up, hut I felt her fingers reach in and take my pen from my vest pocket. I was bowed with grief. She signed all of her possessions over to me, and then I heard them go out of the door. I was too near heart-broken to look up when they departed. I haven’t seen or heard a word of them since.” “TTAVE you any of the securities she signed over to you with you now*?” asked Gark. “No, I left them in Chicago,” answered Coffey. “You have your oil stock with you, haven’t you?” asked Clark blandly. I was somewhat surprised at this ques- tion, but I instantly perceived that Clark asked that merely to throw Coffey off his guard. He didn’t want Coffey to sus- pect that we had seen the certificates. Ernest forgot himself for the moment, and innocently helped matters along by saying, “All the oil stock was called in this morning for recording. Mr. Clark.” “Oh, I see,” said Clark innocently. “Did vou see her sign the certificates, Mr. Coffey?” asked Clark. “Yes, I did. I couldn’t really believe she meant what she said about leaving with Mr. St. Claire, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her!” “Yon saw her sign the oil stock cer- tificates, too, I sup pose I" “Yes. They were the last ones she signed.” It took every ounce of self-control I possessed to keep calm when I heard this. Clark and Ernest felt the same, I guess. There was a tense silence for an instant, as the three of us tried to smother our feelings and appear unconcerned. But that instant was enough for the nimble brain of Coffey. A crafty look appeared in his eyes as he quickly glanced from one to the other of us. Although just a flash, it told me that he realized we were trap- ping him! “Well, I guess that is all we can do to-day, hut I’d like to go into this a little deeper to-morrow. Will you remain here a few days to give us what aid you can, Mr. Coffey? We must find your wife, because her folks are distracted over her disappearance. She may have come to some harm through this St. Claire, and we want it all cleared up.” “Yes, I’ll be glad to. It will be im- possible for me to he here to-morrow, however, as I have an important commit- tee meeting I must attend in Chicago. But I will be back the first of next week, and will be free to remain as long as I can he of any aid.” “We really need you to-morrow, Mr. I One Full Ampoule of my amazing Hairerb* fluid which I I discovered myself and which grew hair on my head, I This Ampoule is absolutely free. Don’t send any money. There Is I no C.O.D. No charge whatsoever. All I want is an opportunity to [ show you the fluid with which I grew hair on my own and on other men's heads. Merely mail the coupon below for Free Ampoule. Here is How I Used to Look I was just as bald as this picture. It is a true photo- graph w ithout any tampering or retouching. It is ex- actly like I osed to look. Then look at the xuU bead of W hair 1 have in the picture on the left I ^ As I have stated so often. I don’t know whether I am the first man who discovered this (treat secret, but 1 do know 1 have It. that I grew my own hair and yf'WHr ^ that I am growing hair on the beads of other men. It’s No Joke to Be Bald! What I accomplished on my own head and on other heads I believe I can do for you, provided you are under 45 years of age and loss of hair was not brought about by burns or scars or other causes leading to absolutely dead hair roots. Any- how, I must succeed or your money is refunded in strict accordance with my guarantee. No apporatus. My home treat- ment is simple, and easily applied. Mail This Free Coupon Mail the coupon today— Right Now — I will send you, immediately, one full Ampoule of my marvelous Hair- erbs fluid which I discovered, of which I hold the secret and which grew my own hair on my own bald head. Besides the Free Ampoule of Fluid, I will send ’ * names and addresses women who successfully These are exact untouched photographs of Miss Augustine Raimondo, 2350 East 25th Street, Cleveland, who was almost entirely bald and who had to wear a net covering in the school room. She was a f unha happy young lady. Physicians, hospitals and clinics told her that she very i would be bald for life. She saw one of our advertisements, became interested and began taking treatments with Hair- erbs. The growth of hair was surprising- ly fast. A hairy fuzz began to appear after twelve treatments. More hair came steadily until today Miss Raimondo has a full head of hair which is daily be- coming more luxuriant. This case is open to investigation by anyone. e Ampoule ot \ photographs. _ -'ft P » of men and \ ou^toofully used « my Hairerbs Fluid for dandruff, » "" N "" “* falling and loss of hair. \ VREELAND «**&&&* 2709 Euclid- Windsor Bldg. Cleveland, Ohio 1 4a**' ..nl«

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80 True Detective Mysteries Coffey/* persisted Clark. “This can’t wait !” “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t pos- sibly remain,” said Coffey, shaking his head regretfully. The District Attorney shot a significant glance at me. I got to my feet and walked over so as to be between Coffey and the door. “In that case. I’ll have to arrest you for I forgery , Mr. Coffey !” I rasped as I pulled the warrant, which Ernest had sworn out, from my pocket. What horrible fate really befell poor Hattie Hales Coffey? Her foolish let- ters— the elusive St. Claire — the forged stock certificates — only Coffey holds the key to these riddles! Will he reveal it — in the desperate battle of wits with the young Sheriff of Juneau County? In the next* instalment, Sheriff Wright tries an unheard-of ruse to get t Coffey to “break.” Slippery master-criminal against shrewd detective wit— which will win? 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SO ft 75 3f>x6 4.45 1.75 BALLOON TIRES Size Tires Tubes 29x4 40 52.30 $1.10 80*4.96 2. SO 1.36 30*6.26 2.95 1 35 81*6.26 3.20 1.86 1 .46130x6.77 3.20 1 40 1 45 33*6, 00 3.20 1.45 1.75 AN balloon Sizes 1 i>( 1.16 1.16 1 II 1.16 1.16 ordered, balance C.O.D. If you send rash in full, dedact 54. Too era guaranteed » ysar's service or replacement at half once. MIDLAND TIRE AND RUBBER COMPANY Dept. 816, 1000 West Sixty-third St.. Chicago. III. ( Continued from page 26) a steam- shovel operator of 544 Vermont Street, reached for his watch, his atten- tion distracted. The killer jerked out his revolver, shoved it into Petrovich’s face, and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered through the center of the victim’s lower lip and lodged in his brain. Staggering a few feet, Petrovich fell dead. Nicholas Korbus, a barber of 501 San Bruno Avenue, attracted by the sound of the shot, immediately notified the Southern police station. WITH no attempt to examine or rob his victim, with not a backward look, the thug speeded up the cab and drove after another victim — any victim. Three minutes later he drew up at a soft-drink parlor on the southwest corner of Seventeenth and Mississippi, run by Frank Mana. He got out and went in. (Strangely enough, this place was within one block of the viaduct upon which Walter Swanson’s body was at that mo- ment lying in its pool of blood.) Mana was in the shop with his partner, Louie Verdoia, and the latter’s wife and two babies. The thug asked for change for a twenty-dollar bill, and, as Mana started for the cash-register, drew a gun and ordered them : “Lie dozen on the floor , face dozen!” His companion followed him in and rifled the till, after which both bandits left. The presence of t babies apparently re- strained the killer’s blood-lust for the mo- ment. But the restraint must have taxed his capacity, for he soon surpassed himself. At the Brannan Restaurant at Seventh and Brannan, Louis Ferando, the cook, and two patrons, Augustino Davincinzi and Antone Uberti, all of 786 Brannon Street, were eating at a rear table. At 6:25 the Terror Bandit, gun in hand, brushed through the side door. “Put up your hands !” snapped the killer. Ferando, reconizing the taxi driver’s cap and badges, laughed, and started to rise from the table, answering: “You’re joking!” “Joking? Damn you, take that!” snarled the bandit, driving a bullet through FerandoV neck, beside his Adam’s apple. His companion vaulted the counter, looted the till, and the pair walked out to their cab, leaving Ferando bleeding on the floor and the two terrified patrons still seated before their unfinished meal. Turning quickly in the middle of the block, the killer speeded directly across the street to an oil station on the south- west corner. With screeching brakes he slid up beside the gasoline pump and jumped out. The owner, C. W. Johnson, of 58 A Harriet Street, had been visiting with his friend, Rex Hayden, of 71 Waller Street, when Jack Duane, night watchman for the American Can Company, came in to have his flash-light fixed. Johnson, alert for business, sprang up as the bandit-car stopped and went to wait on his customer — as he thought. Passing in back of the cab, his face almost col- lided in the darkness with a drawn gun in the hand of the killer. “Stick up your hands ! Get inside that station, quick! This is a hold-up!” screamed the killer. Startled, Johnson jumped, then backed into the station. His twro friends, seeing him wfith his hands up, put theirs up too. The bandit called to his companion in the taxi : “Come on in quick, kid, and get the money !” The “kid” hurriedly got out and en- tered the station. He found the three vic- tims lined up, the killer’s gun within three feet of Johnson’s head. He had just reached for the till when shooting began. Viciously, fiendishly, without rime or reason, the killer aimed carefully at John- son’s head, pulled the trigger, turned quickly on Duane, fired again, and then covered Hayden. Johnson staggered and fell, the bullet plowing through his Adam’s apple to emerge back of his neck close to the spine. Duane fell dead in his tracks, blood spurt- ing from his mouth; the bullet entered bis left cheek and lodged in his brain. Terrified at this merciless shooting, Hay- den instinctively shrank back, covering his head with his arms. The killer kept Hayden covered while his accomplice completed the looting. Then : “Now put your hands down!” Hayden lowered his hands, frightened and unresisting. The killer raised his gun to cover Hayden’s head and pulled the trigger. The bullet passed through Hay- den’s hat. Two inches closer and it would

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True Detective Mysteries 81 have struck his head — pierced his brain! Panic-stricken, Hayden threw up his hands as a partial shield for his face just as the killer’s gun roared again. This second bullet shattered Hayden’s arm, and he fell to the floor. Having viciously shot down every man in the place with four shots in little over a minute’s time this human butcherer and his partner ran out, jumped in their cab, and drove off to continue the orgy. In five hold-ups, with seven bullets, in less than twenty-five minutes, the killer had slaughtered three men and shot three others through the head ! HIS bullets apparently exhausted, or nearly so, the killer now turned from slaughter to sluggery — and he still aimed at the face. Heading down Townsend Street toward the Embarcadero, he spied a man, a po- tential prey, between First and Second on the opposite side of the street. Stopping the cab just in front of the prey, he jumped out with drawn revolver and con- fronted the victim, Albert Anderson, a sailor from the motor-ship Pajola. “Have you got any money?” “No, I’m broke.” Smash — THUD! And Anderson stum- bled unconscious to the sidewalk, slugged in the face by the thug’s revolver butt. Without searching Anderson, he jumped back in the cab to continue his slugging rampage, and turned up a little alley that runs north and south, bisecting Townsend Street. Coming out on Brannan Street again, he sighted two men on the north side of the street. He drove up to the curb beside them and sprang out, followed by his companion. Tony Surkovich, of 17 Stillman Street, and Manuel Andrade, 16 Woodward Avenue proprietors of a small restaurant in the district, were returning home when stopped by the bandits. Andrade turned and ran at the sight of their guns. The killer took off in pursuit, but at a word from his companion came back. He took seven dollars and a watch from Surkovich, then smashed him in the face with his gun. Surkovich staggered back, still on his feet, and the bandit smashed him again, again in the face. This time he fell stunned and bleed- ing to the pavement. _< litis Offer Open to Eveir Reader of this Announcement Have you sent a name? If not, do so at once. It makes no difference who you are or where you live we want you to send us a name for this new and unusual shampoo. Whoever sends the most suitable name will win $1000 — nothing else to do. NOTHING TO BUY —NOTHING TO SELL You can use a coined won! or a word made by combining two or more words, such as “Sungleam,” “Youthglow,” etc., or any other name you think would fit the high quality of this shampoo. Or your name might suggest the handy new container, our latest sanitary tube from which the Shampoo is simply squeezed out, thus eliminating the waste and trouble caused by the old-fashioned liquid soap in bottles. 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The only thing necessary to win is to send the name we choose as the best and most suitable for this shampoo. Only one name will be accepted from each contestant. This unusual offer is only one of a number of offers embraced in our novel distribution plan of ultra toilet goods, whereby those taking part may win any one of twenty-odd prizes, the highest of which is $3500 cash. By participating in our distribution plan the winner of the $1100 cash prize may win an additional $3500, making a total of $4600. Everyone sending a name, regardless of whether it wins or not, will be given the same opportunity to win the $3500 or one of the other cash prizes. Get busy with your suggestion at once— do not delay! To get quick action wc are going to pay the winner an extra $100 for promptness, or $1100 in all — so send your suggestion AT ONCE! CONTEST RULES This contest s open to everyone except members of this firm, its employees and relatives. Each contestant may send only one name. Sending two or more names will cause all names submitted by that person to be thrown out. Contest doses April 30, 1930. Duplicate prizes will be given in case of ties. To win the promptness prize of $100 extra, the winning name suggested must be mailed within three days after our announcement is read. I I PARIS AMERICAN PHARMACAL CO„ 910 McCunc Bldg., Dea Moines, Iowa. IEndosed with this coupon on separate sheet is my suggestion for a name. | Date this announcement was read_ | Date my suggestion is mailed. I Name — - „ Note: Being prompt qualifies you for the extra | $100 as outlined in this announcement. THE bandits turned their backs on him and climbed into their cab. They next stopped at an oil station on the southwest corner of Mariposa Street and Tennessee, run by Lawrence O. Strand of the Argonaut Hotel. Stephen Walker, ot 464 Pennsylvania Street, a carpenter, was getting gas for his Ford when the cab arrived. The driver inquired of Strand for boot- leg places in the district. Strand directed him down the street. The bandit drove out on Third Street, turned around on Mariposa and drove back; drove down a block to Tennessee and parked the cab, leaving the motor running. Walker, after getting his gas, unfortu- nately for him drove over to^an air pump. The terror leader, followed by his satellite, walked the block to the oil station, went up to Walker, pulled a gun from his coat, and demanded : “Have you got any money?” “No,” answered Walker. Offer Extraordinary Photos enlarged Full Size 0x10 In* only 89c For a limited time we are otfering a real Bromide life- like photo enlargement (our regular S5.00 value), at thia remarkably low price, re- J produced from anv photo, onapsliot or negative you mail us. Safe return of original photo guaranteed in same condition as received. Send No Money Just mail your favorite photo, give name and ad- dress and within 8 davs you will receive a beautiful en- largement guaranteed fade- less— an exact reprod action of original. 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HAYHKI.I.INK CO. CHICAGO id Form Eyelash QpcauUJicr^ Hake man*? takfrur frratpha in biff demand. Commercial rholuffraphy alao paya biff money. I .earn quickly at home in apara tuna. No experience ncceaaary. Write today for new free book. Opiwrlwmfir* in Modern Photography. American 68 -page Dressmaking Lesson FREE ItionT at home, In spare time, you can leant to make all your own clothes for a half or a third of what you pay in th« fhop& The Woman's Institute will teach you the secrets of dcHlKning. cuttlmr. flttinu an<l flnlshlnjr that make the pro- fessional till all St v 80 successful. So that you may see with your own eyes how easily you cun learn through this fasci- nating step-by-step method, we will gladly send you a 68- I-uge sample lesson free. In words and pictures, it describes the details of cutting and finishing sleeres. collars, shoulders and otlur difficult parts of a dress. Every page Is full of helpful instructions, all to simple and complete that you can quickly master them. *Just mail the coupon and wc will send you this 68-1* AGE SAMPLE LESSON free, as well as our l*#ok- let. “Making Beautiful Clothes." j WOMAN S INSTITUTE. Dept. 91-Z. Scranton. Pa. , Please send me — Free — your booklet. “Making | Beautiful Clothes." and the 68-PAGE SAMPLE | LESSON described above. 1 am most Interested in — H Home Dressmaking _ Q Millinery I Name.. I j Professional Dressmaking j Cooking (Please specify whether Mrs. or Miss) “You’re a damn liar/' snarled the thug. “You got some!” “I have not” insisted Walker. “You can find it if I have!” The bandit raised his gun as though to slug Walker. “Don’t hit me I” implored Walker. “I’ve got a family. Why hit me? Why kill me ?” “Oh, leave him alone! Don’t kill him! Don’t hit him !” interposed the companion. But the terrorist, infuriated, smashed Walker on the left cheek-hone with his gun butt. The carpenter collapsed on the ground. At this moment another Ford, driven by Police Officer Dorsey Henderson, drove up to get some air. When the bandits saw him, they started away. Strand, the proprietor, who had been in the oil station, came out in time to see Walker knocked down. Glimpsing Henderson, he bellowed: “Get those two men! GET THEM!” The bandits broke into a run, heading for their cab. Henderson’s car was next to an air pump, a post behind, both exits blocked. Turning as quickly as possible, be took up the chase, firing as he went. The bandits didn’t return the fire. They reached their cah. jumped in, and speeded away. Up to Tenth, to Eighteenth, over to Third, to Mariposa, to Mississippi, and back to Sixteenth the chase went. Hen- derson, soon outdistanced, barely managed to keep them in sight. Attempting a sharp turn on Sixteenth Street, the driver smashed the cab against the curb, caving in the front wheels. He and his companion jumped out, separated, and escaped in the darkness of the Southern Pacific yards. THIS was just thirty-five minutes after the slaying of Swanson, on the via- duct— only two blocks away ! In the cab. Officer Henderson found a steel automatic and a taxi driver’s over- coat. Then About fifteen minutes later a large tour- ing-car with lights out speeded past. Officer Harry Boyle, who had been de- tailed to guard Swanson’s body pending the arrival of the coroner. Boyle waved for it to stop. Two shots answered him. Boyle, uninjured, fired four shots in return. The car headed down Third Street and turned north toward the ferry. Word was soon out that the bandits were in a big machine, a Marinon or a Peerless. . . . That was the last of that night’s de- predations. Little did we know then the gigantic task and the hair-raising en- counters that were ahead of us ; nor that the tracking down of the Terror Bandits was to give our sleuths the opportunity to pull off the neatest piece of detective work of the year! With this swift succession of brutal crimes, the Police Department became feverish with activity. The public was panic-stricken as extras appeared and radio dispatches of the orgy warned people to stay off the streets. Frantic calls began coming in to all police stations, particularly Headquarters, demanding and imploring that something be done. Chief of Police O’Brien and Captain of Detectives Matheson, who were attending a dinner at the St. Francis Hotel given by city officials in honor of Cardinal Hayes, were notified of the murders and stick-ups. They immediately left the dinner and rushed to Police Headquarters in the Hall of Justice, where they took personal charge. A cordon of officers was thrown around the district where the bandits had operated and where they were last seen, and the district searched. All district captains — they were fortunately at a meet- ing of the Police Commission — were or- dered to their stations. From the office of the Chief a message was rushed to all radio broadcasting stations for immediate transmittal : EMERGENCY ORDER. FOR ALL POLICE OFFICERS OF SAN FRANCISCO EVERY POLICE OFFICER IS HEREBY ORDERED TO REPORT TO HIS RESPEC- TIVE STATION-HOUSE IMMEDIATELY WITH HIS PRIVATE MACHINE IF POS- SIBLE, REGARDLESS OF WHERE HL MAY BE OR WHAT HE MAY BE DOING. AN EMERGENCY HAS ARISEN NECES- SITATING IMMEDIATE MOBILIZATION OF THE ENTIRE POLICE FORCE. Signed: D. J. O'Brien Chief of Police. As soon as this order was on the way, all reports concerning the bandits were analyzed. Detectives drew up a compre- hensive description of the bandits, of the big car they were supposed to be in, aiul of the direction of flight when last seen. This report was forwarded to all district stations. It read in part: “The following are the descriptions of the bandits: “No. 1: 5 ft. 8 in., 25 to 27 yrs., 150 lbs., dark complexion, dark hair, hook nose, scar on right cheek, wore a taxi driver’s uniform, and carried a blue-steel automatic pistol. “No. 2: 5 ft 5 in., 20 yrs., 150 lbs., blue eyes, light chestnut hair, well dressed. “Cover all exits to the city in your district, as the bandits when last seen were in a large, open touring-car, either a Marmon or Peerless, heading toward the ferry. The exits include all roads, ferries, docks, railroad depots, street- cars, and trains. “Make a thorough search of every rooming-house, hotel, pool-room, sus- pected gambling-house, suspected boot leg joint, restaurant and possible hang- out for criminals in your district.” A FLURRY of activity accompanied receipt of these orders at the dis- trict police stations. Officers were immedi- ately dispatched to cover city exits. Platoon leaders, each allotted and made responsible for one-third of a district, took charge of deploying the policemen as they reported for duty. Captains with special squads began a systematic searching of probable criminal hangouts. Platoon leaders utilized every available machine for patrolling their sectors — police cars, private cars of officers, and cars of citizens. In many cases citizen volunteers acted as chauffeurs in machines carrying two policemen armed with rifles or shot- guns. The following order, issued by Captain Goff, of the Southern station (in which district most of the shooting was done), illustrates the instructions carried by pie

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True Detective Mysteries 83 trolling officers in the succeeding days: PLATOON COMMANDERS: Instruct the members of your re- spective platoons to keep a careful watch on all gas and oil stations, drug and grocery stores, and all other places that might tempt the bandits to hold them up, such as soft-drink places, hotels, pool-rooms, social clubs, in fact any place that is open and doing business. All officers must be instructed to be careful in handling the shotguns and rifles, and to keep their heads cool under all circumstances. Should they become excited, they are liable to kill some innocent per- son. Be sure you are dealing with the bandits before opening Are, but when the bandits are discovered have no hesitation in firing on them instantly, for they will shoot to kill at the first opportunity. Investigate all suspicious machines, one officer to do the investigating, the other officer being prepared for action. Platoon commanders will see that every lodging-house and hotel in the district and every other place that might afford concealment to these bandits is investigated for traces of these criminals and every effort made to apprehend them. TO supplement the work of district police stations, Captain Matheson sent Headquarters detectives to comb each district, detectives being assigned in pairs to districts with which they were familiar. A small group of detectives was kept in reserve for emergency use to in- vestigate leads or tips that might come in. Volunteers appeared from all sides to offer help in this tragic crisis. Colonel Bollcs of the Thirtieth Infantry stationed at the San Francisco Presidio immediately offered any service within his power. He placed a heavy detail at each open gate of the Presidio to head off the fugitives if they sought shelter in that direction (the Presidio contains thousands of acres offering secluded hiding-places for fugi- tives). He rushed fifty shotguns and many^boxes of shells to Police Head- quarters for officers patrolling the streets. And he volunteered a thousand rifles and unlimited cartridges. The fire chief offered men and machines to aid in patrolling, and many of both were accepted. Men from private de- tective agencies and men in the Federal service hurried down to proffer their aid. In less than half an hour after the first radio message went out, officers reporting for instructions and citizens volunteering their services thronged the streets around the Hall of Justice. Traffic officers had to be placed on duty to relieve the con- nection. All during that Monday evening the situation was critical. We didn't know at what hour the terrorists might continue their killings. Every section was a poten- tial danger spot. In each section, but particularly the Southern, where most of the crimes had been committed, every loiterer and suspi- cious character was gathered in for ques- tioning. 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Chicago, li rooming-houses all arrivals were ques- tioned. Taxi drivers and street-car con- ductors were warned to be on the alert to report unusual or suspicious individuals and occurrences. By midnight the city was practically under martial law. Momentarily we ex- pected some new outbreak, but as the night wore on it became evident that our mobi- lization and intensive patrolling had pre- vented further deaths even though they had not yet enabled us to capture the killers. THE augmented patrol of 1,500 police, firemen, special officers and the like cruised about throughout the night, each covering his particular sector of a few blocks. Officers whose regular shift began at 8 A. M. were excused about 4 A. M. for a little sleep. Others kept on till 6 or 8. Most of the detectives worked all night and continued throughout Tuesday without sleep. The following day, Tuesday, all leaves of absence and vacations were canceled and officers away from the city were re- called for special assignment. The public, thinking ahead to nights of terror until the bandits should be caught, flooded us with delegations and phone calls. Never have I seen the citizens at such a fever heat except during war time. Their general note was friendly but insistent. The bandits must be caught— or killed! For the first time in their experience both Chief of Police O’Brien and Captain of Detectives Matheson felt called upon to issue a statement, published in all papers, trying to calm the general hysteria. Chief O’Brien said in part: “This is no natural affair. It is the work of FIENDS UNDER THE IN- FLUENCE OF DRUGS OR LIQUOR OR BOTH. The blows have been struck blindly and at random. “Our plans have been made. What they are we cannot divulge. Suffice it to say that the patrol of last night will be aug- mented by every man and every possible instrument of protection that is known. “We want every citizen of San Francis- co to know that the Police Department is responding to a man. Many are going without sleep. Extraordinary precautions of far-reaching importance are under way. Until we have apprehended the men, the Department is going to labor night and day for the protection of the city and the prevention of any similar tragedies ” AFTER analyzing the reports and the general situation, we in the Detec- tive Bureau came to three conclusions: First, the thugs had run amuck from drinking bootleg liquor. Second, they probably lived, and were habitues of pool-rooms and hangouts, in the South of Market district. Third, they were apt to renew their orgies at any time, particularly night-time. From these conclusions we formulated our first policies. We prepared to com!) at once that South of Market district house by house, to dig out clues that would uncover the murderers. And we placed de- tails to investigate each suspected bootleg joint. As the week wore on, hundreds of leads, suggestions, and tips came in. Each had to be investigated, for any one might be the one that would reveal the killers. Riot cars with screaming sirens rushed here and there in response to these calls, and officers carrying shotguns and rifles became familiar sights to everyone. Our first big break came from an odd tip brought in by Detectives Paddy Wafer and Louis De Matei. . . . The greatest man-hunt in the annals of San Francisco’s police is on! — with the forces of the Law and terror-stricken, outraged populace out for blood! The Terror Bandits know this— must know it; what are these demons plotting, now, to elude the avenging death-net spread for them?— One big surprise is in store for the sleuths, who thought, from vic- tims’ descriptions, they knew what the Terror Bandits looked like; can you guess what it is? Don’t miss the thrill- ing climax — in January True Detective Mysteries, on all news stands December 15th! Chicago’s “Sheik” Slayer (Continued from page 54) the streets to the offices of Doctor David Omens, far on the west side. Doctor Omens, who had treated Durkin ten months before when he was wounded in the encounter with the three policemen, again cared for him. Refusing an anesthetic. Durkin lay face down on the operating-table while the surgeon removed the bullet and the shotgun slugs. Dur- kin departed, and two hours later police swarmed into the physician’s office, hot on the wounded “Sheik’s” trail. A SHORT time later six policemen searched one of the many trains leaving Chicago for New York, but com- pletely overlooked a young man apparently immersed in a novel that might well have been titled: Stop This Man . Arriving in New York without mishap, Durkin stayed at the apartment of his cousin, Mrs. Hattie Galow, while his wounds slowly healed. Meanwhile search in Chicago was being pressed with even greater energy than that displayed following the Shanahan murder. The Police Department was anxious to atone for the Austin debacle. At 3 A.M. on a morning shortly after Durkin’s departure, Policemen Daniel Carroll and James Henry, transferred from their regular beat to watch one of his known haunts, saw three men alight from a taxicab and enter a saloon. They followed. The trio were questioned and found to have no knowledge of Durkin. The officers tarried at the bar for a few moments. They were moments that proved fatal, for a lone bandit chose that time to bold up the place. In the shoot- ing that followed, Carroll, Henry and a civilian were slain. The killer, inciden- tally, has never been captured. Durkin was immediately suspected. The triple slaying added to the hubbub center- ing about him, and he became an awe-

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True Detective Mysteries 85 some, almost legendary figure whom, it was thought, bullets could not harm and whose every bullet brought death! Durkin rode into Chicago on the crest of this new wave of excitement, having motored from New York though able to use only one arm. He saw himself in the role of the lone wolf eluding the pack, and keenly en- joyed the thrill of the chase. But this was not enough. He was lonesome. Lone- some for a pretty girl to adorn the motor seat beside him. Touring aimlessly through Streator, Illinois, after a few days spent in Chi- cago, he espied a road sign indicating that Cornell, Illinois, was only a few miles away. Irma Sullivan ! From the recesses of his mind, her name leaped out. He had met her just once, two years before, when she was visiting in Chicago. He remem- bered she had said her home was in Cor- nell. Straightway he motored there! He called on her that night. Irma, a pretty, dark-haired girl, just eighteen, was startled to see this young man whose pic- ture she had seen under the caption : “Wanted for Murder!” He soothed her fears. He was really not a bad fellow, he protested. It was the newspapers that had painted him so. He wanted to begin a new life. He loved her. Would she marry him? Two hours he pleaded, and in the end Irma succumbed to his blandishments. The following morning, Martin Durkin, fugi- tive murderer, became M. James Durkee, bridegroom. A police magistrate of East St. Louis, Illinois, sealed the pact and wished the couple a long and happy life! ONCE again Marty Durkin had a pretty girl, a fast car, and was California- bound. He was well supplied with funds, and spent the Christmas and New Year holidays in a Hollywood bungalow. His gifts to Irma included, among other things, two expensive mink coats, a $2,800 diamond ring and a giant police dog. The two lived pleasantly, even luxuri- ously, until one rainy afternoon, the 17th of January, 1926, when Durkin chanced to look out of the window and saw three policemen loitering about his home. As it later developed, they were seeking another auto thief and did not know of Durkin’s presence in the neighborhood. , lie, however, naturally leaped to the conclusion that they were after him. He started his flight with his bride by steal- ing a car under the eyes of a salesman, and was recognized. Federal agents were on his trail in a flash. He eluded a deputy sheriff at Pecos, Texas, but knew he was only a few hours ahead of the government men. His car broke a wheel at Alpine, Texas, and he, Irma and the police dog went aboard a train at San Antonio for St. Louis. Word was relayed to Federal agents at St. Louis. At Webster Grove, a short distance outside the Missouri metropolis, a force of Department of Justice agents, headed by Edward J. Dowd, and St. Louis detectives, led by Chief Robert Kaiser, boarded the train. Dowd knocked on the door of Durkin’s compartment. “Pardon me,” he said, when the fugitive peered out, “I’m looking for a friend APPLICATION BLANK HOBART FISHER. Director Box 425, Batavia, Illinois I would like to go to Hollywood for a free Screen test which you are to make in tiie big Columbia Studio. Sending this coupon does not obligate me in any way. Name St. or R.F.D ! Town 7 State WANT TO JOIN ™E MOVIES? SCREEN AND VOICE TESTS NOW BEING GIVEN! We are getting ready to make screen and voice tests at Hollywood in the big Columbia Pictures Studios. The same studios where one can find workingsuch stars as Bert Lytell, Jacqueline Logan, Dorothy Revier, Jack Holt and many other well known celebrities. Who can tell? You may have just the right profile or the correct figure or the proper voice to make you a desirable addition to the screen. The “Pictures’* call for Young and Old, Boys and Girls, Men and Women— It may prove out there is a place for you. Both sexes and all ages may apply. You may have unusual talent and not know it. WIN A TRIP TO HOLLYWOOD To the best of our knowledge, this is the first announce- ment of this kind ever to be made to the public at large. Perhaps this may be the last announcement— therefore, if you are interested in having us try to find a place for you in the “Movies” just fill out the application t>lank at the bottom of this announcement. Mail it promptly as appli- cations will be filed in the order in which they are received. ALL EXPENSES PAID TO HOLLYWOOD! Your circumstances need not deter you from making applica- tion. You will na be put to any expense if you are selected foe a trial. All of your expenses will be paid — this means all neces- sary expenses including railroad fare, pullman and dining car charges, hotel bills, etc. No expense to you. HOBART FISHER, Director Screen Test Division Box 425, Batavia, Illinois © h. j. cd. Sl.OO only and your hair trouble i, aolvcd for th* real of your Ufa.

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Gov S ernment Jobs obtainable. (2) Tell q me how to gut one ot these jobs. U I Name ....................... Today aure Address. named James — thought he might be here.” “My name is Valentine,” Durkin answered. Dowd seized his wrists. “Like hell it is!” he cried. “You’re Durkin 1 I’m a Federal man, and I want you!” Durkin broke away and tried to reach his gun. Ironically enough, one of Irma’s brand-new mink coats was covering it. The thirty seconds Durkin spent fumbling for the weapon brought three officers on his back. He was pinned to the floor and handcuffed. “You birds caught me napping!” he mourned. “If I’d had a gun handy, there would have been a merry time for us all. I wasn’t expecting any trouble until I hit Chicago!” He hit Chicago and stepped, not into trouble, but into a veritable ovation ! Some 2,000 persons, most of them foolish young girls of an impressionable age, made up a welcoming party at Union Sta- tion, greeting him with smiles, cheers and shouts of “Hello, Marty 1” His arms bound with three sets of handcuffs, his ankles girded with gyves and chains, he hobbled along, a pale young man into whose path one flapper tossed a bouquet of flowers! HE met Betty in the Federal building, and greeted her pleasantly. “Don’t be a chump.” she retorted. “You’ve got a wife now 1” And she left him with that. Nattily attired in plus-fours, golf hose and a Norfolk coat, Durkin was the Beau Brummell of the county jail. He spent the days preceding his trial w’ooing both Irma and Betty through the mail. “Irma,” he wrote, “you are the only one for me. Be sure and come to see me. Gee, hon, for the last week Fve dreamed about you every night!” “Betty,” he wrote, “you know you are the only one I ever loved. I’m through with Irma. I’m broke, just a dollar left. It's all I have, and I'm sending it to you ! ” Unfortunately for the glib Mr. Durkin, the jail officials censored the missives, and the newspapers published them. Irma read Betty’s letter and vowed she was through with him forever. Betty read Irma’s letter and said: “I never did like him, anyhow 1” The State’s Attorney’s office decided to try Durkin for the Shanahan killing, ignoring the Gray murder on the theory that in the Federal agent’s slaying they had the strongest evidence to obtain a hanging verdict. The selection of a jury proved an ex- tremely difficult task, owing to the tre- mendous amount of newspaper publicity Durkin had received. Prospective jurors, when questioned, declared they had formed opinions as to his guilt or inno- cence from the news stories, and that they could not enter into the case with open minds. A total of 491 venire-men was exam- ined before twelve men were approved by both sides. The trial was started June 26th, 1926, before Judge Harry B. Miller in the Criminal Court at Chicago. The prosecutors were Assistant State’s Attor- neys Louis Blumenthal and Michael Ro- mano. Durkin had Attorneys Eugene Mc- Garry and Roland I.ibonati as his de- fenders. • Betty Werner was to be a witness for the State. Durkin’s mother and his women cousins fondly cherished the hope that when Betty took the stand and gazed into Marty’s eyes, her heart would go pitter-patter and she would refuse to testify to anything that would be of harm to him. Irma was not to be a witness, and in furtherance of their plan, the gun- man’s kin persuaded her to remain aw’ay from the court-room. It was their idea that the sight of the bride might reopen old wounds for Betty and counteract Dur- kin’s melting glances. Howr this might have worked out can never be known, for during the course of the trial Durkin picked up his trusty pen and committed another faux pas. Sev- eral girl stenographers, it developed, wrere collecting money for wdiat they called “The Durkin Defense Fund.” Marty wrote to one of the leaders, telling her what a sweet little girl she was. “If I should get out of this ” his letter ran, “zee shall have nobody with us until zee become better friends !” Betty read that in a morning paper, and two hours later she wras on the wit- ness-stand. Durkin might as w’ell have worn goggles. She talked freely of their life together, her most important state- ment being that on one of their Califor- nia trips Durkin had told her he would shoot any police officer who tried to stop him. Durkin claimed, and so testified on the stand, that Shanahan did not reveal his identity and that he shot, believing the agent was a hold-up man. If Shanahan had displayed a star there would have been no shooting, the defendant asserted. Betty’s testimony, however, served to strengthen the State’s contention that Durkin would not hesitate to kill a law officer. Longtin, the garage helper, told the jury he had seen Shanahan throw back his coat, revealing his star. Andrew Cserep testified that immediately after the shoot- ing Durkin had told him that he had just killed a Federal man. The case went to the jury July 9th. The twelve men deliberated for nine and a half hours, finally agreeing on a verdict of guilty. Durkin was sentenced to the penitentiary for thirty-five years. THE following day Betty Werner was married to one Clyde Whalen. Gone nowT was the carnival air Durkin had brought into the court-room. The jury’s verdict and Betty’s marriage com- bined to break his spirit and shatter his vanity. He moped in his cell, a man deep in the abyss of despair. While his appeal for a new trial wfa> before the Supreme Court, he pleaded guilty in the Federal court to five charges of transporting stolen automobiles, and was given a sentence of fifteen years to follow the State sentence. The high court denied him a rehearing, and on November 9th, 1926, he exchanged his golf togs for blue denim, entering the State Penitentiary at Joliet. His depar- ture from Chicago was in marked contrast to his last entrance. The Union Station that had heard the gay feminine cries of “Hello, Marty!” ten months before, now saw’ only his mother present to bid him good-by. We can record now hut tw’o incidents

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True Detective Mysteries 87 that served for a moment to inter- rupt the monotony and the drudgery of prison life for Marty Durkin. Both came as sharp and poignant reminders of the gay days of women, speed and the thrill of danger. First, he received notification that Irma had obtained a divorce. This was in March, 1927. A year and five months later he had a visitor. It was Betty. Forgotten were the moments of bitter- ness of the past, and regretted were the words she had spoken before a jury. There was no mention of the husband she had taken so soon after the jury had sealed Durkin’s doom. Suffice it to say that both wept ; that both whispered words of contrition. They clasped hands through the bars, and Betty vowed she would be waiting when he came out. The story of Betty and Marty is in- complete without the explanation of Mrs. Margaret West, a cousin of Durkin’s. Long after the trial, she revealed that she and Durkin’s mother had been in com- munication with him after the Austin shooting. They feared he would try to reach Betty and, knowing the police watch- ing her would probably capture and per- haps kill him, they told him she had be- trayed him and had set the trap in the Austin home. “So Marty, bitter against Betty, mar- ried Irma,’’ Mrs. West said. “It was brutal, perhaps, and unfair to Betty. But Martv, after all, is the one we love most, and we felt it was the only way.” And so, just like the movies, the mis- understandings are explained away and the lovers are reunited. But, unlike the movies, the gates into the pleasant ways do not swing open for the killer and his lady. Even with time off for good behavior, this man who loves the things of limber youth will come out, if such as he can survive the years of bitter confinement, bent and gray and seventy. Betty, in promising to wait, has prom- ised much. How We Smashed the Plot to Overthrow Mexico ( Continued from page 41) peon, or laborer, with a “swamper,” or helper, at his side. During the next half-hour, a number of automobiles appeared on the scene. All carried parties of well-dressed Mexicans, who delivered packages of various sizes to the truck drivers, which were added to the cargo. We hurriedly noted the license numbers of these cars. They were later traced, with the result that a goodly num- ber of local members of the revolutionary conspiracy were landed in the Federal net. It was about 4:30 when an Oakland sedan, with a clean-cut, alert-looking young man at the wheel, whom I recog- nized from his description as Parker, the “hardware man,” drove past. The ’ two trucks followed him. Parker, then, was to be the vanguard. Among several Listen In On Life : ! 9 P. M. Eastern Time 8 P. M. 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True Detective Mysteries 89 He had communicated by telephone with the Department of Justice offices in Los Angeles, and received information that some 300 Mexicans were assembled near the little town of Tecate, near the international line, awaiting the arms and ammunition and the arrival of their com- manders. However, of far more interest to us was news that some 200 men of the pro- posed revolutionary army were rumored to be planted in an isolated canyon, at some unknown point along the inland highway, waiting to receive part of the armament ! After Captain Hopkins’ departure, we went into conference over the disquieting intelligence we had just received. The sun was then blazing down from a sky hard and clear as a vault of blue enamel. Ocean breezes were a thing of the past, and hot air rolled in withering waves from the sun-baked fields and low rolling hills beyond, as we sat deliberating as to what action would be our best bet, should we overtake the trucks and find them in possession of the revolutionists. Opinion was unanimous that we were in duty and honor bound to carry out the purpose of our assignment, to the limit of our ability, even at the cost of life itself; that purpose being to prevent the two truckloads of arms and ammunition from falling into the hands of persons actively plotting against the Mexican Government. After brief discussion, a plan was agreed upon. Should the trucks turn off into a side canyon, ice would dash on the scene in our car and seize the trucks before the revolutionists could unload the arms and ammunition . And as the guns were in their original boxes, still packed in grease, and the cartridges in the original cartons, the element of time was in our favor. We were but a few minutes* drive behind the trucks, and the Estrada forces would have no chance to unload the equipment, much less distribute it, before we swooped down upon them. OXCE in possession of the armament trucks, we might hope to hold the Mexicans oft with our shotguns until re- inforcements, under Hopkins, should ar- rive. Of course, it was probable that some of the Estrada men would be armed with revolvers or automatics, and, no doubt, we would meet with resistance. . . . It is only the truth to state that, as this consideration was duly weighed, perspira- tion that was not the result of the over- powering heat bedewed our faces! The thoughts of all of us were coursing in the same grim channel . . . the possi- bility of being “dropped” by the smaller firearms of the Estrada men, or being eventually overwhelmed by superior num- bers. Death in itself had no terrors for any of us : we had faced it too many times. But the vision of one or all of us, wounded and left lying on the ground to perish slowly of pain and thirst in that agonizing heat, was one to appal the bravest heart! “Well, fellows?” I put the question after several moments of tense silence. “Come on!” “Let’s go!” “No use wasting any more time!” Thus came the simultaneous responses of my little command, and with faces grimly set. we took up the trail, to do or Win$3,500 or BUICK SEDAN | and $1,500 Extra Cash in Our Great New Ad- vertising Campaign Santa Claus is a jolly fellow who makes millions happyT^ But good old St. Nick was never as generous as we are in this great new advertising campaign. In the past we gave thousands of dollars in awards. F. Sieglinger won $3,000, Edna Ziler won $1 ,975, Tillie Bohle won $1 ,500 and many others. Now better than ever. Enter now and Find the Real Santa Claus Look sharp. Can you find the real Santa? Thepictures all look exactly alike, but only Hare the same-oneijdj'tferenf. 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When the procession finally entered a long, narrow defile, from which we knew there was no turn-off, we breathed freely once more, and followed our quarry with feelings of deep satisfaction and security until we finally emerged in a broad and pleasant valley. At one point a road turned off, over a low hill, on what we at once supposed was a short cut to Tecate. We saw the rear convoy disappear over the top, and were following at our usual discreet distance, when there was a most disconcerting de- velopment. Suddenly rolling over the brow of the hill, headed straight toward us, came the Hudson sedan, steered by the “General’'! It was a crucial moment. Our presence on that unused road could not but arouse suspicions that would be fatal for our purposes! Acting upon a swift impulse, I swerved our Buick sharply to the right, through a barbed-wire fence and into a brush-covered field. “Grab your guns, boys!” I shouted. “And go after those rabbits !" Hawtrey and Cox leaped from the car, and when the Hudson came abreast, their rifles were barking at imaginary rabbits! The “General" gave one careless glance at the “hunters,” and disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. We stayed put until the Oakland and the trucks passed also on the backward trail ; then we returned to the highway. We later learned that the supposed short- cut had proved to be a blind road, thus forcing the armament expedition to turn back, much to the conspirators’ disgust. There was no further excitement until East San Diego was reached, in mid-after- noon. This marked the turning point of our adventure. There we would know if we had tailed the Estrada expedition with complete success, according to whether it wended a peaceful way to the Parker ( warehouse in San Diego ... or turned j southeast to some other destination than J the one marked on its manifest, thereby ! committing an overt violation of the Neu- trality Act. It was with a tingle of triumph that we followed the armament through East San Diego and along the highway running southeast, to Mexico and the Imperial Valley, rather than southwest, into San Diego proper! Now there was full promise that our labor had not been in vain, and that arrests were actually to climax this long drama of pursuit ! SEVERAL miles from East San Diego, nestling amid rolling hills crowned with pretty bungalow homes and blooming gardens, lies a little city of palm-lined streets, called La Mesa, sometimes desig- nated “The Jewel of the Hills.” Just outside the town, the trucks and their escorts stopped. There was a hurried conference between Parker and the “Gen- eral,” after which the latter jumped into his car and drove down the road at high speed. In the belief that he was about to estab- lish communication with revolutionary headquarters for instructions, we followed. Down one of La Mesa’s trim little busi- ness streets rolled the Hudson, to park near a drug store. Lieutenant Curtis was delegated to tail the “General” as he en- tered the store and put in a telephone call. As it happened, the “General’s” conver- sation was carried on in rapid-fire Spanish, and Lieutenant Curtis* linguistic accom- plishments did not include a knowledge of that language. Therefore, he casually purchased a cigar and retired to the side- walk to await the reappearance of his quarry. Shortly afterward, the “General” came out, moved his car to a side street, and started back on foot over the road by which he had entered La Mesa. We kept him in sight until we saw Parker, in the Oakland, followed by the two trucks, draw up. Parker and the “General” held another brief hut animated conversation, after which Parker drove on, leading the trucks, and leaving the “General” and his Hudson in La Mesa. WE took up the pursuit elatedly, thrilled by the realization that we were now on the last lap of the long trail. Our quarry was undoubtedly headed for Tecate, on the Mexican line! Several miles beyond La Mesa, our route led down into a canyon. From a clump of trees near its mouth, Captain Hopkins stepped forth and stopped us. “We’re going to make arrests now,” lie announced crisply, “before they deliver the arms to the Mexicans !” “We’re ready !” I responded, and stepped on the gas. Our Buick shot forward, and in a few minutes overtook the trucks. Both had stopped by the side of the dirt road. We dashed ahead of them, came abreast of the Oakland, and unceremoniously crowded it into the shallow ditch. Cox and Hawtrey sprang to the ground with guns drawn and covered Parker. uWc’rc officers! Put 'em up!" After a second of startled hesitation, the “hardware man” obeyed. He was in- formed that he was under arrest, and or- dered to get out of the car. “What’s the idea?” he coolly demanded, as he stepped to the ground. “Violation of the Neutrality Act!” I snapped. He assumed a look of injured indigna- tion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about ! This road goes through to Phoenix, where I’m taking these trucks of merchandise!” I could not restrain a grin. “The manifest covering these guns and ammunition gives San Diego as their des- tination !” “There’s been a change of plan,” he blustered. “There has, indeed.” I agreed good- humoredly. “But the ‘change* wasn’t made by you, Parker, or by General Estrada. Search him, boys, and look over the car!” One gun was found in Parker’s grip, hut he produced a permit to carry the weapon. Cox and Hawtrey were delegated to escort the prisoner back to La Mesa. Curtis and I went back to the parked

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True Detective Mysteries 91 trucks and arrested the Mexican drivers and swampers. The only weapon found upon them was a spring-back knife in the pocket of one of the helpers. Two of Hopkins’ men who had joined us, were placed on guard over the trucks. We then drove rapidly back to I^a Mesa to arrest the man whom we had styled the “General.” Arrived on the outskirts of the little city, Curtis and Hopkins went in one direc- tion, and I took another path alone. About two blocks from where the Hudson was parked, I saw the “General” standing un- der a magnolia tree, conversing earnestly with another man, dark, strikingly hand- some and of distinguished bearing. I waved a signal to Curtis and Hopkins, then advanced quietly upon the two men in conference. “I am an officer,” I said courteously, in Spanish. The look of utter consternation that overspread the faces of the two conspira- tors was one never to be forgotten! At that same moment Lieutenant Curtis and Captain Hopkins came up. “Good evening, General !” As Captain Hopkins thus addressed the distinguished^looking stranger, we knew for the first time that we were in the presence of General Enrique Estrada. Both men were formally given to under- stand that they were under arrest. The man who had aided in convoying the trucks gave his name as Benjamin J.aRoque. Handcuffs were slipped over his wrists, and as I started to draw forth a second set of steel bracelets, Hopkins interposed. “We will place General Estrada upon his honor.” The General bowed. “Your trust is accepted,” he smiled, “and I thank you!” We could not but admire his gallant bear- ing in that moment when all his hopes and dreams of power, that had soared so high, crumbled in the dust by that modest roadside! Surely, he realized that weary months in a United States Federal prison lay before him, in place of the pomp and pageantry of the presidential palace in the City of Mexico; and that when he should finally come forth there would be only a choice between long years of exile — and death, facing a firing squad, if he dared return to his native land! But he met his fate with a brave smile. DURING that night, the San Diego squad of the Department of Justice operatives, reinforced by deputy sheriffs and a contingent of the Border Patrol, captured an armored truck that had been trailed to Engineer’s Spring, some 200 po- tential Mexican soldiers who were await- ing the military equipment at that place, three trucks carrying additional recruits for the revolutionary ranks, and about forty automobiles manned by Mexican officers composing General Estrada’s staff, including an aviator. It was 11 P.M. before the round-up was completed and headed back to San Diego, in a procession two miles long. A car containing Federal officers headed the parade; then followed three or four auto- mobiles with Mexican prisoners. Next came another American-manned car, fol- lowed by several carloads of the revolu- tionists, and so forth. It was 1 A.M. before the San Diego County Jail was reached. Accommoda- tions there were not sufficient for the “army” and its commanders. About 200 prisoners and all arms and ammunition had to be housed and stored eleswhere. Captain Hopkins communicated with General Smedley Butler, of the U. S. Marine Corps, explained his difficulty, and asked for assistance. Permission was promptly obtained from the Admiral in command of the Naval Base to furnish a marine guard for the prisoners. At dawn, some 400 more Mexicans, os- tensibly laborers, and assembled at a desig- nated point in the Imperial Valley, await- ing orders to cross the international line and join the Estrada offensive as soon as it should be under way, were rounded up and taken into custody. Within the next two days, all prisoners were temporarily lodged in the U. S. marine barracks. At the same time, the Federal agents seized four airplanes in- tended for the use of the revolutionists. Thus was completed the biggest single arrest in a neutrality matter in the his- tory of the United States. The conspirators were indicted and tried in Los Angeles, inasmuch as political of- fenders are not affected by the terms of international extradition treaties. This was a source of great satisfaction in this instance, as the leaders of the conspiracy were, for the most part, men of the very highest type, for whom death, as the pen- alty for misplaced ambition, would have been too stern a punishment, at least from the American point of view. ABOUT lOO men were placed on trial at one time. Fourteen of the leaders were convicted and sentenced to imprison- ment for terms varying from one year to eighteen months in the Federal Peniten- tiary, McNeill’s Island. Among those con- victed were Generals Estrada, Arniz. Sepulveda and Rodriguez, and four Mex- ican aviators, j^bout seventy-five of the Mexicans pleaded guilty and received pro- bation. Parker turned State’s evidence and was given a suspended sentence. Benjamin LaRoque fled, forfeiting his bond, and is still a fugitive. We were warmly commended for our part in averting a political upheaval within the boundaries of our sister- republic. In appreciation of our efforts, the Governor of Lower California, acting through Frank La Madrid, San Diego agent of the Automobile Club of southern California, presented Lieutenants Hawtrey, Curtis and Cox, and myself, each with a hand- some gold watch upon which our names were engraved, and beneath, in script: Agosto 1 5 dc 1926 Goberuador A. L. RODRIGUEZ — which, translated, means : August 15, 1926 Governor rA. L. 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92 True Detective Mysteries RUPTURE IS NUT A TEAR NO BREAK TO HEAL Rupture is not a tear, but purely a muscular weakness in the abdominal wall. Trusses merely brace these muscles but do not strengthen them — on the contrary, the gouging of the ordi- nary truss pad often increases this weakness as it tends to shut off circulation of the blood. STUART'S ADHESIP PLAPAO-PADS are entirely different— being mechanico-cnemico applicators — made self-adhesive purposely to keep the muscle-tonic called “Plapao" continuously applied to the affected parts, and to minimize danger of slipping and painful friction. The adhesive fabric is soft as velvet and clings to the body without straps, buckles or springs. Easy to apply— com- fortable— inexpensive. Awarded Gold Medal, Rome, Grand Prix, Paris, Honorable Mention, Panama Pacific Exposition, San Francisco, etc. For almost a quarter century] stacks of sworn testimonials from many different countries report success — without delay from work. The epidermatic absorption of Plapao utilizing “mechanico-chemico therapy" tends toward a natural process of recovery, after which no further use for a truss. Stop wasting your time and money on old- fashioned devices. Learn how to close the hernial opening as nature intended, so the rupture can't come down. Send no money; just mail the Free Test coupon below. For your own good — write today— tomorrow may be too late. FREE TEST COUPON Plapao Laboratories, Inc. 721 Stuart Bldg., St. Louis, Mo. Send me a Free 10 day test supply of the remedial factor Plapao and 48-page illustrated book on Rupture; no charge for this now or later. Nam* -T - ,,,, Address ... ODEL LADIES’ and GIRLS’ WRIST WATCH 1 Ira. platinum fancy engraved cm© with K _ I clod tip. .'■m* jewel movement. Black silk rit» wlB V w bon. Ht**rlin« rlaap complete with bo*. Sell 12 boxea famoua White CLOVERINE Salve for cut©, burn*, aoreit. 25c each (beautiful art picture FREE with each bo*), and • per plan in catalog. Our 32nd year. Be Aral. Write quick. THE WILSON CHEMICAL CO.. Dept. AF-65 TYRONE, PA. A.C.RADIO AGENTS At last, long distance “AC” \hJ A LITrn screen grid radio at price WANTEU all can pay. Wonderful tone — volume to operate dynamic speaker. All ready to plug in electric light socket and op- erate. Sell Elgins — keep your job but add $60 A WEEK PROFIT to your present income in spare time— eve- nings. A demonstration means a quick sale. Replaces battery radio. Exclusive territory worth fortune to right man — but act quick to get contract as choice territory going fast. Write or wire immediately. Don’t fail to give name of your county. ELGIN RADIO CO., 4999 N. Crawford Av. Chicago, III. “Out” on Parole {Continued from page 17) and to employ more parole officers, expect anything else than that its exultant, liber- ated, unreformed, and in many instances, unreformable crim- inals will continue to prey on life and property? Parole, as practised, is one of the “outs” that the pro- fessional criminal and his guar- dian angel, the criminal at- torney, count on in their busi- ness. If the police catch the criminal, and if the police and the prosecutor convict him, there is still probation in the offing. Los Angeles County Superior Courts granted sus- pended sentences and proba- tion to 990 in one year. Each criminal figures himself among the 990. But even if sent to State Prison, he may count on early parole. Two California State Prisons paroled 932 in one year; 119 of them were from Folsom, the prison for re- peaters. Sixteen were life-term first degree murderers. The burglars in this parole group, under our indeterminate sen- tence law, were under a mini- mum of one year, a maximum of fifteen years. They actually averaged one year, seven months! RESEARCH workers seeking remedies for crime will do well to delve deep into this sub- ject. The police can supply them with invaluable data. The police themselves have neither the training nor the time to assemble it in convincing form. They are too busy trying to protect a simple-minded, soft- hearted public from the shrewck minded, flinty-hearted crimi- nals for whom the prison doors should never have swung open. The case stories they could tell might shock the nation into appropriate action. Who Killed “Sunshine Mabel”? {Continued from page 34) when smashed by a blow of the murder weapon. This set the time of the attack at about 10 o’clock on Saturday night. A visit to the Berkeley home of her uncle gained us a fairly accurate account of how unsuspectingly the girl had met her fate. It is a cheery little house of stucco and shingles on Sacramento Street, with a pepper-tree quivering in the sunlight at the curb and pink roses flaunting their beauty at the corner of the porch — just such a lovely little home as thousands of families know. But it had now been struck with horror beyond the clean stab of grief. At 6 o’clock on that fatal evening, Mabel was enjoying dinner with her uncle ami a group of friends. She often visited her uncle’s home and knew most of his ac- quaintances. Besides, her mother had been at the Christian Mayer home for several days, nursing her brother’s wife. The families were closely linked in lov- ing ties, and much good-natured and af- fectionate banter had accompanied the girl as she left, later, to meet her tragic death. At 8 o’clock, Mabel received a telephone call from her older brother. Her father, too, phoned a few minutes later and asked when she would return home. After talking it over with her uncle, she informed her father over the phone that she planned to catch the next Southern Pacific electric train to Oakland and would arrive at the Blanch Street station, near her home, at 10 o’clock. If she had caught that train, she would probably be living to-day. Chance, how- ever, decided the question of life and death, unknown to the girl. Bidding her friends good-by, Mabel left the cottage in her uncle’s automobile at 9 o’clock. Children in the street were popping firecrackers, and she waved gaily to them as she drove away. They drove a short distance to the electric train sta- tion and learned that the train had already left. Deciding not to wait twenty min- utes for the next train to Oakland, they drove to the street-car line. THE time that Mabel boarded the street-car was fixed at about six min- utes after 9. From then until her watch stopped exactly an hour later, we were at first unable to trace her movements. The brother of the “Sunshine Girl" now told us again how he and his father had spent the Saturday evening. William and his father had occupied their time playing cards at the home of Mr. and Mrs. George Farley, 2025 Eighty- Sixth Avenue. “A quarter of an hour before we went to the Farleys,” William stated, “I tele- phoned my uncle’s home from another house and asked Mabel when she was coming home. This was about eight o’clock.

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True Detective Mysteries 93 “Our father telephoned again in a few minutes and asked how she would make the trip. She said she was coming on the Southern Pacific electric train, and to meet her at the Blanch Street station at ten o’clock. “We had a fine time playing cards until almost ten o’clock. Then I excused my- self from the party and went to meet the train. “When the train came into the station and she was not on it, I waited a few min- utes until all the passengers getting off had left, making sure that she was not on it and that I had not missed her. Then I returned to the card party and told my father. He said he would meet the next train at ten-twenty, so I went home.” The elder Mayer played cards until it was time for the next train to arrive. He then hurried down to the station to meet his daughter. He decided to call his brother’s home in Berkeley when Mabel did not alight from the train at the Blanch Street station. He walked to a near-by store, but found it closed. As the Farleys were already in bed and no telephone was accessible, Mayer went home. "Mabel had stayed overnight at her uncle’s many times before,” he said. “I supposed she had changed her mind about coming home.” THERE our case rested for several hours. In the meantime, the news- papers were shouting the chill cry of EXTRA! MURDER!” throughout the city. Telephones began to ring inces- santly as persons called to learn the latest details. We had nothing new to tell them. The publicity, however, quickly brought two men with important developments hurrying to our offices. They were E. G. Garrison and Arnold J. Porter, both street- car conductors. Garrison was conductor of the street- car Mabel Mayer had boarded in Berkeley on her way home. He recalled the girl by the green bag she had carried, which was found beside her body. He stated that Mabel had left the car in the down- town section of Oakland at 9:25, after asking for a transfer. Porter remembered helping the girl from his street-car at 9:45 P. M., near her home. He was positive of his identification, as he ri called her having tried to get off the car backward and that he had restrained her. Thus we established her movements from 6 o’clock until 9:45 P. M., fifteen minutes before her in tinier. Through Captain Wallman’s deductions, we surmised that she had walked straight up Eighty-Sixth Street from the car-line to the vacant house where her murderer ;rouched in the shadows. Our next move was the questioning of neighbors in the district to discover if anyone had actually seen the murder or perhaps the “wolf -murderer.” First inquiry gave us an added clue, and at the same time deepened the mystery. Alexander and Hamilton Brown, with their mother, Mrs. Annie Brown, had re- turned to their home at 1742 Eighty- Sixth Avenue, next door to the murder yard, at 10 o’clock Saturday evening from a motor- ing trip. Yet, they heard no screams, nor did they see anyone or suspect the ghastly scene being enacted within a few feet of them! Not a single member of the fam- ily recalled hearing an unusual noise! Shannon McDonald, of 2051 Eighty- Fifth Avenue, called at Police Headquar- ters and reported that at 10 :20 Saturday evening he had seen a man emerge from the darkness in the center of the next block and run away. He had regarded the incident suspiciously at the time, he stated. Through these two statements, we were led to believe that the “Sunshine Girl's” attacker had been frightened by the re- turn home of the Brown family and had fled over the fence and into the next avenue. Children in the neighborhood told police that they had seen lights in the basement of the house. Forcing the lock, police under Captain Wallman searched the vacant residence and the basement, but could find nothing to aid them. For almost twenty- four hours nothing new developed. Then Leo Partington, aged thirteen, and Early Stanly, eighteen, acquaintances of Mabel Mayer, made a statement that they had seen and spoken to the girl on one of the down-town streets on Saturday, a few hours before the murder. Strolling about in the central section of Oakland at about 4:30 in the afternoon, they had seen Mabel standing on a corner. With her, they said, was an older woman. Mabel recognized and spoke to them, but the woman with her said nothing. Unfortunately, they were unable to describe the woman who had been with the girl at the time. She never came forth, and her identity is unknown to this day to us. What a vital link she might have been in the chain of events was realized when we checked up the earlier happenings on the day of the murder. Mabel’s dentist remembered perfectly having treated an aching tooth, and that she had paid a bill. Miss Doris Olsen stated that the girl had visited her studio at 456 Lee Street, Oakland, just before noon and taken a music lesson. THROUGH unexpected business in the afternoon, Christian Mayer had not been able to meet the girl as had been planned. It was believed she visited the T. and D. Theater between 1 and 4 o’clock. Where had the “Sunshine Girl” been, then, between 4 :30 and 6 o’clock on Satur- day afternoon — when she arrived at her uncle’s home? We waited patiently for someone to step forward and announce having seen her during that time. Nobody reported. It was about this time that the news- papers took up actively the hunt for the fiend who had killed Mabel Mayer. One of the local papers announced that Mrs. Margaret Patterson, of 825 Olive Street, had passed the vacant house at 9 :40 on Saturday night. She stated to the press that two men, talking ex- citedly in a mixture of English and some unidentified foreign tongue, had been get- ting into an automobile parked near the murder scene at that time. Mrs. Edward Howell, alone in her home at 1745 Eighty-Sixth Avenue, said she heard a feminine scream, but was uncer- tain whether it was in pain or laughter. She fixed the time of the scream at 9:30. Neither of these events offered us anv- tliing upon which we could work, as the Savagely he fought the Sea Wolf to save her! AAADDENED at the sight of her fmn- 1 rl tic struggles. Weyden sprang to save her! Hut the Sea Wolf hurtled him back crashing through the door. All appeared lost wheu . . . Here is an extraordinary situation. A beau- tiful gil l of gentle breeding on a rough ship at the mercy of a fiend incarnate! How could she escape? What happened to her secret lover? 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WAGNER 2190 Broadway New York I Mail FREE Detective Particulara to I Name | Address j I — — — I time of the crime had already been estab- lished and Mrs. Patterson could not describe the two men who had acted so suspiciously. Fully appreciating the assistance of the newspapers in apprehending criminals through setting thousands of persons to thinking, the following chronological table was made for their benefit and for our own use. Here are the events leading up to the slaying of Mabel Mayer, as closely as we could ascertain at that time: It was at 10 A. M. on Saturday morning that Mabel left her home to have work done by her dentist and settle her account. At 1 1 :30 she kept an appointment with her music teacher, Miss Doris Olsen, of 456 Lee Street. The appointment was made by Mabel's brother, William, and kept at Miss Olsen's down-town studio in Oakland. Then, according to her father, John Mayer, the girl was to meet her uncle, Christian Mayer, at 2:30 in Oakland and attend a theater. Christian Mayer was unable to keep the appointment and did not see the girl until she came to his home at 6 o'clock for dinner. EARLY STANLY, eighteen, and Leo Partington, thirteen, saw and spoke to Mabel on an Oakland business street at 4:30 in the afternoon. With her was a woman who did not recognize the boys, or whom they did not know, and who did not speak to them. Mabel said a brief “hello” before the youths passed on down the street. Shortly after 6 P. M. Mabel was en- joying dinner at her uncle's home, Sacra- mento Street, Berkeley. At 8 o’clock she received a telephone call from her brother and a few minutes later another one from her father. William Mayer had asked if she was coming home or going to stay at her uncle’s home that night. Her father called to ask how she would make the journey home when he knew she was not to stay in Berkeley all night. Christian Mayer fixed the time she had left his home to take the Southern Pacific electric train at 9 o'clock. When they learned that the train had already gone, she was driven by her uncle to the street- car line. An Oakland-bound car picked her up at 9:06 P. M. Police determined that Mabel arrived and transferred to another street-car in down-town Oakland at 9:25 P. M. The second car took her to Eighty-Sixth Ave- nue and East Fourteenth Street. Arriv- ing at Eighty-Sixth Avenue at 9:45, she had left the street-car and walked toward her death. Alone in her home, Mrs. Edward Howell, of 1745 Eighty-Sixth Avenue, re- ported hearing a feminine scream at about 9 :30 P. M. She was uncertain whether it was in pain or not. Passing the house which was to become the scene of the ghastly murder within a few minutes, Mrs. Margaret Patterson, of 825 Olive Street, reported two men talking excitedly beside a small touring- car at 9:40. They used English and a foreign language, according to her story to the police. William Mayer, brother of Mabel, left the Farley home at a few minutes before 10 to meet his sister at the Southern Pacific train station. When she failed to appear, he returned to the Farley home where his father was playing cards, and after explaining where he had been, ex- cused himself and went home. Ten o’clock was the time the occupants of the house adjoining the vacant residence returned home from a motor trip. They heard no unusual noises. The wrist watch carried by the mur- dered girl stopped at six minutes after 10. Then, at 10:20, a man was seen to emerge from the shadows in the next street and run away. Sunday morning, at 7:15, the brutally murdered body of Mabel Mayer was dis- covered by C. M. Wilcox and L. C. Hall, who came to work on a garage at the rear of the vacant house. Thirty minutes later police arrived and were in charge. It took until 10 :30 to ob- tain the identity of the murdered girl and locate her father and brother at the home of Christian Mayer. Eleven o’clock found John Mayer and his son at the scene of the murder. With this information firmly fixed in our minds, we were again prepared to take up the dramatic search for the murderer who had, so fiendishly and apparently so causelessly, crushed the life from the fif- teen-year-old schoolgirl. IT was on the Wednesday following the killing that we received a telephone call that brought immediate action. “Is this the police station?” asked an excited voice over the phone. The desk sergeant remarked that it most certainly was the police station. “And what can I do for you, sir?” he inquired. Without any explanatory introduction, the voice made a statement that caused the desk sergeant to lose his expression of casual indifference and threw the whole Department into instant activity. “/ think the murderer of Mabel Mayer is under a warehouse near the water- front!” came the graphic expression of opinion over the buzzing wires. Sirens shrieked, cut-outs roared, police cars sped at terrific speed straight toward the warehouse. Under a deserted warehouse near Third and Webster Streets, a squad of armed police found a man with blood stains on his clothing, in a semiconscious condition. Blood dripped from wounds in his hands and across his chest. His throat was deeply gashed. Excitement prevailed when he was rushed to the emergency hospital and physicians pronounced the wounds probably old enough to have been inflicted Saturday night . For two days the prisoner was closely guarded on his hospital cot while he fought a battle against death. Late on the second day he regained consciousness, and became the target of a volley of questions. “Did you kill Mabel Mayer?” “Why did you murder the girl?” “Where did you get the wounds, where have you been hiding? Come on, give us the truth 1” . In a weak voice the prisoner protested his innocence. Slowly, his pathetic story was pieced together. He had never even heard of the tragic murder that had demanded front-page head-lines of newspapers throughout the country for the last six days. Despondent, he had attempted to commit suicide, and had crawled under the warehouse to die.

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True Detective Mysteries 95 Although disinclined to believe his state- ment at first, we were forced to admit he spoke the truth when Mrs. N. Neaces, landlady of the Avalon Hotel, presented a perfect alibi for him. She told police that the man’s name was Sclenker, that he had paid his room bill on July 3rd. the day after the murder, and that at that time he was not injured. This bore out Sclenker’s statement that he had slashed himself. With our hope of having caught the fiendish murderer of the schoolgirl vanish- ing into thin air, Sclenker was absolved of all connection with the case and re- leased after his wounds had healed. At Hayward, fiiteen miles from Oak- land, a vagrant was picked up by Con- stable A1 La Cunha and taken to the county jail as a possible suspect. He was thoroughly quizzed by deputy sheriffs, but jielded no information. After serving a short sentence for vagrancy, he was re- leased from custody. Newspaper reporters had never lifted a steady watch they had placed on the house and grounds of the murder in the hope that the “wolf-fiend** would return to the scene of his crime. An enterprising reporter discovered a few strands of blue cloth in a sliver of the door-frame at the rear of the vacant house back of which the murder was com- mitted. These strands were closely studied in the hope of gaining a description of the murderer’s clothing. Working on the theory that the crime might have been committed by someone in the neighborhood, Charles De Soto, re- porter on the Oakland Post-Enquirer, dis- guised himself in the clothes of a ragpicker and went from house to house soliciting old clothes. Returning to the office each night, his sack was emptied and all sorts of worn- out apparel gone over thoroughly in search of blood stains. His idea was that if anyone near the vacant house had com- mitted the murder, he would be anxious to dispose of the blood-saturated clothing at the first opportunity that provided the least chance of discovery. De Soto kept up his masquerade as rag buyer for almost a week before the city editor forced him to abandon his ef- forts in that direction. SUDDENLY a new specter loomed in the case. Crying ‘7 have slaughtered my ouw flesh !v ■ and mumbling incoherent phrases, including pleas for forgiveness, Herbert Hansen, aged twenty, a pipe-fitter’s helper, was found wandering in a daze not many blocks from the scene of the bloody crime. He first attracted attention when dur- ing the early hours of the morning of July 12th he appeared under the win- dows of Mrs. Fred Shelton’s home, 334 Foothill Boulevard, shouting: “I must have that girl — Pin going to have her! Where is she?’* Mrs. Shelton’s daughter. Miss Georgia Bingham, employed as a telephone operator, had been accosted by a youth who seized her arm as sh$ walked home a few hours before. She screamed and ran, easily out- distancing her attacker. Raving and apparently deranged, Han- sen was taken to the Oakland emergency hospital after his capture by police. We were unable to elicit any response to questions, except babbled phrases hinting at some crime and cries for a “Doctor Clark." While still questioning Hansen, we were notified to look for a man driving an auto- mobile with a Washington or Montana license plate. Description of the man was sent from Salinas, where an attack had been made on a thirteen-year-old Valla Vista girl who had visited the town of Salinas with her parents. She had been enticed into the stranger’s car and taken to the city limits, where she had been assaulted. ALTHOUGH it never led to anything of importance, this dispatch showed clearly the intense interest the entire State of California was taking in the hunt. Description of the man, described as middle-aged, of medium height and with red-tinted hair, was broadcast over the country. He was never apprehended. With all possible suspects dropped as unlikely to have taken part in the crime, the sole hope we possessed, in the words of Captain Wallman, was that someone knowing the murderer, or at least with inside knowledge of the crime, would “break” under the strain. Wallman and I both felt confident that every available clue had been followed to the point of exhaustion. We were against a blank wall and without a single opening on which to work. Shocked and haunted by the bloody murder of the innocent schoolgirl, I or- dered the following bulletin prepared and sent to practically every police department and most sheriffs* offices in the country. Should her murderer escape for the present, the way was paved for his cap- ture if he made a second break in the future : Police Department City of Oakland On July 3, 1927, about 7:15 A. M., the body of Mabel Mayer, a 15-year- old schoolgirl, weighing about 96 pounds, was found in the rear of premises of 1738 Eighty-Sixth Ave- nue, this city, having been murdered on or about 10:00 P. M., the night of July 2, 1927, evidently having been in- tercepted on her way from a street- car to her home, the above address being within a few blocks of her homeland vacant for a few weeks at that time. It is located in one of the residential districts of this city. Reconstructing this crime, we are inclined to believe the young lady was killed after being followed or met at the above point and carried from the sidewalk up a driveway which lies be- tween the vacant house and a vacant lot. There is no evidence of the body being dragged from the sidewalk to the property. The murder took place in the back-yard near the rear of the vacant house, where considerable blood was found as evidence of a struggle. Instruments such as a short piece of flooring 1 x 4 and about 3 feet long, sharpened at one end, and a piece 2x4. and 34 inches in length, with a nail on one end, were found near the body, and were used in the following manner: First, the board was prob- ably swung, while the fiend was in a standing position, from right to left, causing a few lacerations and several contusions on the left side of the vic- tim’s face, and later either end was $H(D® WHAT YOU Sind *1.00 with name. »o- dres* and number of article desired. Tell us: 1. How font. •t address: 2, A^e: # ) 3. Married or single: X/j 4. Name of employer; ? work; 6. How lot»i *ed. All Informatiun hel •V IO MONTHS SyUfSfcT© PAY ture of work; employed. AM ftdcnttai. No inquiries to employer, WHAT WE DO On arrnral of order, we tend your choice for approval and IB- day trial. 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Address THE AERIFORM LABORATORY 4432 Station Ave., Cincinnati, Ohio used by grasping the 2x4 in the middle with both hands and striking the face within a radius of 4 inches, taking the nose or mouth as the center and disfiguring and lacerating the mouth, nose, lower part of the frontal bone and chin, breaking the bridge of the nose, fracturing both upper and lower jaws in a number of places, lacerating the features and knocking out nearly all the teeth. Apparently the blows centered at the mouth while using the instrument in the last named manner. An autopsy showed a very thin skull, though no fracture. Apparently there was no effort to cause death by fracture to skull, which could have been easily accomplished with the above instru- ments used. Also, the autopsy showed death was caused by concussion, shock and hemorrhage. There is no evidence of assault so far as rape is concerned either after or before death, and likewise, as shown by test, no evidence that any attempt was made. No violence was used on any part of the body below the throat, and the autopsy again showed that a wound on throat having been caused by the same instrument used on the features. Because of the roughness of the piece of 2 x 4 and the other timber, we were unable to find any finger- prints on same, but a number of smears were found not only on the instrument, but also on the side of the house. A portion of a finger-print was found on her small hand-bag, picked up near the body, and not that of the victim, it being a whorl of composite pattern, elliptical in form, with fine, close ridges. While there were evidences of hands and fingers on the instruments used and also on one corner of the house, they were in the form of smears and could not be classified, but significant in this re- spect, that there were no efforts made to cover the prints. The scene of the crime was an ideal spot for that purpose, and may or may not have been selected because of its advantages, and we are inclined to be- lieve that the murderer was not wholly unprepared for the crime, as the house was not open, and instruments used were taken from the premises. We found several contusions on the left forearm, probably caused in an attempt to ward off blows, and the wrist watch worn at that time hav- ing been struck by one of these blows, causing a bent staff, ceased running, and the time showed 10:06 P. M. The body was found lying on back, with legs spread apart, the clothing rolled up under the waist, caused by the body having been dragged about 4*/< feet from the first position of fall- ing to the second position, where the murder was finally completed. The motive is unknown, but we are positive it was not for the purpose of robber v. jealousy or revenge— the habits of the young lady being ideal so far as are known at this time. We have positively no information that would give us any clue to the identity of the person committing the crime, after an intensive investigation. Above are most of the peculiarities of the crime, and I am making an effort to compare with any other sim- ilar or identical crime, or any similar crime with many of the above pecu- liarities that may have been committed in the business or residential districts of your respective cities. While we have no clues at this time, our investigation has armed us with considerable information that will be very valuable in the process of elimi- nation should another such crime be committed in this city. The usual con- sideration has been given morons, in- sane, sadists, degenerates, etc. Respectfully, Donald L. Marshall, Chief of Police. rHUS conditions stood when on the night of July 16th a shaggy-haired, queerly acting stranger padded quietly up the driveway of the Brown home, next door to the vacant house where Mabel Mayer was murdered, peered over the fence at the spot where her battered body was found, turned swiftly into the shadows — and fled. All that day and long into the evening, the usual curious crowd of morbid thrill- seekers had tramped into the shadowy backyard where Mabel had lain, drenched in her own blood. As the sun settled in the west, the yard grew gloomy under the faint glow of the street-light farther down the block. When the stranger padded softly into the yard at midnight, five persons were on the scene, three of them staring at the blood stains which still loomed gruesomely against the white house and low fence. Soft- footed, he came up the driveway, a few feet from the fence, taking the same path by which the killer had prob^ ably fled. Why had the tattered and shaggy-haired man used this route to in- spect the murder spot — something none of the other curious had done in the days and nights succeeding the murder night? Standing away from the others in the darkness, the shaggy stranger had stared with a knowing air ' at the dusky spot where the “Sunshine Girl’s” body had lain. The three curious persons who had gathered to receive a thrill from viewing the murder scene at night stood spell- bound while the stranger shuffled up to the fence and peered over. Not so two newspaper men, Willie Pale and Fred Loughrin, who had been waiting for days for this development. Quickly, Pale and Loughrin stepped toward him. With a quick glance at the newspaper men, he turned and walked rapidly down the driveway. Hurrying around the house to the street, Loughrin sped down the street until he located two uniformed policemen patrolling the district in an auto- mobile. Meanwhile, Pale attempted to trail the shaggy stranger. By the time Loughrin had climbed into the police car and it had sped to Olive Street, two blocks north of the murder scene, the stranger had eluded Pale and vanished into the shadows toward another thoroughfare. The alarm was spread, a drag-net of police and citizens formed about the dis- trict and slowly beat toward a common center — the scene of the crime. The dis- trict was combed until daylight, hut no trace of the stranger was uncovered. A description of the stranger fitted the imaginary figure we had built up as the murderer of Mabel Mayer. He was described as just short of six feet tall, well built, of dark complexion. He wore

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True Detective Mysteries 97 a shaggy, dark-blue coat from which might have come the blue strands of cloth found snagged under a splinter on the rear door of the murder house. The man’s trousers were baggy and crumpled, ap- parently of some material like that de- clared to have been worn by the attacker of six other women in near-by districts. His face was given a sinister expression by the fact that his hair was long and un- kempt and he had not shaved in some time. His movements were so swift and silent that his shoes, declared to be dusty and well worn, bore out the description of those worn by the “wolf-man” who had vented his fury on the “Sunshine Girl.” He, too, moved silently and swiftly; it was as though he wore canvas shoes to muffle his footsteps. THE description of the stranger tallied exactly with one furnished to police by Rosalie Morgan, aged fourteen, of 2205 Eighty-Fourth Avenue, who reported that a grinning, leering stranger had sprung out of the tall grass and weeds on the roadside of Ninetieth Avenue and at- tempted to waylay her on her way home from church the previous Sunday night. Although we searched far and wide, this suspect was never located. Was he the “wolf -murderer” who so brutally crushed the life from the “Sun- shine Girl”? We do not know to this day. feet. Down on their hands and knees along the roadside, they searched through the long and the short grass, hoping against hope that the telltale clue which almost every murderer leaves behind might be unearthed. Broken bits of glass — from the window shattered as the elder Dapper leaped for his son’s assailant — were carefully gathered in handkerchiefs, to be scrutinized later for finger-prints. Hardly a word was spoken as the men groped their way through the grass, but suddenly the triumphant cry of one of them stirred the others to attention. “Here’s the gun!” was the cry. The gun! IT would solve the murder ! The serial number would be easy to trace. The manufacturer would know the dealer to whom it was sold. The dealer in all likeli- hood would know the individual to whom it had gone. The solution of the crime seemed “in the bag.” At the home of Henry Dapper another scene was being enacted. A newspaper man had penetrated the solitude of the slain man’s father. He was going over the events of the night slowly and carefully, checking this detail and that with the physician’s parent. Wasn’t there one single thing that might lend light to the darkness of the crime? “Here’s a hat that doesn’t belong to me, and I haven’t the least idea to whom it docs belong.” Dapper told the reporter. Newspaper men are alert — as much so, often, as some of the most brilliant de- tectives. The reporter was scrutinizing the When the shaggy-haired stranger slipped back into the shadows from which he had come, we lost the last hope for the immediate apprehension of the murderer of Mabel Mayer. With him passed the last of the suspects. Thus to-day stand the circumstances sur- rounding the murder of the fifteen-year- old schoolgirl. Is her murderer living quietly in Oakland, umvorried by the ter- rible secret within his breast ; or is he roaming the country, a living menace to all women and girls who are alone on the streets after dark? We are confident that his crime will haunt him — that some day he will enter the clutches of the law and that, even- tually, the noose will settle tightly around his neck. If he reads this — let him be- ware. The police do not forget! NOTE: The fiendish murderer of “Sun- shine Mabel” Mayer, of Oakland, Calif., is, at the time this story goes to press, still at large. Somewhere, at this very moment, he is lurking — a living menace to other innocent persons. It is possible that someone of the hundreds of thou- sands of readers of True Detective Mysteries will sometime, by the merest chance, find a clue to his identity. A chance word, a suspicious action — spotted by some keen observer — may yet lead to the bringing of this inhuman wretch to justice. hat in a second. There was the manu- facturer’s name. Yes, and there was the name of the dealer who had probably sold it. Furthermore, there were initials, three of them, “ IV.E.B in gold letters. The hat might be the clue. The reporter had Homestead Hospital on the telephone in a few minutes, for it was from the hospital that the elder Dapper had worn the hat. “The hat* Henry Dapper wore home — to whom does it belong?” he inquired. “Why, it must be his— he wore it in here,” came back. The reporter was out of the house in a bound, headed for the scene of the crime, with the hat in his possession. Perhaps the hat belonged to one of the men who had given the Doctor and his father aid the night before. But the hat belonged to no person there who had had a hand in aiding the Doctor. The hat must belong to the stranger-slayer. Still — best make doubly certain. The per- son to whom the reporter had talked at the hospital might not have known. The hat might have been given Dapper by an orderly, or perhaps a nurse. So the re- porter was off for the hospital. Just as quickly as murder “clues” are uncovered the world over, just so quickly are they often shattered. A sure tip goes astray more often than it produces. The two clues that seemed so promising and so likely to help solve the Dapper murder were clues that went that way. The reporter, rushing breathlessly into Homestead Hospital with the mystery hat in hand, met a nurse coming down the corridor. Did You Ever Take anINTERNALBath? By M. PHILIP STEPHENSON THIS may seem a strange question. But if you want to magnify your energy — sharp- en your brain to razor edge — put a glori- ous sparkle in your eye — pull yourself up to a health level where you can laugh at disease and glory in vitality — you’re going to read this message to the last line. I speak from experience. It was a message just such as this that dynamited me out of the slough of dullness and wretched health into the sunlit atmosphere of happiness, vitality and vigor. To me. and no doubt to you, an Internal Bath was some- thing that had never come within my sphere of knowledge. So I tore off a coupon similar to the one shown below. I wanted to find out what it was all about. And back came a booklet. This booklet was named “Why We Should Bathe Internally.” It was just choked with common sense and facts. What Is an Internal Bath ? This was my first shock. Vaguely I had an idea that an internal bath was an enema. Or by a stretch of the imagination, a new-fangled laxative. In both cases I was wrong. A real, genuine, true internal bath is no more like an enema than a kite is like an airplane. The only similarity is the em- ployment of water in each case. And so far as laxatives are concerned. I learned one thing — to abstain from them completely. A bona fide internal bath is the administration into the intestinal tract of pure, warm water, T yrrellized by a marvelous cleansing tonic. The ap- pliance that holds the liquid and injects it is the J. B. L. Cascade, the invention of that eminent physician. Dr. Charles A. Tyrrell, who perfected it to save his own life. Now here’s where the genuine internal bath differs radically from the enema The lower intestine, called by the great Pro- fessor Foges, of Vienna, “the most prolific source of disease.” is five feet long and shaped like an inverted U — thus H- The enema cleanses but a third of this “horseshoe” — or to the first bend. The J. B. L. Cascade treatment cleanses it the entire length — and is the only appliance that does. You have only to read that booklet “Why We Should Bathe Internally” to fully under- stand how the Cascade alone can do this. There is absolutely no pain or discomfort. Why Take an Internal Bath? Here is why: The intestinal tract is the waste canal of the btxiy. Due to our soft foods, lack of vigorous exercise and highly artificial civiliza- tion, nine out of ten persons suffer from intestinal stasis (delay). The passage of waste is entirely too slow. Result: Germs and poisons breed in this waste and enter the blood through the blood vessels in the intestinal walls. These poisons are extremely insidious. The headaches you get — the skin blemishes — the fatigue — the mental sluggishness — the suscei>- tibility to colds — and countless other ills are directly due to the presence of these poisons in your system. They are the generic causes of premature old age, rheumatism, high blood pressure and many serious maladies. Thus it is imperative that your system be free of these poisons. And the only sure and effective means is internal bathing. In fifteen minutes it flushes the in- testinal tract of all impurities. And each treatment strengthens the intestinal muscles so the passage of waste is hastened. Immediate Benefits Taken just before retiring, you will sleep like a child. You will rise with a vigor that is bubbling over. Your whole attitude toward life will be changed. All clouds will be laden with silver. You will feel rejuvenated — remade. That is not my experience alone, but that of 900,000 men and women who faithfully practice this wonderful inner cleanliness. Just one internal bath a week to regain and hold glorious, vibrant health! To toss oft the mantle of old age— nervousness — and dull caret To fortify you against epidemic, colds, etc. Is that fifteen minutes worth while.'* Send for This Booklet It is entirely FREE. And I ain absolutely convinced that you will agree you never used a two-cent «t»mp to better advantage. There are letters from many who achieved results that seem miraculous. As an eye- opener on health, this l>ooklet is worth many, manv times the price of that two-cent stamp. Use the con- venient coupon below or address Tyrrell’s Hygienic In- stitute. Inc., Dept. 3812. 152 West 65th Street. New York City — Now. Tear off and Mail at Once TYRRELL’S HYGIENIC INSTITUTE. Inc. 152 West 65th Street, Dept. 3812, New York, N. Y. Send me. without cost or obligation, your illustrated booklet. “Why We Should Bathe Internally.” on intesti- nal ills and the proper use of the famous Internal Bath. Name. Street City The Astonishing Fate of Doctor Dapper ( Continued from page 46) State.

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Det«*n, Inc., Dept. 1889, 1770 Berteaa Atc., Chicago Flense send me full dotuiU of the Five-Day Trial offer and caay payment plan of the Deagan Xylorimba. Knrm* rr Cash in Your Pocket SELL LONG W EAR TROUSERS and BREECHES To Mechanics, Clcrlca, Chauffeurs, Truckmen, Sportsmen and others. Every man buys these wonderful values — 1 Pair $1.95, 2 Pairs S3. 75, 3 Pairs, $5.50. Hig cash commissions. 24 hour delivery guaranteed. We supply everything. Write TODAY for FREE order-yetting outfit. Dept. 12-H. LONGWEAR TROUSERS, 489 Broome St., New York. N. Y. Make Secret Investigations Earn Big Money'. Work home or travel. | i Fascinating work. Experience unnecessary.^ i I Particulars FREE. Write Dept. D. AMERICAN DETECTIVE SYSTEM | 2190 Broadway New York Name .. Address “For heaven’s sake,” she said, “where did you get that hat? We’ve been looking for it all over the place. Doctor Brown laid it down when he came in here this morning, and it disappeared !” AT the home of Henry Dapper a group • of detectives were ushered into his presence. They were elated. The solution of the killing seemed nearer, with the gun in their possession. “Here’s the gun !” one of the detectives said triumphantly, displaying the pistol that had been picked up near the scene of the attack. “Why, that’s tny gun !” Dapper said. “Where did you get it?” Then, his thoughts more collected, Henry Dapper revealed that it was a silent gun that had killed his son. “There wasn’t a sound,” he said. “The boy just slumped down in his seat and I saw* a gun in the stranger’s hand as he jumped from the car. There was no sound, and not a flash that I saw, then. The gun was silent. And my gun — well, I forgot I had it, and besides, it wasn’t loaded. It must have fallen from my pocket while I struggled with that man.” The gun the detectives found was empty. But Henry Dapper was not through so far as the detectives w’ere concerned when he identified the pistol as his. The day after Doctor Dapper’s body went to the grave, he was called to the office of Dis- trict Attorney Samuel H. Gardner, and there, surrounded by a dozen men who were sharpshooters in their profession, he was made the target of a broadside of questions. And Henry Dapper knew what that meant ! He knew that he was going through a mild third degree, because the detectives W’ere not satisfied with his explanations of various phases of the crime. In other words, they wanted to make certain that the father of Doctor Dapper was telling all he knew' about the strange murder. They w’ondered about the “silent gun,” pointing out that a silencer on the pistol would make it a rather bulky object to conceal. They questioned his statement that there had been no conversation be- tween the three men on the death ride. They thought it strange that Doctor Dapper had not told his father more of wrhv and w'hcre he was going into the country that night than the fact that he was answering an emergency call. They stressed the fact that Doctor Dap- per apparently had some reason to be fear- ful of the trip into tha country, else why did he call upon his father to accompany him ? They delved into the Doctor’s past, far back into his boyhood; into the days w’hen he was a medical student ; into his activities with regard to narcotics, the issuance of prescriptions for them and for liquor. They probed every phase of his life, his marriage, his relations with women pa- tients ; whether recent patients had died ; whether, as frequently happens, any un- balanced patients had threatened his life; and a hundred other things. But in the end they were as baffled as before. Henry Dapper came through the “third degree” — if third degree it was — writh flying colors. He had told them everything he knew, apparently, and he had not shed a single ray of light on the case other than had already been shed upon it. The murder was more of a mystery now than before. Mrs. Dapper, the shadow only of the beauty she had been before the tragic killing of her husband, next came before the detectives and encountered a similar barrage. But she, too, failed utterly in her efforts to enlighten the investigators. And then, as if to add another element of strangeness to a case that already had become one of the strangest in Pennsyl- vania’s crime annals, came an unheard-of development. The detectives working on the case sud- denly found themselves face to face with the task of proving that a wait was not the slayer, even though he said he was! J OHN MICKLEY, a youth picked up by stolen-car detectives of the Pittsburgh Bureau, while being grilled with regard to certain auto disappearances, suddenly con- fessed that he had killed Doctor Dapper! He made this confession after one of the detectives had remarked, jocularly, that he answered the description of the man who killed the physician. Pressed for details, Mickley told a w*eird story of a liquor ring with which both he and Doctor Dapper were associated, and of howf the ring had demanded the Doctor-’s life for alleged crooked dealing, Mickley was selected to take the Doctor “for a ride,” according to his confession. The story seemed ridiculous, and the detectives knew it. Yet here was a man confessing a murder that had baffled investigators for weeks 1 It must be investigated. But the investigation by the homicide men who took it up w’as not aimed at fastening the crime upon the youth who claimed he was the perpetrator. Rather, it was aimed at proving him a liar! It required only hours to do this. His story differed so much in detail from the actual facts of the crime that it was dis- proved even before Henry Dapper, called in to view the prisoner, had said very defi- nitely, though he had not seen the killer clearly, that the confessing one wfas not the front-seat companion of Doctor Dapper on the death ride. Subsequently, Mickley admitted that he was romancing. He did not realize the gravity of his confession, nor did he realize that detectives less conscientious might have worked to fasten the crime on him rather than to prove him innocent. TO-DAY — more than a year after — the murder of Doctor Dapper is still the mystery that it was. The car in which he rode to his death — a gray -green Nash — vanished as if swal- lowed by an earthquake. The Doctor’s medical case, his instruments, his prescrip- tion blanks, vanished likewise. The shattered window glass of the car picked up at the scene revealed no finger- prints. The personal effects of the physi- cian produced nothing that would supply a motive for the killing. There was no woman in the case, to the best of all knowledge; nor any known enemies who might have sought vengeance. Somewhere in the w?orld — unless the Power that rights all wrongs has inter- vened— there wanders to-day a tall, angular man who was the stranger-slayer of Doctor Dapper. But who he is and w’hcre he wanders are mysteries that are as yet un-

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True Detective Mysteries 99 solved. He came in the night to slay one whose mission was to do good in the world. And he went as a phantom, with blood on his hands and guilt in his heart. Yet he left not a trace that could be found. So here, perhaps, we have that ott- referred-to “perfect crime.” The Real Truth About Chapman — America’s “Super-Bandit” ( Continued from page 59) or about the persons who frequented it. As the detective drove slowly westward, Drayton sauntered close enough to his car to receive low-voiced instructions. ‘Tvc been sent to relieve you,” was all he heard. “You can go home.” That was enough. Drayton obeyed orders explicitly. This was one of the traits which made him valuable. While whizzing down-town in the sub- way, his thoughts took a philosophical turn. Subconsciously he patted himself on the back for his acumen in quitting a losing game. Again it came home to him how much harder crooks worked to live without working than honest folks worked to live! Like all men who lack education, Dray- ton had a great respect for those who had enjoyed all the facilities to procure it. Yet, there was this Anderson, now. he mused . they said he had college de- grees and everything . . and still, what was he but a low-down crook, sneaking into colored dives and scared to death that at any moment a hand would grip his shoulder and say he was “wanted” at Headquarters ? At Auburn. Anderson had been a domi- neering dominie to the “lags” who at- tended his classes as an escape from more arduous tasks. His sarcasm had been bit- ter and sharp-edged, but it had failed to ruffle the thick hides of his hard-boiled pupils. Drayton bore him no respect now: nor did he bear him any rancor. He fol- lowed the orders of his superiors as blindly as he had hitherto carried out the commands of the gang chiefs under whom he had formerly worked. In short. Dray- ton, the reformed crook, fitted into his new role of post-office sleuth as snugly as jelly fills a mold. AT that same hour a grim scene was being enacted in the New Jersey police station. A dozen men were lined up in the cap- tain’s office. In front of them stood the New Jersey police captain. Inspector Stone and Frank Havernack. driver of the Leonard Street mail truck. There was a gleam of triumph in the New Jersey police officer’s eyes, as he asked Havernack if he recognized the men who had held him up as being pres- ent in the line. Seven months had passed since the night of the crime, and at no time during the hold-up had Havernack had a very clear look at his assailants. Yet, until now. he had imagined that their features were engraved in his memory, and that if he should ever again encounter them he would have no difficulty in identifying them. Up and down the ranks his eyes roved. Each time they fastened themselves, as if he were hypnotized, upon two figures : one over medium height with stooped shoulders, cold, blue protruding eyes, and a full-lipped mouth : the other, shorter and stockier, his small, thin-lipped mouth twisted into an unmistakable sneer, his halt- shut eyes windowed behind horn-rimmed spectacles. He couldn't be mistaken. “Yes, they’re there!” he finally stated in a voice all the firmer and more posi- tive because of his inward uncertainty. “Put your hand on the shoulders of the men you identify as the two who held up your truck!” Even the captain sensed the contemptu- ous confidence with which the prisoners received Havernack’s formal identifica- tion. Not a word of protest passed their lips as the detectives who had stood in line with them were dismissed. Obvi- ously. they had an alibi for October 24th, on which they felt they could positively rely. Had Drayton not telephoned that he had Anderson under surveillance at the very hour on which the New Jersey po- lice captain had telephoned notice of the arrest of the two suspects. Stone would have hoped to find the “Professor” (as Dutch Anderson was called in the under- world) trapped. A few minutes’ conver- sation. now, with the stocky, bespectacled one of the pair, convinced him that Ander- son was still at large. The man caught in New Jersey spoke with a decided Mid- Western twang that was unmistakable — and it was apparent that the furthest he had ever got in cultivating culture was the lower grades. Concealing from the complacent New Jersey police chief his skepticism in regard to the importance of his cap- ture. Inspector Stone returned to New York. That night he was on his way to Minneapolis. IMMEDIATELY following his arrival in Minneapolis, after a long confer- ence with the inspector who had charge of the investigation of the “hot” bonds passed in the Twin Cities, Stone decided that there was enough circumstantial evi- dence against Stanley McCormick, Beau Brummell society light and prominent banker, to warrant his arrest. Gayly dressed stenographers wearing the first of the summer’s finery, pompous bankers, and jaunty clerks were stream- ing happily back from their noonday lunch- eon hour, as Stone drove into the finan- cial district. The offices of the Minneapolis broker- age firm of which McCormick was a member were located in one of the finest buildings. An air of conservatism and high-class stability prevailed even to the PICK YOUR JOB Railway Postal Clerks, City Mail Carriers, City Poslofhce Clerks, General Clerks, Prohibition Agents STEADY POSITIONS * These arc steady positions. Strikes, poor busincs condi- tions, lockouts or i>olitics will not affect them. 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T-17 Bloomfield, Ind. outer reception room, where a soft-voiced clerk politely asked the Inspector whom he wished to see and whether he had an appointment. McCormick had been kept constantly under surveillance from the time Sorlein had made the accusa- tion against him. From the shadow man who was on the job that afternoon, Stone had learned that the broker was in his office. Therefore, he brushed aside the girl's offer to announce him, and greatly to her indignation strode through the door which led to the stenographic department. Well- groomed young women were seated before their machines, typing busily. One or two looked up curiously as Inspector Stone strode straight to the door marked “PRIVATE,’* on the lower right-hand corner of which was the name: Stanley McCormick, It was a luxuriously furnished office in which the suspected broker sat. A heavy carpet covered the floor. The huge, plate- glass-topped desk in front of which he was dictating mail to a meticulously gowned secretary, was of rich mahogany. Three perfect pink roses in a slender crys- tal vase struck a happy note of color amid the rather somber furnishings. McCormick looked up from the letter he held in his hand, and regarded the in- truder inquiringly. The secretary’s shoul- ders automatically straightened, and there was that hint of belligerency which seems to develop in the majority of these trained feminine watch-dogs. “You are Mr. McCormick — Stanley Mc- Cormick?” the Inspector asked formally. McCormick nodded. “Yes . . You want to see me?” JUST the slightest hesitation marked his answer. Stanley McCormick was not accustomed to having strangers thrust themselves unannounced into his private office. But he must have guessed the nature of Stone’s business, for there was no resentment, hut merely suave interest in the tone of his response. “Yes. I want to see you on a private matter — alone ” How often importunate visitors had tried to crash McCormick’s sanctum with this same explanation for their proposed intrusions! And how deftly the courteous but determined private secretary had sent them about their business ! Here was a situation in which she was powerless ! “You can type these letters — take the correspondence with you. And when you have finished,” — for a moment he paused, as if a premonition of the outcome of this interview had suddenly struck him — “when they are finished . . . put them on my desk.” Both men waited until the door was closed before addressing each other fur- ther, though the young woman fumbled in picking up the correspondence and seemed to take an unnecessarily long time to make her exit. “I am from the New York Post Office, and am in charge of the Leonard Street mail robbery case. I have received a complete report of the investigations made in regard to the stolen bonds passed in this city. You are aware that Henry Sor- lein has implicated you as the one from whom he received the bonds?” The Inspector delivered each statement with the dry precision of an automaton. Though he did not wince, the broker must have received the impact of each like a physical blow. In a pleasant, earnest voice, he replied : “Does he still persist in that preposterous statement? I never knew Sorlein, though I met him once or twice possibly in the course of business transactions. When the inspector from the Minneapolis Post Office called, I told him all that I can recall of my dealings with the man. I can add nothing.” McCormick faced the Inspector and looked him candidly in the eyes. If he had been aware of the silent shadow which watched over him day and night, his ap- pearance did not show the strain. He was the personification of the man to whom the gods have been very, very kind. Strikingly handsome, he suggested a back- ground of wealth, swagger town and country clubs, perfectly equipped homes, excellently trained servants and a beauti- ful young wife. A grayish pallor had momentarily drained the color from his cheeks as he had listened to Stone’s words, but the sound of his own voice and the Inspector’s seemingly amicable at- titude imbued him with new courage. The Minneapolis authorities had been afraid to arrest Stanley McCormick, and — the thought doubtless flashed through his mind — it was presumably in the course of routine for this New York inspector to travel west and wind tip the mess which had enmeshed him ! Stanley McCormick’s charm and per- sonality had always been his greatest as- sets, and, with a rather grim sense of humor, he now prepared to exert these to their nth degree in ingratiating him- self with this New York postal cop. But before he had an opportunity to exercise these gifts. Stone had risen to his feet. “I think we had best continue this interview in the Federal Attorney's office,” he said dryly. Again that grayish pallor drained the broker’s face, to be replaced almost in- stantly with an angry flush. However, he had his temper well in hand. He rose, and went to a hat-tree from which he took a soft gray hat. “I am perfectly willing to have the in- terview take place anywhere the authori- ties wish,” he said quietly. “All I want is to have this affair cleared up so that I shall be saved from further annoyance!” STONE accompanied him while he ap- proached the desk of his secretary and gave her instructions to sign his mail herself, as he would probably not return that day. It was a long time before McCormick returned to that tranquil scat of financial activity ! The session in the Federal Attorney’s office proved devastating. Confronted with the amazing mass of data which had been gathered about him, McCormick sat dry- lipped and ashen. Stubbornly, he protested his innocence in the face of irrefutable proof of his criminal association with Sorlein. When the investigation touched on his friends and other connections, he suddenly adopted a campaign of silence. He was placed under arrest and held under very heavy bail. The news of Stanley McCormick’s ar-

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True Detective Mysteries 101 rest broke in the newspapers the follow- ing morning. It was the most sensational piece of reporting that had been published in years. Banking and brokerage circles received it with consternation, and it was the sole topic of conversation in the smartest social sets. Finding himself now quite abandoned by the men who had used him as a tool, Sorlcin made a complete statement to the authorities. As a result of this investigation a vast amount of cached loot was recovered. This included part of the Leonard Street swag, the proceeds of safe robberies com- mitted in New York City, and Montreal, Canada ; cash and securities stolen in the Chicago Union Station hold-up, and bank robberies at Table Grove, Illinois, and Cincinnati, Ohio, as well as about $80,000 in bank-notes taken in the great robbery of the United States Mint at Denver. It was soon quite evident to the in- spectors that even in McCormick they had not caught the real , controlling principal governing this extraordinary conspiracy between the upper and under worlds. The more the detectives delved into its rami- fications, the more convinced they became that the social registrite broker was shielding someone higher up. They were morally certain of the iden- tity of this personage, but, try as they might, they could not fix the goods on him. McCormick kept his lips grimly sealed. He was released on heavy bail while awaiting trial. When Stone departed for New York, he left behind him a situation unparalleled in Minneapolis society. Mrs. McCormick’s belief in the inno- cence of her husband remained unshaken. She was one of his staunchest defenders — and he had many. With true sportsmanship of the finest kind, she continued to entertain lavishly in their town mansion and their country home. Newspapers had not been backward in coming out with the statement that Stanley McCormick had been made a catspaw and that, since he had refused to divulge the name of the man behind the nefarious project, detectives were keeping his asso- ciates under careful surveillance. The identity of the “mysterious un- known’* was widely hut circumspectly dis- cussed. Under masks of well-bred gra- cious cordiality and feverish gayety, life- long friends began surreptitiously to look askance at each other. Over all was the cloud of the shadow men constantly on the trail of — whom? BACK in New York, Stone learned that the two men apprehended in New Jersey had provided incontestible alibis and been duly freed of all implication in the New York hold-up. On the other hand, the net was slowly tightening around Anderson. It was still a matter of conjecture whether Loerber, Anderson’s associate, had had any connec- tion with the crime. In order to pick up the threads, which Inspector Stone had placed in other hands upon his departure from New York, it will be necessary to go back to the day the convict-dominie was sighted and trailed by Drayton. After lunching in a Thirty-Fourth Street restaurant, Drayton and a girl friend were walking eastward in the di- rection of Fifth Avenue, planning to take a bus up-town. As they approached the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, the girl exclaimed: “Just look at that car, Paul! Did you ever see a gaudier buggy? It looks like a bumblebee !’* “It may look like a bumblebee,” Dray- ton remarked grimly, “but it’s likely to prove a carrier-pigeon for me! I’ll have to leave you right here!” The girl asked for no explanation. She was aware of the career he had adopted; in fact, she had been quite an important factor in inducing him to adopt it. Drayton hopped into a taxicab and di- rected the driver to follow the bright- yellow Pierce-Arrow car into which a man of medium height, of rather stocky build, dressed with a negligent careless- ness in clothes of good cut and material, was stepping, having just come out of the Thirty-Fourth street doorway of the fashionable hotel. Drayton had recognised him instantly as the long-sought Anderson! Though Fifth Avenue at that hour was crowded, Drayton’s chauffeur had little difficulty in keeping Anderson’s machine in view. The bright-yellow body was girdled with broad bands of black, and it was as conspicuous as a bedizened courtezan in a Quaker meeting-house. WHILE waiting for the signals to change, Drayton caught a glimpse of Anderson’s chauffeur. It was Loerber, a man with whom he had done time in Auburn 1 The Pierce-Arrow led the shadowing taxicab eastward up Park Avenue, west- ward across Fifty-Ninth and through Cen- tral Park to 110th Street. Shooting into Lenox Avenue, it drove to 139th Street, where it stopped. Anderson got out of the car and stood talking for a few minutes with his driver, who remained on his seat. Several times during this conversation he passed a large silk handkerchief across his face, and a deathly weariness was expressed in every movement of his body. Finally, he gave an impatient dismissing wave of his hand, and the Pierce-Arrow started, crossed over to the west side of the avenue and pro- ceeded down-town. Drayton had made a note of the license number in his memory ; he didn’t dare write it down on paper, which might be found on him on some awkward occasion. He then paid off his driver and proceeded to trail Anderson. After walking a block and a half, An- derson turned and looked after the Pierce- Arrow as if to make sure that Loerber had obeyed his instructions. Seeing no trace of the black and yellow car, he turned into a drug store, where he made a telephone call in one of the booths. There was considerably more spring to his step as he again reached the street and walked briskly up to 142nd, where he entered the house described by Dray- ton in his telephone call to Inspector Stone. It was close to 6 o’clock before the post-office sleuth who shortly after relieved Drayton of his watch in the garage saw Anderson leave the building. Looking neither to right nor left, EARLE LIEDERM AN, “The Muicle Builder’* Author of "Science of Wrestling" "Muscle Building.*9 " Here's Health," " Secrets of Strength " "Endurance etc . HOW STRONG ARE YOU? Can You Do These Things? Lift 200 lbs . or more overhead with one arm; bend and break a horse - shoe ; tear two decks of playing cards; bend spikes ; chin yourself with one hand. CAN you do any of them? I can and many of my pupils can. It is remarkable the things a man really can do if he will make up his mind to t>e strong. It is unnatural to be weak. 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A DOCTOR WHO TAKES HIS OWN MEDICINE Many say that any form of exercise is good, but this is not true. I have seen men working in the factories and mills who literally killed themselves with exercise. They ruined their hearts or other vital organs, ruptured themselves or killed off what little vitality they possessed. I was a frail weakling myself in search of health and strength. I sjient years in study and research, analyzing my own defects to find what 1 needed. After many tests and cxiieriments, I discovered a secret of pro- gressive exercising. I increased my own arms over six and a half inches, my neck three inches and other parts of my body in proportion. I decided to become a public »K*nefactor and impart this knowledge to others. Phy- sicians and the highest authorities on physical culture have tested my system and pronounced it to be the surest means of acquiring perfect manhood. Do you crave a strong, well-proportioned body and the abundance of health that goes with it? 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But if you are wearing glasses because of faulty refraction — far or near sightedness — astigma- tism— cross eyes — squint eyes — weak, watering eyes — eye headaches or strain — you owe it to yourself to try this course without delay. Your own trouble is clearly illustrated. With this knowledge in mind, it becomes easy for you to correct your defective muscles and gain strong sight. We are willing to send this book to you C. O. D., giving you the privilege of returning it within five days after receipt if not satis- factory, and your money will be refunded. The price is only $3.00, plus delivery charges. MACFADDEN PUBLICATIONS, Inc. Desk TD12, Macfadden Building 1926 Broadway, New York City BUCHSTEIN’S FIBRE LIMB U wot hint to your Mump — strong, root. » neat, light, fcuasy pay 7 menu. Send for cata- ' log today. > f *• Buch*t«ln Co. Fibre arm* f 610 3rd Avo. So. Braces for all deformities w Minneapolis, Minn. \Be a Detective Fascinating work, fine pay. Course of 40 easy lessons by famous Govern- ment detective, teaches all the tricks, secrets, methods, shadowing, si>otting, railroad, fac- tory, store, hotel and ]»olicc work, getting positions, etc. Only S2.00 complete. Send M. O., stamps or cash. EDUCATOR PRESS, 19 Park Row, New York, Dept. D-66 One Cent a Day Brings $100 a Month Over 135,000 Persons Have Taken Advantage of Liberal Insurance Offer. Policy Sent Free for Inspection. Kansvis City, Mo. — Accident insurance at a cost of one cent a day is being featured in a policy issued by the National Protective Insurance Association. The benefits are $100 a month for 12 months — $1,000 to SI, 500 at death. The premium is only $3.65 a year or exactly one cent a day. Over 135,000 rpaid policies of this type arc already in force. Men, women and children ten years of age or over are eligible. No medical examination is required. This may be carried in addition to in- surance in any other company. SEND NO MONEY To secure 10 days’ free inspection of policy, send no money, just send Name. Age, Address. Beneficiary’s Name and Relationship to National Protective Insurance Association. 1485 Scarritt Bldg., Kansas City, Mo. After reading the policy vou may either return it without obligation or send $3.65 to put policy in force for a whole year — 365 days. Anderson walked to the corner, where he picked up a taxicab and was driven down-town to Eighteenth Street. There he walked eastward to aristocratic Gramercy Park. With the familiar air of a resident, he entered the apartment house at No. 20 Gramercy Park, and remained there for the rest of the evening. From that time on, Anderson was kept under close surveillance by detectives of the Post Office Department. Many times lie made this identical trip, and the in- vestigators who received the shadow men’s report came to the conclusion that the tenement he visited on 142nd Street was probably an opium-den. According to the Automobile License Bureau, the number of the yellow Pierce- Arrow turned in by Drayton had been issued to “George Colwell,” his address being given as a hotel at Broadway and Forty-Third Street. An interview with the manager there brought Inspector Stone startling information. “Colwell,” the hotel manager said, was a broker, a tall, distinguished-looking man. his char- acteristic features being rather bulging eyes and a full-lipped mouth. He had been a very desirable guest, but had left a few days before without leaving a forwarding address. This address was found at post-office headquarters, a notice having been mailed there asking that all mail for “George Colwell” should be forwarded to 12 Gramercy Park. “Bulging eyes — a full-lipped mouth!" Again, the description tallied with that of the man seen with Anderson (or “Gen- sler”) in Detroit : and with the descrip- tion given by Havemack. of the second bandit in the mail-truck hold-up! Even yet. the post-office sleuths had no hint that his real name was Gerald Chapman — that Gerald Chapman. “Oil- man,” the unknown man in the Detroit hotel foyer, and the bandit of the Leonard Street hold-up. were all one and the same man. But. slowly and surely, the net was tightening. ONE early afternoon toward the end of June, a man in his early thirties, carrying himself with an erectness which suggested army training, called upon In- spector Stone. “I am George McCulley. an investi- gator for the American Express Com- pany,” he said, introducing himself with military conciseness. “Some time ago I wrote you about a man named Charles Loerber, if you remember.” “Yes, I remember.” Stone answered with his usual brevity, waiting for the other to get to the object of his visit. “Well, Tve followed up clues all over the country, and though we’ve managed to lock up several passers of the travelers’ checks, we’re no nearer to getting the hold-up men than we were in the be- ginning,” McCulley went on to explain. “This man. Loerber. may be only a fence who is trying to get rid of the checks — or he may have had an actual hand in the crime.” Stone continued to listen without com- ment. “I would like to have someone ar- range a ‘meet* between me and Loerber. What I want to do is a little roping-in. 1 have thought of posing as a stick-up man from the West . . Could you help me there?” “Yes, I believe so,” Stone said slowly. “I can send a man to you, by the name of Drayton. He isn’t a stool. He did time with Loerber in Auburn, but he has really reformed and is now helping in investigations for the Post Office De- partment. Where arc you stopping?” McCulley explained that he had taken rooms in four different hotels located in the neighborhood of Herald Square. The New York Police Department had as- signed him three men to do shadow work, and he had figured it would be safer to meet them in several hotels in case spies of the underworld should notice and com- ment upon the regularity with which the detectives visited one particular hotel. STONE immediately summoned Dray- ton, and instructed him to take orders for the next few days from McCulley. McCullcy’s disguise as “Jimmy Mc- K night,” bold, had Western stick-up man and bank robber, was excellent. His clothes were models of the “city slicker” type ; ready-mades, with the latest thing in a pinch-hack coat ornamented with a narrow strap and fish-tail sleeve cuffs: his bulging shoulders threatened to burst the narrow hack, and his brawny hands, bronzed complexion and rugged features just helped to caricature the foppish at- tire. Drayton “ran into” Loerber in a saloon; it was the dingy speak-easy where In- spector Seville had made Loerber’s ac- quaintance. Loerber seemed ready enough to meet Drayton halt-way. In the course of their conversation, it developed that the former had very few friends in the underworld. It is not etiquette in the underworld to ask personal questions, so Loerber’s occu- pation a? chauffeur for Anderson was not touched upon. Casually enough, however. Loerber asked Drayton whether he ex pected to stay long in New York. “That depends,” Drayton answered with a grin. “There’s a pal of mine here — a big stick-up man from the West — and he wants me to help him get rid of his roll. So for a while we’ll both belong to the idle rich. I’d like you to meet him some time. Charlie. You’ll find Jimmy McKnight a prince.” “All right, bring him up some time. I’m usually free in the evenings. But I’ll have to ask my girl friend, Lucy. When I have any spare time, I like to spend it with her !” “ ’S O. K. with me. Got a girl for Jimmy, too?” “Lucy’ll take care of that !” Loerber promised cheerfully. Sheer persistence and bulldog tenacity have brought the post-office sleuths al- most to their goal. Do Chapman and Anderson feel the net closing ruthlessly in on them? When the bolt falls — will they use that boasted supercunning, that spectacular daring, for which they were famous in one last desperate effort to escape? — The crisis comes in this thrill- ing true-life melodrama, in the conclud- ing instalment next month— True De- tective Mysteries for January, on all news stands December 15th. Don’t miss it!

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True- Detective Mysteries 103 The “Burning Ghost” of Lake Nebagamon ( Continued from page 64) whatever punishment was meted out to him. Feeling seemed to be that they had suffered greatly during their three years of flight, haunted by a memory of that one night and fearful each moment of the net closing down about them. WHATEVER fears Dorothy Ander- son might have had of her reception at the hands of Sailstad’s relatives were dispelled when his aged mother and his brothers paid their first visit to the jail. Mrs. Augusta Sailstad took the girl in her arms and kissed her. “If Ed loves you so, how can I do other- wise?” she exclaimed. On December 28th, 1923, Sailstad and Dorothy pleaded guilty to the arson charges, and stood with bowed heads and tears running down their cheeks as they were sentenced to four years* imprison- ment, he in the State Reformatory at Green Bay, she in the Wisconsin Indus- trial Home for Women at Taycheedah. The parting between the couple took place in secret, but apparently they re- newed their vows of constancy, for both were smiling as they took a more formal farewell in the jail office and were taken off in different directions. Sailstad was paroled a year and a half later, and a few days later was waiting at the gates of the women’s prison when the girl walked out, also on parole. That same day, June 2nd. 1925, they were married, and disappeared. The end was not yet, however. Sev- eral weeks later residents of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, awoke to the fact that an industrious young mechanic living with his pretty wife in a little cottage on the outskirts of the city were the principals in the famous Sailstad death hoax and elopement. Of course they became immediate ob- • jects of curiosity. Every time Dorothy appeared on the streets, she was pointed out and her story retailed. Her visits to the butcher and the grocer became night- mares to her, as she saw the glances di- rected at her and caught the whispers be- hind her back. Sailstad, too, was finding it hard to bear the stares and coarse jokes he could not help overhearing. He began going to and from his work by way of side streets and alleys. At night the shades in the little cottage were drawn to foil “Peep- ing Toms.” Eventually the strain began to tell on both. Then Sailstad was struck by an automobile and, it was revealed later, crawled on his hands and knees to the cottage. Fearing to call a physician lest it bring more undesirable publicity, he suffered in silence, with only “The Sun- shine Girl” to attend him. When he was convalescent she collapsed, her resistance weakened by incipient tuberculosis. Under the terms of their paroles, they were forbidden to leave the State of Wis- consin until the date on which their four- ! year terms would have expired. Sailstad at once wrote to the Governor, 1 pleading for permission to take his wife and flee from the wagging tongues that made their lives miserable and denied them the chance to forget if they could. Governor Blaine was merciful. He is- sued a formal order setting aside the re- strictions of their paroles. As soon as it became official, Sailstad and his wife crept from their cottage by night, and they have not been heard from since. The Sinister Mystery of Baringer Manor (Continued from page 21) which elapsed until September twenty- ninth, the day Mrs. Rogers is said to have left Louisville on a trip to Chicago, I never laid eyes on the woman. She was a model tenant and made no demands.” HE explained that although he and his wife had rooms in the basement, they were not at home on the night of October 7th. It was Sunday night, fairly warm for October, and there was no fire in the furnace to keep up. So they had gone to spend the evening with his wife’s relatives. The first he knew of the dis- appearance of the tenant in Apartment 14 was when he was asked to enter through the window and open the door for Colonel Rogers and his party. He cut a window- pane, as he had no key. He explained that he never had keys to rented apartments. After he was requested by Colonel Rogers to fix the fuse, he said, he found that the fuse was not blown out but was unscrewed just enough to cut the cir- cuit. It is not an unusual thing for an electric- light fuse to blow out in an apartment house of that size, but it was quite un- usual for someone to unscreu* a fuse in one particular apartment. There were j twenty-seven meters in a row along the basement wall, each in a small box locked with an automatic spring. If it was tampered with, as the janitor said, it must have been done by someone who knew the lay of the building, which box be- longed to Apartment 14, and how to open the box. Could the manipulation of the ligfijs have been a trap to entice the woman into the basement, we asked ourselves? On the other hand, there was a tele- phone in the janitor’s rooms for use of the tenants when service was needed. Wouldn’t it have been the most likely thing for Mrs. Rogers to have telephoned the janitor rather than to have attempted to go into the basement alone? Still — she might have done so — and, the janitor being absent, received no answer The apartment in which she lived was of the modern efficiency type — a living- room, dinette, kitchenette and bath. The only entrance was through the main hall. ! The apartment was sandwiched in between j two other apartments, so to speak. If Mrs. Rogers went toward the basement, she would have had to pass the door of Do you want to be a Good Boxer? Do you want to be able to put the gloves on with any of your pals, and more than hold your own? Do you want to know how to defend yourself if attacked? 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After you’ve mastered the fundamentals, you next learn every good blow and guard used in the ring — how to land the blow, where to land it, and how to guard against your opponent's counter. Then we teach you Shadow Boxing — take you through three lively rounds for daily practice; this develops your speed and wind. To develop you physically, we give you a com* plete set of muscle-building and breathing exer- cises. And to complete your knowledge of self- defense we teach you 15 jiu-jitsu holds and 14 wrestling holds — how to disarm an opponent, how to break a strangle hold, etc. With the course we give you FREE a History of World Famous Boxers — their pictures, ring- side views, and descriptions of their style, inside stories, etc. Complete Course $ This famous coursa for- merly sold for $5.00. Now you can have it on trial for $2.97 — 6 volumes of 30 complete lessons and over 200 illustrations. 97 PI as Actual Postage 10-DAY TRIAL SEND NO MONEY Simply fill in and mail the coupon for a 10- day trial. When you have the course in your hands, deposit $2.97, plus actual postage, with the postman. Then use the course for 10 days. We’re sure you’ll go on with it, and there is nothing more to pay. But if for any reason you arc not entirely satisfied, return the course and get your deposit back at once. MARSHALL STILLMAN ASSOCIATION Dept. 12-E, 247 Park Avenue New York MARSHALL STILLMAN ASSOCIATION Dept. 12-E, 247 Park Avenue, New York. N. Y I Send on 10-day approval complete Self-Deh I will dci>ostt $2.97. plus postage, with Course. _ . postman. I will return course in 10 days satisfactory and money will be refunded. if no t I I City. I (Outside U. S. A. . . . State .... ish with Order)

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Painting delivered flat— not rollt COLOR ART STUDIO 1H9 Broadway New York Cl another apartment. It would have been necessary for her to have passed an apart- ment should she have gone through the front entrance. There was also a side en- trance a few feet from her door, but it led into the main court and in front of scores of other apartments. If she left the apartment voluntarily, she evidently did not intend to stay very long. She wore no coat or hat, and Harned de- scribed the dress she wore during his visit as being black with short sleeves and a white yoke. Lorraine Smith declared that this was one of the oldest costumes she possessed, and was merely used as a ‘'slip-on** in the house. The young widow was very fastidious, and the costume would not have been at all up to her standards of style. When the lights went out, was it a sig- nal from someone waiting in the alley ? The basement was about thirty steps from her entrance door. Three feet fur- ther was a door leading into an alley where machines could park. My thoughts went hack to the unidenti- fied telephone message Harned said she received between 6 and 7 o'clock on the evening of October 7th. Had she then made an appointment to meet someone at the door leading into the alley? But the minimum temperature on that evening was about fifty degrees, which would have been chilly without a wrap even in a closed machine. It seemed hardly likely that she would have left the house in a short-sleeved dress, without a hat, even for a short motor ride. IF she had been kidnapped, why was there no demand for ransom? Could it be possible that someone desired the death of this lovely young widow to satisfy some ulterior motive? I found myself asking, “Why? Why? Why ?“ For every clue, there was a counterclue. For every apparent solution, there was a contradiction. Then I began to wonder if everything really was as serene in the life of Ella McDowell Rogers as outward appearances seemed to indicate. I called Mrs. Heck at Chicago over the telephone, and had my first shock. Mrs. Heck said that her friend, Ella, had not visited her since Christmas, ten months before she disappeared. Mrs. Heck said, also, that she had not heard from Mrs. Rogers since she was reported to have been missing, and did not know where she had been the week she was supposed to have visited her in Chicago. Where, then, had Ella Rogers really been, the week before she disappeared? That question was apparently answered when Mrs. Rogers’ grips were opened. There were evidences that she had been to New York. There were two programs from the “Follies,” soap from the Mar- tinique Hotel. New York City, and New York tags on one of the grips ! I then learned from a saleswoman at one of the exclusive shops that Mrs. Rogers had bought a brown velvet eve- ning dress at the shop on September 27th. There were some alterations to be made, and she said that she wanted it at once as she was leaving the city on September 29th. The missing woman called at the store, according to the saleswoman, on Saturday afternoon, September 29th, and took the velvet dress home with h*r. Harned. it will be remembered, said that he came through Louisville on Sep- tember 29th en route to the bankers* con- vention at Philadelphia. But he did not see Mrs. Rogers, he insisted. Harned declined to state at what hotel he registered in Philadelphia. He said that the only time that he saw Mrs. Rogers from the day he left Dawson Springs on September 29th until he re- turned was in her apartment on the after- noon of October 7th. HE explained his telephone calls to the home of Mrs. Bell during the week which followed by saying that Mrs. Rog- ers had told him. if he could not locate her at home, he possibly might find her at Mrs. Bell's. Asked if his calls to the home of Mrs. Bell were actuated by a fear that something might have happened to the young woman whom he left in the dark, he merely declined to answer. A teacher in the Louisville Girls’ High School, with whom the missing woman had been studying English, said that Mrs. Rogers had told her that there was a man in Chicago who was “crazy” about her. He had been in Louisville during the spring races, but the teacher could not recall his name. I wondered if this could have been the “Joe” or “Jack” who. Harned said, telephoned between 6 and 7 o'clock? Then came the information that Mrs. Rogers had engaged rooms at the time for her Chicago friend at St. Joseph’s Inn, but that she referred to him as “Mac.” He did not sign the register. She went to the races with him every day, residents of the hotel said, and although she never came into the hotel with him. she frequently waited in a machine out- side. Who. now, was “Mac”? Examination of Mrs. Rogers’ belong- ings disclosed scores of letters to her from someone signed “Mac.” The tone of the letters would indicate that “Mac” was a rather nice sort of person who was very much infatuated with the young widow. There was nothing for me to do but find “Mac,” and it was not an easy task. I finally learned that “Mac” was a traveling salesman in Chicago who lived with two sisters at a hotel of excellent reputation. (T am withholding his name at his request.) He told me that there had been a misunderstanding between Mrs. Rogers and himself, and that he had not seen her for more than six months. I was convinced that his story was true, and that “Mac” represented just another clue gone to the winds. So I was still on the trail of “Joe” < r “Tack.” At this juncture the Courier-Journal and the Louisville Times stepped forward and offered a reward of $1,009. Ten thousand circulars were sent throughout the country authorizing the payment of $500 for information leading to the dis- covery of the whereabouts of Ella Rogers, or the recovery of her body should she he dead, and an additional $500 for in- formation leading to the conviction of her murderers, should it be established that Mrs. Rogers was slain. WHAS, the radio broadcasting station of the Courier-Jour- nal and Times . was also put into action, and bulletins were broadcast daily asking

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True Detective Mysteries 105 the nation to assist in the hunt for the missing widow. Residents of Baringer Manor were not the type to seek publicity. Their one wish was to keep their names from print, if possible, although they were willing to give any information they might possess in an effort to assist in the investigation. One morning I called on the young woman who lived in the apartment di- rectly next to Mrs. Rogers’. Neighbors sometimes know a good deal. I will refer to my informant, in this instance, as “Mrs. B./* for convenience. , She was under the impression that Mrs. Rogers must have been in the city during the week which followed her disappear- ance. She explained that Wednesday of that week a coat was delivered to Mrs. Rogers’ apartment. The bundle boy knocked at her door and asked her to re- ceive the package. She kept the bundle several days, hoping to get in touch with Mrs. Rogers. The telephone rang in Mrs. Rogers’ apartment constantly during the week, but there was no answer. She and her husband, she said, were leaving the city for the week-end and, fearing that the young widow might return and need her coat, she called Phillip Haynes, the janitor, and left it with him. At the same time, Mrs. B. gave me an- other interesting tip. She recalled, she said, that one Sunday evening in October (and she was inclined to believe that it was the night of October 7th), as she and her husband were enter- ing the apartment building, they saw a man leaning over as it he were examining the names on the door-bells. As they entered, he asked them if they could di- rect him to Mrs. Rogers’ apartment. “I ITT' are going that way,” they VV answered him, and he walked as far as her door with them. He was between fifty-five and sixty, Mrs. B. said, with a touch of gray in his hair. He was swing- ing a cane over his arm. He knocked at Mrs. Rogers* door, and as he did so she opened it and stepped on the mat outside, extending her hand, and smiled. “I can see her now,” Mrs. B. declared, “her face wreathed in smiles. She was dressed in brown. Mrs. Rogers affected all shades of brown because it was extremely becoming to her brown eyes and auburn hair. I cannot conceive of her receiving any guest in the costume de- scribed by Mr. Harned. She was very stylish and well-groomed. We paid no further attention, and as we stepped into our own apartment my husband remarked in jest, ‘Well, it looks like our little neighbor is an old man’s darling !’ ** As soon as the story giving the descrip- tion of the old man appeared in the papers, we were deluged with confidential tips as to Mrs. Rogers’ private affairs. One was to the effect that she had met a millionaire on the train returning from New York, who had become infatuated with her and followed her to Louisville. Perhaps the most widely voiced ru- mor was that Mrs. Rogers had committed suicide after a tilt with the young banker, Harned: but this was denied by Harned in a telephone message to the Courier- Journal , in which he is quoted on the morning of November 28th as saying: “Oh, no, nothing like that!” With the theory of suicide uppermost in the minds of the public, I was startled one morning by a sudden call from the city editor. ‘It is practically certain that Mrs. Rogers’ body has been found,” he said. “A suicide from poison!” Like wild-fire the report spread, and Louisville went wild. News had come from Elkhart, Indiana, that a young woman, about twenty-nine years old, with bobbed auburn hair neatly marcelled, had been found dead from the effects of carbolic acid in a room at the hotel there. According to the information sent to police headquarters here, she had come into the town quietly about October 15th; her actions appeared strange, and she seemed to be very sad. Her dead body was found in her room on the night of October 17th. Authorities at Elkhart had placed the b<xly in a morgue, hoping someone would call to claim it. One of the reward cir- culars reached the little town, and they immediately notified the Louisville au- thorities. The Courier-Journal ordered an airplane for a quick trip to Elkhart. The face of the dead woman was so disfigured from the poison that careful examination would be necessary to establish positive identi- fication. The report brought forth the story from Ernest Tenell, a taxi driver, that early in October he had received a call to Baringer Manor about 7 o’clock one morning. A young woman answering the description of Mrs. Rogers, he declared, was waiting for him at the entrance and entered the cab. She asked him to- drive her to the Union Station as she wanted to catch the morning train for Chicago. The woman wore a black coat trimmed with black fur, and a small black hat. She read two letters on her way to the station. One of them she read several times and then re- marked : “This is a troublesome world, isn’t it?” The driver answered, “Yes, I have a lot of trouble myself.” She then replied, according to his story: “So have I, and I am certainly into a lot of it now !” Meanwhile, the Courier- Journal tele- phoned a description of the missing widow’s teeth and dental work to a dentist at Elkhart, who made an immediate ex- amination definitely establishing the fact that the body of the carbolic acid victim was not that of Mrs. Rogers. IT had been an exciting day, and it seemed for a time that “the mystery of Baringer Manor” had been solved ; but just one more clue had gone up in smoke. Worn and weary, the reporters took up the trail once more, and when I went to bed that night my thoughts were again centered on the telephone message Harned said Mrs. Rogers had received between 6 and 7 o’clock from “Joe” or “Jack,” and the dapper old gentleman swinging the cane on his arm. Finally, I began to won- der what had become of the coat Mrs. B. said she gave to Phillip Haynes, so I de- cided that first thing next morning I would pay another visit to the former janitor. Phillip Haynes was the modern, inde- pendent type of Negro with a manner that suggested he was attempting to give one the “high-hat.” CaflDoTtts I ’ll ADD One Inch To YOUR Biceps IN 30 DAYS -or You Pay NOTHING! By CHARLES ATLAS I DON’T care how old or young you are, or how * ashamed of your present physical condition you may be. If you can simply raise your arm and flex muscle I GUARANTEE to add one full i: your i I inch to your biceps — yes, on each arm — in 30 days! No cost, if 1 fail. 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Illinois “Phillip,” I asked, “what became of the coat Mrs. B. gave you for Mrs. Rogers?” “I left it with my successor, George Adams,” he answered. , George Adams, who had succeeded Haynes as janitor at Baringer Manor, occupied, with his wife, the same rooms in the basement which had been occupied by Haynes and his wife. The janitor’s apartment consisted of a bedroom, kitchen and bathroom, with a telephone for the convenience of the tenants should service be needed. I called there immediately, and made knowm my errand. George produced the suit box from the top of the kitchen cabinet, and we opened it. It contained a dark-brown coat with a small fur collar, bearing the mark of one of Louisville’s exclusive women’s shops. At the same time I asked George if he could let me in the Rogers apartment, and he answered that he had turned over the key he had only that morning to H. C. Davis, manager of the building. He explained, as had Phillip Haynes, that it was not customary for the janitor to hold keys to rented apartments. I asked him where he got his key, and he said that it was on the ring of keys delivered to him by Phillip Haynes. I made no comment, but wondered. Haynes had insisted from the start that he did not have a key to the Rogers apartment. I was standing in the doorway of the janitor’s apartment, pondering over the puzzle of the key, when my eye became riveted on an old trunk in a dark, musty comer of the basement. I had a flash- light with me, and went over to examine it. It did not seem heavy, but something in it rattled. I moved the trunk, and under it and behind it were large, ugly, reddish-brown spots! MY flesh began to creep and my blood grew cold. About three feet enuay ivas the electric-light meter to Apart - ment 14. Had the manipulation of the lights, then, really been a trap to entice the miss- ing woman into this lonely spot? Could she have been foolish enough to have at- tempted to go into that basement alone? Were those ugly spots actually blood? I began to shudder. On my way back to town, I stopped at the shop to see what I could learn about the coat, and found that it had been de- livered to the Rogers apartment by mis- take. The store had been trying to lo- cate it for weeks, and the manager thanked me profusely for the information. At the same time I learned about the purchase (previously referred to) by Mrs. Rogers of the brown velvet evening dress for which she had called on the afternoon of September 29th with the remark that she was leaving on the night train. From the shop I went to see Julian Bradbury, owner of Baringer Manor, and asked him to allow me to search the base- ment, examine the spots and open that trunk. He immediately agreed and gave me permission, as a representative of the Courier-Journal, to have the spots ex- amined. I discussed the matter with the city editor, and he authorized me to em- ploy a chemist. In less than two hours I was on my way with Doctor McNeil, one of the State’s foremost chemists. Dick Rennison, member of the Courier-Journal news staff, went with us. We stopped to get an afternoon paper. It carried a gruesome head-line : SCREAMS HEARD IN BARINGER MANOR ON THE NIGHT OF OCTOBER 7! The story, in part, ran as follows: “Three distinct screams of a woman were heard in the Baringer Manor Apartments on the night of October 7th, the night Mrs. Ella McDowell Rogers, pretty 29-year-old widow, disappeared from her apartment under puzzling cir- cumstances that have not been explained, it was learned Tuesday by the Times. “Joseph Lazarus, attorney and member of the Board of Sinking Fund Commis- sioners, who lives with his mother in the apartment house, said that on a Sunday night he heard screams which ‘made my 1 lood run cold/ “The exact date of the cries was not fixed definitely by Mr. Lazarus, but he said that another occupant of the building had informed him it was October 7th, recall- ing the date through the fact that her children were visiting her that day from Lafayette, Indiana. “Police investigating the case and Ira W. Rogers, father-in-law of the missing woman, have known of the screams since publication of the news of the disappear- ance of Mrs. Rogers, it was revealed. “ ‘It *was on a Sunday I heard the screams, I am sure,’ declared Mr. I^azarus. ‘I was suffering from a cold and had gone to bed about five o’clock in the afternoon. My mother was away from home. I cannot say the time of night, but I heard three distinct screams of a woman that seemed to come from the rear on the first floor. “ T made no investigation, because I was ill and thought it might be some domestic trouble between a man and wife in which I did not desire to become involved. I was so impressed that I looked in the newspapers the next morning to see if there had been any trouble of any kind in the neighborhood, hut there was no report. “ ‘I have been reliably informed that other residents heard the screams, and have fixed the time of the screams as the night of Mrs. Rogers’ disappearance. Detec- tives were apprized of the fact.’ “ A WOMAN resident of Baringer \ Manor, whose name was withheld, corroborated Mr. Lazarus’ statement. She said : “ ‘On Sunday, October seventh, some of my children motored down from Lafay- ette, Indiana, to visit me. We had tea in the afternoon. Other neighbors came in to call in the evening. To the best of my recollection it was between eight and eight-thirty o’clock wdien we were startled by three screams of a woman. There were three distinct, HARROWING, AWFUL SCREAMS. “ ‘My son-in-law went out to the side- walk, but saw no trouble on the street, and returned. Later other residents of the apartments called, and they inquired whether we had heard the screams. We told them we had. “ ‘The matter has been common talk among tenants of the building. The

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True Detective Mysteries 107 morning the disappearance of Mrs. Rogers was reported in the Courier Journal, my husband called up Mr. Ira Rogers and informed him of the circum- stances, and was thanked/ ” Simultaneously with the foregoing news item came the announcement from \V. Clarke Otte, Commonwealth’s Attorney, that a “personal investigation with the view of obtaining grand jury action” had been started through his office. “The first definite clue in the mystery will bring about the jury probe,” Attor- ney Otte was quoted as saying. “There are some very peculiar circumstances sur- rounding the case which must be investi- gated for the public good, and I am go- ing to do it.” The spots loomed more than ever, now, as a possibility after we had read these items. Doctor McNeil, Rennison and I hurried out to Raringer Manor. THERE were evidences that painters had been at work in the building, for a num- ber of paint cans lay scattered around. Our chemist examined some spots further down on the wall near the paint cans, which he announced were red paint. Then he looked more closely at the spots in the corner. They were not the same, he said. It was not paint, he noted, but he could not say without a chemical test just what it was. He used a chemical and a tube to draw enough of the matter into a glass con- tainer to take to his laboratory for ex- amination. We did not have the authority at that time to open the trunk, as the owners of the building wanted to ascer- tain. if possible, to whom the trunk be- longed: but they had promised me that when it was opened I could be present. While we were in the basement. Doctor McNeil went carefully over the ground, taking samples from everything which looked suspicious. We went into the fur- nace room, and he took samples from the floor there as well as some just outside the door, and then again at the steps lead- ing down from the main hall. As we left, George Adams, the jani- tor. informed us that he had been in- structed to notify detective headquarters just who came in and out. We, accord- ingly. gave him our names. Although the police department con- tinued to maintain a secretive attitude to- ward the press, it was becoming so openly active that its work was practically an (•pen secret; therefore, as the story pro- ceeds, it will appear more and more in the picture. Reporters continued also to push forward their own free-lance investiga- tions. and from outward appearances seemed to keep even pace with the de- tectives. With the announcement that screams were heard in the building on the night of October 7th and the discovery of “pe- culiar spots on the basement floor.” it leaked out that the detective bureau was working on the theory of foul play, and that its sleuths, also, had taken samples of the substance of the spots to Doctor Vernon Robbins, city chemist, for ex- amination. together with other articles tmmd in the search of the premises. Commonwealth’s Attorney Otte and de- tectives made careful examination of the furnace, incinerator, lockers and other things in the Raringer Manor basement. The detectives spent several days in go- ing thoroughly through the entire build- ing and in sifting ashes from the in- cinerator. They spent an entire day in Mrs. Rogers’ apartment, none other than police officers being allowed to enter. Letters, a jewelry box and several other articles were taken from the apartment. Six dresses, two coats, two hats, numer- ous silk stockings and undergarments, numerous pairs of shoes, toilet articles, including face powder, facial creams, lip- sticks, tooth-paste, three tooth-brushes, cosmetics and one comb, were among the items noted, indicating clearly to the de- tectives that Mrs. Rogers had not in- tended to leave the city when she left her apartment. HAYNES, nervous and excited, burst into his home one day while a re- porter was questioning his wife, also formerly employed at the Raringer Manor Apartments. Just before he arrived, his wife told the reporter that she had feared for her husband’s life ever since a woman dressed in black had come up to him and said : “Know nothing, say nothing, or maybe you'll meet the same fate as Mrs. Rogers !” Haynes declared, when questioned, that he would make no more statements in re- gard to the case. After reiterating that he “wasn’t going to say a thing” and asserting that detectives had warned him not to discuss the matter, he declared : “I don’t know a thing. Me and my wife never saw Mrs. Rogers while we were working at those apartments !” Meantime, the furnace angle had not been abandoned. A handful of small, chalky bits of a powdery substance was taken by police from the air chamber of the Raringer Manor furnace and carefully guarded. Detectives thought the pieces might prove to be incinerated human bone and might furnish a clue to the mystery of the young widow’s disappearance. Wallace McDowell, of Cincinnati, a brother of Mrs. Rogers, declared the bits closely resembled burned human bone structures. McDowell, who was an un- dertaker. declared the pieces were identi- cal in appearance to ashes of his son, whose body was cremated. He pointed out a porous surface on the little chunks, and said that nothing else in the sifted ashes of the air chamber resembled them. Nick Temple, First District plain- clothes detective, who was assigned with Delbert Eggers, his partner, to the Rog- ers mystery, started a sift of the air box. Only a small pile of the ashes was raked out at one time and gone over thoroughly. Persons familiar with the operation of large heating plants declared that the chalky substance did not resemble either ordinary furnace scale or any other ma- terial they had ever seen in ashes from a coke fire. Air-chamber ashes are fine and powdery, and accumula*e only by be- ing blown by the draft of the furnace partly up the flue, where they fall through an opening into the air box. The sup- posed bone pieces were very light, and crumbled easily. George Adams, negro janitor at the apartments, said table scraps or any other material which might contain bones were Clyde Doerr, Famous Buescher Saxophonist You can hear him “on the air” and on Victor and Cameo Records. 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FOUR grate bars previously taken from the furnace were located and held by the police. Two bars were held for ex- amination along with a monkey-wrench, stained with some foreign fluid that de- tectives believed might prove to be blood, and a charred strip of metal, apparently the back of a bar pin. Investigators of the disappearance of Mrs. Rogers considered these articles out- standing among evidence collected in a search for a yet undiscovered clue. More burned-out grate bars were found stacked on the floor near the furnace. Adams said most of the grate bars were there when he succeeded Haynes as jani- tor on October 29th. He said that he had since pulled out pieces of grate bars while stoking the furnace. The ruined grate bars indicated, according to some observers, that there had been intense heat in the furnace. The distance from the hall entrance of Mrs. Rogers’ apartment to the steps lead- ing to the basement is thirty steps. Three feet further is a door leading to an alley in the rear of the building, the rear en- trance for Apartments 13 to 27. If Mrs. Rogers did go into the base- ment, she descended fourteen steps. It is six ordinary steps a person takes in walk- ing to the door of the laundry, fourteen more to the door of the apartment of the janitor, and twelve more to the electric meter for Apartment 14. The furnace in Baringer Manor was undoubtedly large enough to admit a human body. Such were the items noted in the inves- tigation into the furnace angle. CHARLES LANFROM, resident of Baringer Manor, who had been in the East during the early weeks of the in- vestigation, now told a gruesome story on his return to the city, corroborating the reports of screams heard by other tenants. His statement follows : “I heard three shrill, harrowing screams coming from the direction of the basement on the night of October seventh and left my apartment to make an investigation. “After I heard the screams, which also were heard by other persons in the building, I went down as far as the head of the steps to the basement. There I heard heavy breathing, which nearly amounted to moaning. “The basement was dark, and I hesi- tated going there unarmed to make fur- ther investigation. I retraced my steps toward my apartment, intending to get my revolver before going into the base- ment. When I told my wife about it, she objected to my going into the basement and persuaded me not to go down. “I walked through the hall and passed the open door of another apartment, where the occupants had heard the screams and were talking about them.” Lanfrom detailed that on the night of October 10th he again heard screams in the rear of the building. Because of the previous experience, he made inquiry, which developed that a negro woman had stabbed a negro man with an ice-pick. The screams on the night of Mrs. Rogers’ disappearance remain unexplained to this day. A CHECK on past activities of Phillip Haynes, the former janitor, by re- porters, revealed that he had a police record. Investigation disclosed that he had been in a shooting fray with another Negro about six months before Mrs. Rogers dis- appeared. A warrant charging shooting without wounding had been issued against him. When his case was called in the police court, he did not appear, and a bench warrant was ordered. It had never been served. He had been discharged as janitor — so Julian Bradbury, owner of Baringer Manor, told me — on account of frequent complaints of “impertinence,” made by women tenants. With indications growing stronger each day that Mrs. Rogers had met with foul play in the basement, and reports that Haynes had a “past,” his arrest on the old charge followed four hours of ques- tioning in the office of the Commonwealth’s Attorney, during which it was noted that there were discrepancies in his story. “The discrepancies, however,” Captain Ray Yarberry, Chief of Detectives, ad- mitted, “may have been actuated by fear as the result of his knowledge that he was under suspicion.” With the arrest of Haynes, newspapers carried front-page photographs of him, which soon brought the following report from Colonel D. W. Young, deputy warden of the State Reformatory at Frankfort: “I am certain that Haynes is the same man who served a term here under the name of Harry Watkins, alias Pete. Wat- kins was convicted of housebreaking in nineteen- fourteen and sentenced to ten years. He was paroled in nineteen- twenty, but broke the provisions of his parole, and has been sought as a parole violator since that time.” Haynes, questioned at the Jefferson County jail, said: “That might have been my twin brother. I have a twin, and we look so much alike that you can’t tell us apart. My name is Phillip, and his is Phil. I haven’t seen him for fifteen years and don’t know where he has been.” After Haynes was identified by the authorities at the reformatory, however, he admitted that his “twin story” was untrue, and that he and Harry Watkins were one and the same. A janitor with a past — signs of blood spots — a chalky substance resembling charred, human bones — were “very sus- picious circumstances,” admitted Common- wealth’s Attorney Otte; but, he added, in criminal law one must produce the corpus delicti. (For the benefit of readers not familiar with legal terms, corpus delicti means the “body of the crime in other words, unless the body, or some portion of it which could be identified, was found, the Commonwealth would be without proof that a murder had been committed.) If Ella Rogers had been murdered in

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True Detective Mysteries 109 the basement, where, theft, axis her body? My thoughts were constantly on that old trunk, so I decided to ask Julian Bradbury to open it at once. “We’ll open it to-night,” he declared. Night came, and with it a cold, drizzling, sleety rain. The time had come to open the trunk, and I had a rather creepy feel- ing. We arrived in the basement about 8 o’clock. George Adams and Mr. Brad- bury examined the trunk. In one corner were the initials “7. — the initials of Joseph Lazarus, the attorney who first an- nounced that he had heard the screams on the night of October 7th. They telephoned him to come down and bring the key. In less than three* minutes he was there. All four of us were as white as a sheet, and the young attorney’s hand trembled so that he could scarcely turn the lock. In the tense moment of waiting, the story of The Mistletoe Pride in the Casket Hall flashed through my mind. It is the story of a lovely bride who disappeared on her wedding night and whose skeleton was found twenty years later in a casket in the attic. Slowly, Lazarus turned the key and lifted the lid. For a moment, no one spoke. Then a sigh broke from all of us — partly of relief, partly of disappointment. For the trunk did not contain evidence of a foul deed, but mute tokens of pa- triotism and valor! A helmet, uniform, sword and bayonet — trophies of the young attorney’s valiant service to his country in the World War. were the contents. I met Mr. Lazarus the next day, and we talked over the dramatic situation of the night before with much amusement. He did not know how the trunk hap- pened to be outside his locker, as he had not been in the basement for months, he said. A WOMAN who lived a short distance from Baringer Manor, on the road leading toward Cherokee Park, stepped for- ward about this time with a story that added a new angle to the puzzle. She said : “I was driving with my husband along Cherokee Road at about eight o’clock on the morning of October eighth, the day following Mrs. Rogers’ disappearance, be- tween Baringer and Willow Avenues, when a dog ran across the road ahead of me. I lost track of him. then, in some underbrush at the edge of the park, but just as I passed the spot where the animal first appeared, the dog bounded out ahead of me from the thicket at the side of the parkway. I had to step on the brakes quickly to keep from running him down, so that I got a good look at the cloth he was carrying <n his mouth. “It was apparently a strip of white goods, heavily blood-soaked. The dog had hold of a good-sized bundle of the piece, and the rest of it trailed out about the length of the animal. The blood stains were fresh, I could easily see, but whether the cloth was an entire garment or just a strip, I don’t know.” Cherokee Road at a point between Wil- low and Baringer Avenues is bordered by shrubs and trees that top a small rise from the roadside. At some places the under- growth is considerably dense. The little wooded strip is flanked on the park side by the golf links. It is only about two' blocks from the garage of the Baringer Manor Apartments. THE trail, then, was leading to Chero- kee Park ! It would have been easily possible for Mrs. Rogers’ body to have been carried out in the darkness of the night from that door at the end of the hallway. A search of Cherokee Park was im- mediately begun. However, plans to drag the lake in the park were abandoned. Every thicket and wooded section of the park were thoroughly searched. Sewers and manholes were entered and explored by the park guards, who had been in- structed to pick up even a handkerchief or a strip of ribbon. A large crowd gathered at the park lake while the thick brush along the shores was being beaten down. But, with the exception of the finding of a woman’s slipper, never identified, the search threw no additional light on the mystery. Our private chemist by this time had completed his laboratory tests of the brownish spots found in the Baringer Manor basement. “ Absolutely no blood ” was the gist of his report. Whether this tallied with the city chemist’s findings, we could only deduce indirectly from a reading of the reward circular issued by the detective bureau under date of November 30th, 1928. I was impressed with one line which said: “To date nothing has developed to in- dicate that she (Ella Rogers) may have met with foul play in the building.” The mystery of Baringer Manor was growing more tangled with each day’s proceedings ! Commonwealth’s Attorney Otte now an- nounced that he would call to his office for questioning all relatives and friends of Ella Rogers who he thought might throw any additional light on the case. Among those summoned was Hal Harned. the last person known to have seen the missing woman. Announcement that the young banker would come to Louisville for questioning created no little excitement, and the papers carried the story in streamer head-lines. Although the newspapers at the time were unable to obtain a photograph of Harned, I will try to give a verbal picture of one of the central figures in the story. Hal Harned appears to be about thirty- six years old. and is tall and slender. He has rather engaging manners and an open, frank smile. He is smooth-shaven, neatly groomed, and dresses well. He has pointed features, and wears shell-rimmed glasses. I had gone over to Dawson Springs to talk to Mr. Harned and happened to be there the day that he was notified that the Commonwealth’s Attorney wished to see him. He reiterated then the state- ment he had made to me in the early days of the investigation. The interview de- veloped nothing new. Late that evening when lie arrived in Louisville, he was met by Brent Over- street, one of the best-known criminal lawyers in Kentucky and a close friend of the Harned family. “My Jim- He's going to make good !” “Jimmy's not making much money — yet. T guess if he hadn’t met me he never would have cared whether he got ahead or not. But now . . . “You see, Jim works in an electric plant. Gets $20 a week. But he’s going to be a foreman at twice that pay — and we’re going to be married and live in a bungalow with roses and a little kitchen garden. Jim’s going to make good — for me. “How do I know? I know they need trained men at the plant. 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Erie St. Dept. 318 Chicago, UL They went directly to Attorney Otte’s office, where a conference was held at which were present Captain Yarberry, chief of the detective bureau; Common- wealth’s Attorney Otte, the banker and his attorney. A few minutes after 11 P.M. the group came from the attorney’s office. Otte and Captain Yarberry immediately issued formal statements relative to their inter- view with the banker. Otte said: “Mr. Harned came to Louisville volun- tarily after hearing that I wanted to talk with him. He called me by telephone after reaching here. He gave us a full state- ment of his connection with the case and cooperated with us in our attempt to solve the mysterious disappearance of Mrs. Rog- ers. I am satisfied that Mr. Harned had nothing to do with the case” Captain Yarberry said: “Mr. Harned made a free, frank and apparently true statement of all the in- formation he bad to clear up the mysteri- ous disappearance of Mrs. Rogers. I am firmly convinced that her disappearance occurred after he had left the apartment, and that he had absolutely nothing to do with her disappearance. His statement to- night was practically the same as the one he gave me last Tuesday.” “Did your talk with Mr. Harned reveal any leads which might help solve the mys- tery?” Captain Yarberry was asked. His answer was to the effect that the formal statement made up entirely what he would have to say on the conference. What next, and which way would we turn for a new clue? WAS Mrs. Rogers dead, or alive? She had made no withdrawals on her bank account ; neither had she visited her safety deposit box since July, two months before she disappeared. The small brown purse which contained her door key had never been located. A check of the pawn-shops also failed to reveal any trace of a large diamond dinner ring she had worn on her left third finger, an heirloom in the Rogers family. If the missing woman was murdered in the basement in such a manner as to have produced blood stains, the mur- derer would have had to dispose of the body and the stains during the night. The next morning was Monday, and wash day for scores of families who lived in the building. The basement contained a mod- ern laundry equipment which was much in demand. It was located just outside the furnace room, and no fewer than a half- dozen maids would have been in the base- ment on Monday at work throughout the day. Could all traces of a bloody murder have been removed so quickly ? It seemed unlikely. Now for the theory that the body was burned in the furnace. It is recalled that the minimum weather temperature on that night was fifty de- grees. While this would have been too chilly for driving in an automobile with- out a wrap, it would not have been cold enough for a very hot furnace fire, if any fire at all. The tenants would have felt, and remarked on, the unusual heat. Moreover — it takes a raging fire twenty- four to thirty-six hours to freinate a human body. Would intense heat for that length of time, at the weather tem- perature of fifty degrees, pass unnoticed by the tenants? And what about the odor? It is true that several of the women in the house recalled that there had been a queer odor several weeks before; but the burning of a human body would have created so in- tensely noxious an odor that an investiga- tion would probably have followed, in an exclusive neighborhood where “bad odors” are so unusual. While all this was revolving in my mind, I received a call from the managing edi- tor to come to his office at once. “Have a good tip.” the message said. I HURRIED into his office and he handed me a letter postmarked from a small town in Tennessee. The letter was signed, and ran something like this: I notice that you are seeking in- formation relative to a Mrs. E. M. Rogers who disappeared on Octo- ber 7. Several weeks ago I was handed a letter to mail addressed to a Mrs. E. M. Rogers. It was addressed to a city west of the Mississippi River. If yon consider this information of any value and will send someone to see me, I will gladly furnish the name of the city. “Get down there as quickly as pos- sible,” the boss said. In less than an hour I was on the sleeper. Early the next morning I called on the writer of the letter. He was the railroad ticket agent in the little town. Several weeks before, about the middle of October, he told me he had been given a letter by the town taxi driver with the request that it he placed on the midnight train in time to reach a certain point where it could be picked up by air-mail service. It was addressed to a “Mrs. E. M. Rogers.” He recalled distinctly the name of the California town given in the address — and told it to me — but he was positive that no street address had been given. I interviewed the taxi driver. He said that he had been handed the letter by a strange man standing in front of the town hotel. It was after 11 o’clock on the night of October 14th. The stranger was in a car with a Kentucky li- cense, and had evidently just arrived. He gave the driver a dollar and asked him to rush the letter down to the station in time to get it on the night train. “We didn’t know anything about the missing woman at that time,” the taxi driver added. I hurried back to Louisville and re- ported the information to the office. The next day at noon I boarded the South- ern Pacific and headed for the western coast. WHEN I arrived at the town in Cali- fornia four days later, I immediately started a check-up of the hotels. Then a police officer told me that ten days before he had picked up a woman about thirty years old, stranded and de- ranged, who said that she came either from Indiana nr Kentucky, he didn’t recall

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True Detective Mysteries 111 which. She had dark-red bobbed hair, and wept continuously, the officer declared. She was then in a State hospital, so I hurried there and asked to be permitted to see the girl. The nurse told me that she talked about a man named “Monty.” The nurse directed me to follow her, and as we walked down the long corri- dor I had that tingling sensation which a reporter always feels when he believes himself about to land a big scoop. As we entered the room, the sick woman turned slowly in bed and faced me. It was not Mrs. Rogers . “I thought you might be Monty,” she said sadly. “He promised to come back and get me!” I resumed my check of the hotels. And on the register of one large hotel I found that a woman signing her name as “E. M. Rogers” actually had stopped there! She had come to the hotel on October 20th, the clerk said, and registered, and as she did not state whether she was Mrs. or Miss Rogers, the clerk had called her room, and she had informed him that it was “Miss Rogers.” She registered from another large city in the West. Her hair was auburn, the clerk con- tinued. and as nearly as he could recall, he thought she resembled the picture on the reward circular. She was about thirty years old. The mail clerk said that she had received mail both as Miss Rogers and Mrs. Rogers. Ethel, the maid on the floor where her room was located, said “the woman acted queer the whole time she was in the hotel.” “She knew a traveling salesman in the next room to her,” Ethel added. “They would not go out together, but he would go down on the elevator and in a few minutes she would come out and go down, too. They would come back the same way. and they checked out about the same time.” After some difficulty, I found out who was registered in the room next to the woman on those dates, and set out to find the traveling salesman. A telegram to the firm he represented in New York inquir- ing as to where his next stop would be, brought the answer : “Chicago in two days.” BEFORE I left that night, I employed the best handwriting expert on the West Coast to make an examination of the “E. M. Rogers” signature on the reg- ister. He was then very active for the State in a murder case which was being head-lined at the time, and had a na- tional reputation. He told me it would be necessary for him to have some additional pen and ink material, as the signature on the reward circular lost some of its in- dividuality in the making of the cut. I agreed to send him the material as soon as I could. I hurried on to Chicago, where I was met by Brown Ransdell, my managing editor, only to find that our traveling salesman had checked out for New York the day before we arrived. That night we went to see Mrs. Heck, the friend Mrs. Rogers said she was to visit the week before she disappeared. We found Pearl Heck and her husband to be a sensible, charming couple, and the three hours we spent that evening in their home were certainly delightful ones. They had not heard from Mrs. Rogers since her disappearance, did not know where she had been, and could offer no solution of the mystery. They had some rather startling informa- tion for us, however. Mrs. Heck told us that toward the lat- ter part of September, she had received a letter from Ella, in which the young widow said that she was going away on a little trip and asked her friend to do her a little favor. “I don’t want you to tell a soul, and I will explain when I see you.” she wrote. “I want you please to send cards to the follmving people ” At this point in the letter, Mrs. Rogers had listed a number of friends, among them Mrs. Bell, previously referred to, and also “A. Harned,” who, it developed, was an uncle of Hal Harned, the banker. On the one to Mrs. Bell she was to say : “Having a wonderful time. Went out last night with Mae. He certainly is pitiful, but dances better than he didr But to the elder Harned she went more into detail. Instructions in his case were more definite. /^\N Tuesday, October 2nd. Mrs. Heck was to write a card to “A. Harned, Weissinger-Gaulbert,” in which she was to say: “Going out to the track to-morrow and will look up your brother. Hav- ing a wonderful timer A. Harned and his brother, it seemed, were turfmen, and were running a string of horses at the Chicago track at that time. Just one week later Mrs. Heck was to write another card to Hal’s uncle in which she was to say: “Will see you the latter part of week." Mrs. Heck said that she had “not known what it was all about” and had not ap- proved of the procedure. “So I wrote Ella and told her that I was not going to send the cards — and I didn’t,” declared Mrs. Heck. (Mrs. Rogers did not receive that letter before she left for New York.) Mrs. Heck then produced a telegram received from Mrs. Rogers at 8:55 P.M. on the evening of October 7th — the day Ella disappeared. That telegram read: don’t send card to a. iiarnf.d TUESDAY. LOVE, ELI A. If the telegram was received in Chi- cago at 8:55 P.M., it must have been sent from Louisville at least an hour be- fore! Hal Harned said, later, that she did not send it while he was in the apart- ment, and he knew nothing about it. There was still another possibility: that someone else might have entered the apartment in her absence, found and read the letter, and thrown it into the basket; that Ella Rogers never did read Mrs. Heck’s letter. Here was mystery added to mystery ! Just when Mrs. Rogers opened the let- ter from Mrs. Heck in which she stated that she would not comply with her re- quest, is not known. However, after her Before Kenneth McCarty Mailed that Coupon He was an $18— Clerk— His ncome Play for Fun or $5,000 a Year Whether a salary of 166 to 1100 a week— or spare-time playing at $5. $10, $l5or more a night — interests you or not — think of the fun in store for you. In one to three morths we can train you at home to play this marvelous, melodious instrument with a fine, easy skill that will make you the envy of all other eyes. 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She must have returned from her trip with the firm belief that the cards had been sent. What effect, then, did Mrs. Heck’s letter have on her, when she did open it? VVe checked out of Chicago the next day and hurried back to Louisville, from where I sent the pen and ink standards of her handwriting to California. It would take about two weeks, at least, to get the report on the signature on the hotel register. IN the meantime I went to New York, where I had a conversation with the traveling salesman who had registered at the California hotel. “Oh, sure, I remember the little woman,” he said casually. “I had my samples out in the sample room, and she came in to see them. She told me her husband was a prominent business man in the city from which she registered. I did not know she was registered as ‘Miss.’ I didn’t pay much attention to her, hut recall that she was petite and that her hair was red.” (But, as I recall it. he said her hair was light, not dark.) “When she left she told me she was going to visit her mother,” he went on to say. “When shp came into the sample room she said she wanted to buy a silk pajama suit for her Japanese maid to wear when she gave parties. As I didn't handle that line. I referred her to another concern.” There was nothing to do now hut wait <»n the report of the famous handwriting expert. That would certainly tell the story. What would he say? The minutes passed like hours and the days like years. One of Mrs. Rogers’ brothers had in the meantime asked that a curator be ap- pointed to settle her estate on the basis that she was dead, and owners of Bar- inger Manor filed suit asking that her bills he paid on the ground that she was “pur- posely secreting herself from her cred- itors.” One petitioner took the view that she was dead, and the other that she was alive. The court threw out the plea for a curator, and the other suit has not at this writing been acted upon. THE brown purse and the missing key had not been located; neither had the dia- mond dinner ring. Phillip Haynes was still in jail. Everything was in a tangle when an interesting interview appeared in the Courier-Journal, a part of which follows : Through a lapse of the mind — apt to strike anyone — Mrs. Ella Rogers may have for not tea who she was ami walked out into the night a totally different person. The idea came from a physician in- terested in nervous diseases, who had studied carefully her disappea ranee from the Baringer Manor Apartments last October 7th. Medical history, he said, brings to mind other ways to account for the unsolved riddle of where the young Louisville widow went, and with whom, and why. They include: Sleep-walking of the simpler kind, which leads a person off with a single fleeting idea in mind, but may leave him anywhere after his short delirium has passed. The overwhelming urge to fly away, bringing not forgetfulness but only brief, excited action — known to phy- sicians as a compulsory neurosis. The almost forgotten fact of hypno- tism. Any of these mental disturbance except the last, it was pointed ou. would be considered unlikely in the Rogers case if indications of violence were discovered. On the other hand, any of them would explain how the twenty-nine- year-old widow would happen to leave her apartment untouched, wearing neither coat nor hat. A nervous strain or sudden shock, it was agreed, could make such states of mind more probable. Screams might result, since a sharp pain in the back of the head is often reported by somnambulists. Even an unexpected darkening of the lights might help unsettle a woman, it was suggested, and the sleep-walker so touched off would find himself unable to under- stand the darkness. But the mental disorder which could most readily take Mrs. Rogers out of her apartment and keep her away is the fugue. Specialists use the term to refer to a sufferer's wandering with complete amnesia regarding the past. A fugue may last for months. The traveler fits easily into new situations, even taking tip a strange occupation with ease : and then some chance word, letter or photograph will bring up recollections of a previous life. Under such a theory of Mrs. Rog- ers* fate, she may even now be living a more or less happy existence far away : hut she will some day wake tip and be puzzled over her strange sur- roundings. Remembering her name and home may be difficult, and out- siders who know her story, wherever she may he, could help. 1WAS engrossed with the physician's theory. It seemed to fit in exactly with the California angle. Then the door-bell rang and the postman handed me a spe- cial delivery letter. It was from my handwriting expert, and my hand was trembling so. I could scarcely open it. What would he say? Well, here it is: / have just con eluded my exami- nation of the signature “E. .1/. Rog- ers. . ” as registered in the Hotel. . California, sifter considerable examination 1 am clearly of the opinion that the said hand writ- ing IS NOT THE HANDWRIT- ING OF THE PERSON WRITING THE CHECKS AND OTHER STANDARDS submitted as the handwriting of Ella M. Rogers. There is a most marked similarity in the name Rogers, in fact in the entire signature. “E. M. Rogers ” and the address, even to the manner of connecting the capital “ — ” to the “ — ” in writing the abbreviation “ However, the phenomena of coin- cidence have occurred sc~vcral times in my years of experience, and it is upon this obstacle that many a lawyer and expert has met his Waterloo at a court trial; and not infrequently in- nocent persons have severely suffered from the sheer inability of an “expert” to correctly analyse .

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True Detective Mysteries 113 I dropped the letter in disappointment. Hope again, going up like a sky-rocket, had come down like a stick. I heard a boy calling the afternoon pa- pers, and I bought one. There across the top of the page was another head-line about the “blood spots in the basement. A bloody clectric-light socket has been found !” That was just as good a clue as any other now, and just as plausible. Per- haps the solution was something like this, I argued to myself: Suppose she did telephone to the jani- tor’s apartment, as would have been cus- tomary under the circumstances. Suppose the janitor did not answer the tele- phone. She may have left her apart- ment, picked up the brown purse, holding her key, and closed her door and walked to the head of the basement steps. She may not have intended to go down into the basement, but had taken one step at a time. She may or may not have seen a light near the electric meter. She may have been standing either on the steps or at the foot of the steps, when someone came in from the alley behind. Startled suddenly, she gave three shrill screams before she was silenced. This was only a conjecture, but that was all we had had to work with since the investigation started. If it was murder, certainly, it was a perfect crime. MRS. ROGERS* things were removed from Baringer Manor by Colonel Rogers, and Apartment 14 was advertised “for rent.” The apartments are much in demand, and it was soon rented to a prominent young couple. Phillip Haynes had been taken back to the penitentiary to finish the four-year term for which he had been sought as a parole violator. He never changed his statement that he had never seen Mrs. Rogers in his life. The story was gradually dying out as front-page news, and the public ceased to discuss the Rogers case. The winter passed, and spring came. Guards in Cherokee Park were dig- ging near the bridge one day when one of them saw a woman’s body near the pier. They dragged it to the shore and sent in a call to police headquarters. Instantly the Rogers story was revived, and reporters rushed to the scene. But it was only another sky-rocket. The body was not that of Ella Rogers. At the beginning of the story it was pointed out that every clue met a counter- clue — every possible solution had its plausible explanation. As I turn back the pages now, I think sometimes that Ella Rogers was the vic- tim of foul play, and then again I can- not help feeling that she is alive some- where in this big world of ours. Will the mystery of Baringer Manor ever be solved? Note: What do the readers of True Detective Mysteries think? Did the beautiful Ella Rogers meet a violent death in the basement of Bar- inger Manor on that Sunday evening, October 7th, 1928? Or, did she “disappear” voluntarily and go into retirement for some reason best known to herself; and is she living to-day — possibly reading this strange story of how she vanished? What do you think? The Clue of the Gray Hat (Continued from page 49) are kinda different. This is not the man J” That solemn declaration took all the wind out of my sails, for Missouri Mike was as firm as the Rock of Gibraltar in his opinion that, if ever we found the murderer, whom he professed to know, we would discover that the killer’s jaws were firmer and his chin more thrust-out and pointed. The details of our further investiga- tion of Sandy Manning, would serve no purpose in this account, unless it would be to prove the painstaking work that a de- tective must often do to eliminate con- clusively the victims of such peculiar cir- cumstances as those that caused me to pounce upon the fugitive purse-snatcher, who, after all, was far from being a murderer. For that reason, please per- mit me to pass this painful point of the subject without further comment regard- ing that mistake of mine. Where — oh, where — was the real "Bill”? AT this juncture — just a day or so after Sandy Manning’s arrest — the newly elected Police Commissioner, Clifford Davis, former city judge, took over the governing reins of the Police Depart- ment. His inauguration was at once fol- lowed by a rejuvenation of the Force, and the rules governing much of the individual work were tightened up. But there were no radical changes in the personnel af- fecting the department heads. The progress — if any — that I was mak- ing on my long assignment to the Levy murder case did not seem to justify the expense of my salary. Besides, I had, ad- mittedly, exhausted my last promising lead with the failure to connect Sandy Man- ning with the crime. So, without a call- down of any kind, I was assigned to the Burglary Squad, under Lieutenant Heckle’s immediate command ; with the tacit understanding that I could resume the murder investigation if anything should develop, and devote odd time to the case in the interim. Meanwhile, the hat I had carried around from house to house, over many weary miles, was laid to rest in the archives of the Homicide Bureau. It had begun to appear to me at last that it would never be anything but a tragic relic of another lost cause. “Catching many murderers these days?” Detective Sergeant Tom Smith chided me the day after I was assigned to the Bur- glary Squad. “Aw, go to hell, you nigger-catcher !” I rasped, almost envying his reputation for success in never failing to get the colored culprits who were his unboasted specialty. “Better get a job peddling hats, big “This Great Invention Keeps Me In Razor Blades FREE” ••I’ve shaved five years with one razor blade! 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But write at once, as the edition is limited, and every man past 40 should know these vital faets. Simply ask for FREE Book. The Electro Thermal Co.. 4724 Morris Ave., Steubenville, Ohio. If you live West of the Rockies, mail your inquiry to The Electro Thermal Co.. '03 Van Nuys Building, Dept. 47-A. I .os Angeles. Calif. boy- — you couldn't even catch a chicken thief!” was his parting shot, that I never got time to answer. For, singularly as it may seem, Lieu- tenant Heckle stepped to the door of the squad room almost at the moment the echo of Sergeant Smith’s mockery quit ringing through the corridors, and sent me chasing off to investigate a complaint re- ceived from an old negro woman, living in the extreme southern edge of the city. When I arrived at the address given me by Lieutenant Heckle, imagine my chagrin to learn that the old mammy’s sole need for “de law” would require the services of a sleuth who could apprehend the “bur- glar” who stole two bantam chickens from her hen-roost several hours before, with- out leaving a clue! For once, I would have to admit that Tom Smith had called my turn. After a careful survey of the lowly hen-house, which was void of any dis- covery that might lead to the recovery of the two purloined bantams — whose descrip- tions I dutifully entered for the purpose of my report on that case — I got into the police car and started back to Head- quarters. MY route took me over a part of Iowa Avenue, and that revived the fresh memory of those more exciting events a few weeks before, when I had felt no humiliation in acknowledging the impor- tant nature of my work — quite in contrast to the job of hunting a bantam chicken thief! My thoughts reached the tempera- mental stage that caused me to curse my- self for the degradation that had followed in the wake of apparent failure. “Why bring up the chicken business — the theft of two little bantams — in a story that relates the inside facts of a most im- portant murder mystery?” the reader may ask. “Because,” let we tell you, “if that minor incident hadn’t occurred just as it did, I would have missed — probably for the last time — the trail that was to lead unerringly over a devious road to a prison door in a faraway city and ... !” But why get ahead of the story? Detectives often tell of the hunches they have followed to victory. Others speak of the old element called luck, that is sup- posed to play such an important role in the solution of baffling mysteries. But I lay no claim to uncanny guidance or supernatural direction. It just so hap- pened that while I was driving along through Fort Pickering, in a fretful mood, I observed something which I had failed to notice during the twenty-seven days that I had spent in the house-to-house check of that immediate vicinity. It concerned the house located at 21 2 West Iowa Avenue. I steered the police flivver up to the curb, got out and walked to a door that entered upon a separate apartment from the one visited on my former call at that address. A pretty girl of about seventeen came to the door when I rang. I started to tell her, mechanically, that I was look- ing for a man named Bill, who, l thought, had lived at that address. It was evident from her expression that the name “Bill’’ didn t register with her. I began reciting my memorized description of the man, when an elderly lady of gentle, refined appearance stepped into view behind the girl in the doorway. “He’s a tall man, about thirty — dark hair, that parts on the side — and his chin comes out like this,” I explained, bring- ing my own chin into a shape resembling the characteristic Missouri Mike had described for me. “That sounds like Mr. Gunion’s des- cription!” the older woman remarked in an aside to the girl. ‘‘Yes, Mother, but Mr. Gunion’s name wasn’t Bill. . . .” “Where is Mr. Gunion?” I interposed. “Oh, he left two or three months ago, without paying his rent!” the elderly lady said, her mild voice registering her indignation at this lapse of her erstwhile roomer’s. “Did he used to wear a gray felt hat?” I asked with restrained eagerness. “Yes, he did!” the girl replied without hesitation. “Would you he able to recognize the hat he wore, while living here, if I were to show you the hat?” “Why ” the woman faltered in per- plexity at the personal trend of my ques- tions. If my impression of them was correct, these two — they were evidently mother and daughter — were above suspicion of shield- ing any knowledge they might possess that would lead to a murderous criminal’s ap- prehension. There was no reason why I should not he frank with them. “I’m going to explain the reason for this inquiry, Mrs. ” “I am Mrs. Rogers, and this girl is my daughter,” she supplied courteously. “I am Officer Solomon, of the Police Department.” I returned the introduction with a bow to each of the ladies. “Is Mr. Gunion wanted by the police?” Mrs. Rogers inquired in an awed voice. “I suspect him of murder!” I informed her impressively. “Oh! That’s terrible . . . and just to think, he lived in our house!” Miss Rogers nervously exclaimed. “I3CT we didn’t know the people very •D well. They only lived here a few weeks, last fall. His wife acted like a nice woman, hut they skipped out when they got behind with their rent. I haven’t anv idea where they moved to,” Mrs. Rogers calmly assured me. “Please say nothing of the suspicion I have confided. But I have good reason to think the man you call ‘Gunion’ may be one of the men who murdered Mr. Levy, the ‘Hot Tamale King’! And if one of you ladies can identify the hat ” “Oh, we’d rather not get mixed up in a thing like that!” Mrs. Rogers inter- jected pleadingly. “But surely, madam,” I said, “you would not keep silent and allow a man guilty of such an outrageous crime to escape just punishment, would you?” “No, no! I will tell the truth, if it hangs the man !” That was all the assurance I needed. Promising to return as quickly as I could go to Headquarters for the hat, I dashed up to the Homicide Bureau and in- formed Captain Glisson and Sergeant Lemmer of my latest surprise develop- ment— completely forgetting to report hack to Lieutenant Heckle on the “Case of the Missing Bantams”! So often had my hopeful leads on the

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True Detective Mysteries 115 murder investigation been blasted during recent months, that my new enthusiasm could not be so spontaneously trans- mitted to the Captain and the Sergeant. But they were patient detectives, and both agreed very readily to accompany me on the return trip to the Rogers home. “That looks like the hat I recollect see- ing Mr. Gunion wearing the day they en- gaged rooms from us,” Mrs. Rogers stated, upon being shown the long-lost hat. “But the last day he was here,” the daughter said, “he left the house wearing a new cap!” “Do you know who their friends were — who Mr. Gunion and his wife visited, or where they came from?” Captain Glisson asked. “They never talked of anyone to me. But Mrs. Gunion had a friend named Cora Wickers, whom she seemed to chum with,” Mrs. Rogers answered. “I remem- ber, too, Mrs. Gunion spoke of her hus- band’s relatives living at Oakland, Ten- nessee.” “Do you happen to know what Mr. Gunion’s occupation was?” Sergeant Lem- mcr inquired. “Oh, yes! He told Daddy that he was a terra cotta worker” the girl contributed. “I remember that because it sounded so unusual, and I didn’t know the meaning of it.” “But he was out of employment while they lived here,” the mother corrected. Captain Glisson and I both heartily thanked the good lady and her daughter for their willing assistance, as we took our departure from the tidy little home. THE little town of Oakland, Tennessee, is about thirty-five miles, or less, north- east of Memphis. And with the speedy Sergeant Lemmer at the wheel, we lost no time in covering that distance. Arriving at Oakland, luck favored us. Through a reliable informant, we soon learned that Freeman T. Gunion, who had once lived with relatives there, had fled that town with a cloud of suspicion hang- ing over him in connection with the theft of an automobile. The sheri flf had been looking for him, unsuccessfully, for sev- eral months. “Automobile stealing seems to be our ‘terra cotta worker’s’ side-line,” Captain Glisson mused, when we started out to find the local sheriff. Not wishing to incur any risk of Gunion’s relatives being told that we were seeking the man in comiection with a mur- der charge, we explained to the officer at Oakland that it was an auto theft case upon which we were working. That ex- planation was plausible, and would not l*e likely to arouse much small-town com- ment. “I’ve been hunting that polecat for nearly a year, for the same thing,” the sheriff informed us, “but the scamp’s been too slick for me!” “Reckon you could manage to get us a picture of him?” Captain Glisson re- quested. “Think so,” the sheriff replied imper- turbably. “I ain’t got one of them finger- print bureaus, like you fellers has in Mem- phis, but, by hokey. I’ve got the pictures of near about all the fellers I ever sus- pects of being crooks — and ’specially fugi- tives— around here !” The sheriff spent several minutes rum- maging through the drawers of his roll- top desk. At last he located the object of his search. “Here it is! 1 knew it was here, summers,” he exclaimed trium- phantly, at length. THE sheriff passed the little kodak pic- ture over to Captain Glisson. (It is re- produced, in this story, on page 49.) Ser- geant Lemmer and I, unable to restrain our interest, leaned over the Captain’s chair. And when I saw the significant features so plainly recorded in the tiny photograph, there was no doubt in my mind that we had, at last, found the like- ness which Missouri Mike had long en- deavored to paint with words! — the like- ness of the mysterious “Bill,” whose real name was Freeman T. Gunion, wanted as the suspected assassin of John E. Levy! A little further imposition upon the sheriff’s generosity, and we sped back to Memphis, bearing with us the precious photograph. Mrs. Rogers and her daughter, out on West Iowa Avenue, upon our return to their home in the late afternoon, promptly identified the kodak picture as being a good likeness of the idle “terra cotta worker,” who had roomed in their home during November, 1927, with a woman who claimed to have been his wife. The Shelby County Jail was our next stop. There, I handed the picture to Missouri Mike, saying : “Do you know this man?” “That’s Bill ! That’s the guy I’ve been telling you about! Have you got him?” Missouri Mike’s excitement was only ex- ceeded by my own leashed ardor. However, it was to be remembered, Mis- souri Mike’s positive identification of the photo of Freeman T. Gunion established little more than the fact that Gunion was uthe Bill” whom the red-haired lad from Missouri accused of the murder. Relevant proof of Gunion’s guilt was still lacking. Our job thus far had been to track down the identity of our outstanding suspect. Now came the task of running him to earth and proving his guilt or — perhaps, like Charcoal Johnny and Sandy Manning, Gunion might dynamite the theoretical structure from around him, when caged. Cora Wickers, the woman mentioned by Mrs. Rogers as the most intimate chum of Gunion’s wife, seemed to be the most logical person from whom information might be gained. If Gunion was really a party to the murder of John E. Levy, I reasoned, the chances were that his wife knew something about it. And if that was a true surmise, there was a possibility that Mrs. Gunion, if not a well-tutored gang- ster’s moll, might have confided the dark secret to her closest friend. Acting upon this rather far-fetched theory, I set out to find Cora Wickers. The city directory supplied her address. But, alas! I soon learned that Cora was not living at that address. It took me almost a week to find her. Several more precious days were con- sumed in winning her confidence to the extent that I felt it prudent to question her upon the grave subject pertaining to her former associates. The tactics I used in cultivating Cora Wickers were not unique— just patient. 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Without attempting to quote Cora Wickers verbatim, the substance of what I learned from her was this: THE woman supposed to have been the wife of Freeman T. Gunion, while he resided at 212 West Iowa Avenue, was not a legally wedded woman. Her real name was, apparently, Elizabeth White. “Betty” was the pet name used by Mrs. Wickers in speaking of Gunion’ s paramour. She denied that Betty had ever told her of any crime committed by Gunion. “But I had my own ideas about that man,” Cora blurted. “Betty wouldn’t tell nothing on him, not even to me!” “And yet, you thought ” “I thought plenty,” she exploded, “aflcr Betty got me to walk with her tvay out on the Harahan Bridge one night ” She suddenly hushed. “Sounds interesting,” I prompted. “I’ll bet she went out there intending to jump into the river and commit suicide, on ac- count of the way her man had been treat- ing her?” “Oh, no! It wasn’t anything like that. She had a gun, wrapped up in newspaper, and she threw it in the river! She was scared to go way out there on the bridge by herself — that’s why she got me to go with her.” Maybe my ears didn’t prick up then ! “Seems queer that Betty would take you along,” I said, “if she didn’t trust you enough to explain why she was throwing the gun away.” “Oh, she did say something about get- ting rid of the pistol so’s to keep Freeman out of trouble. But she never told me much of what was on her mind. Thought it was none of my business, I guess.” Cora smiled sardonically. “Maybe Betty thought that fellow Gunion would get jealous, and shoot somebody with his pistol, and she didn’t want the gun too handy ” “There zcas some talk of him being jealous of a guy they called ‘Oklahoma Jimmy/ but I don’t think that made Betty sink the gun. . The very next day, the newspapers told about that Mr. Levy being killed, and when I read that. I just knew that Betty’s man was mixed up in it some- how. And right on top of that, they left town without telling anybody where they were going,” Betty White's chum naively elucidated. Gradually, I managed to extract every shred of Cora Wickers’ well-kept secret. But she did not know the whereabouts of Freeman Gunion — whom she had never heard called “Bill” — and his loyal mistress. The vivid description I obtained of that voluptuously described female, who had so unceremoniously departed with her com- mon-law husband in the wake of a sinister murder, was enough to convince me that the man was not likely to separate from so charming a companion if he could avoid it. Cherches la femme — look for the woman ! Elizabeth — “Betty” — White, according to Cora Wickers* painting, was a plump little woman, with innocent, blue eyes and beauti- ful, fair hair almost the shade of bright gold. Her comely face, I was led to be- lieve, was so madonnalike in its tender loveliness that it taxed the imagination of even a hardened detective to place her as the bosom associate of a low, depraved criminal. FROM the little town of Oakland, we obtained additional data of great value; the names of relatives of the couple, and friends with whom they might communi- cate. Gunion’s nearest kin, it was said, lived in Kansas City and Independence, Missouri. Other relatives were listed at various points throughout Nebraska, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois and Indiana. That opened a wide range for the search. Reproductions were made of the minia- ture photograph of Gunion which we had already procured, and enlargements were forwarded to police departments and sheriffs’ offices wherever the pair had a known relative or friend. A letter from the Memphis Police Department, requesting that the man be held on suspicion of murder, accompanied each photographic copy. Assistance was rendered by the postal authorities in covering the mails at sus- pected points. And to assure a thorough check of the two most important locations, I called upon my good friend, Ed Monroe, division special agent of the Frisco Rail- way, and requested him to make a personal effort to stimulate the interest of police officers with whom he was well acquainted in St. Louis, Kansas City and Independence, Missouri. Ed Monroe is a veteran “detective of the rails.” And, let me say, when once Ed tackled a case, there was never a bloodhound quite so relentless. As a re- sult of his persistent cooperation, on the fourth day of February, 1928 (seventy- four days after the murder date), Inspector Griffin received a telegram from the Kan- sas City Police Department. The message read : WOMAN RESIDING AT TWO SEVEN NAUGHT THREE WASHINGTON BOULE- VARD SAINT LOUIS MISSOURI IS BE- LIEVED TO BE WIFE OF FREEMAN GUNION WANTED IN YOUR CITY AS SUSPECTED MURDERER And, true to my confounded luck, I was pinch-hitting on another case that day ! At the time the wire arrived from Kansas City, I was inside the walls of the Missis- sippi State Penitentiary at Parchman, try- ing to persuade a convict down there to “kick in” on a mob of safe blowers we had under arrest in Memphis. Captain Glisson, I learned upon my re- turn, had been immediately dispatched to St. Louis. And, upon his arrival in that city, with the assistance of St. Louis de- tectives, he promptly placed the Washington Boulevard address under surveillance, later taking the woman into custody. “Betty Gunion” was the name she was then using. Captain Glisson’s report upon that angle shows that “Betty Gunion” at no time denied her identity, was not ashamed to admit the illicit relationship by which she acquired that name, and freely told of her long association with Freeman T. Gunion. But— Betty balked in vigorous denial when her man was called a mur- derer !

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True Detective Mysteries 117 It was only after they confronted her with the charge of having disposed of the pistol with which Levy was killed — the facts related to me by Cora Wickers — and recounted to her startled senses the damn- ing evidence of her paramour’s hat that was found so near the victim; stressing again the stealthy nocturnal trip she was known to have taken to the river bridge, and the grim purpose she had partly con- fided to her companion in explanation of the weighted bundle she consigned that night to the old Mississippi’s turbid depths — it was only then that 4‘Betty Gunion” wailed her complete confession. YES, Elizabeth White, who preferred to be called “Betty Gunion,” knew, and at last was willing to tell Captain Glisson and the St. Louis detectives, all about the man who had led her through erring by- ways, lighting their rugged road with a burning torch of mutual love — the flare of which she said would never smolder within her heart, regardless of how dark the way. Her story went back to the history of Freeman T. Gunion’s birth in the little town of Belle City, Kentucky, October 3rd, 1898. It covered his escape from the law in Indiana, at a time when he committed his first offense against society. Other incidents, not all bad, portrayed his struggle to follow the paths of rectitude — the in- evitable missteps, which to her were ever excusable. She dwelt at length upon the sinister influence wielded over her lover by the companionship he had formed in Memphis. And to that cause she attributed his final plunge into the deepest known abyss of crime. To the patient police officers, she described her horror that night in/ Novem- ber, the night when Freeman tremulously crawled under the covers of their bed to tell her the awful sequel of his first ad- venture as a gunman — a murderer! Everything was laid bare in Betty’s stenographic statement, recorded in the early hours of her detention at the St. Louis police station- — everything except the names of Freeman Gunion’s confederates in the murder of the “Hot Tamale King.” The names of her man’s accomplices, she saul, were sealed in an oath-bound pledge among themselves. And she had not wanted her lover to violate his honor by betraying the solemn vow! Without further hesi- tancy, however, she told her inquisitors that it was Freeman Gunion who fired the fatal shot. She had his word for that! But. where was Gunion now? Did she know that? She did, and told us. Freeman Gunion, his mistress informed the detectives, had been taken into cus- tody by United States Secret Service Agents on a counterfeiting charge, and was even then being held in jail at Dan- ville, Illinois. Captain Glisson quickly verified that information by a long- distance telephone call from St. Louis to Danville. Rushing to Danville on the next train, Captain Glisson gained an immediate in- terview with the government prisoner, who was docketed under his right name. He met a rigid denial when lie accused Gunion of the Memphis murder. He requested the prisoner to try on the long-lost hat, which he had carried on the trip for just such a possible emergency. And what a pain- fully perfect fitting hat Gunion must have found it to be ! "My hat!" Gunion groaned. But not until the Captain confronted the killer with the confession signed by “Betty Gunion” did he admit his guilt of the wanton act. And when he broke — a veri- table torrent of damaging admissions flowed from the dark reservoir of his soul ! I WILL quote a few* excerpts from Freeman T. Gunion’s written confes- sion : “Edwin Grace look me in on the Levy job. He had the plans all laid. I knew Grace, but had never pulled any crooked stuff with him before. He said Mr. Levy always carried a big roll, and it would be like taking candy from a baby. “George Prince was the other guy that Grace took in on the deal. We all three looked old man Levy over in the pool-room that night, where we had seen him before. And we knew he would drive home alone. “We would have caught him on the street and stuck him up, where we could have had a car on hand for the getaway, but Grace thought it would be safer to lay for him at his garage, and Grace was bossing the job. “We barely had time to stash our car near-by and get fixed for him, when he drove into his garage that night. Two other nights he had beat us to his house after we saw him leave down-town to go home. “Grace said Mr. Levy knew him, and he didn’t know me or Prince, so he stayed back in the alley while George and I got inside the garage. We kept hid until after Mr. Levy drove in and turned the head- lights off. Then we both slipped up to where he was getting out of the car. “George Prince said : “‘Shut up! Put 'em up! Don't say a word!' “I had the automatic in my hand, and was feeling nervous. All at once, it looked like the man was reaching into! his pocket. I didn’t know what he was going to do. Then I heard him sav: “'Wait!' “About that time my partner snapped, ' Let him have it!' “I pulled the trigger. . . .” The mystery so long enshrouding the full details of exactly who murdered John E. Levy, and the deadly drama staged to its hideous finale in the dark garage, were all vividly clarified in the voluminous docu- ment edited by the fatally realistic villain, who recollected so well his sinister enact- ment of the title role, as he paced the narrow cell to which he was confined in the Danville jail and politely answered Cap- tain Glisson’s many questions. I do not quote the Gunion confession in its written entirety, because the extracts embodied in this story are sufficient to make clear the important features of his statement not otherwise told. The Federal authorities promptly re- leased Gunion on the counterfeiting charge, in order that he might be returned to Tennessee for the murder prosecution. He waived extradition and stoically awaited his fate. 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Immediately following their arrival in Memphis, the confessed murderer was in- terviewed by Inspector Griffin, and he sup- plemented his earlier admissions by giving further clues to aid in finding the two pals upon whom he had squealed. I was present. G union, however, could not supply the ad- dress of either of the two. whom he had already named to Captain Glisson. At last he volunteered to accompany us on a tour of the hangouts where he thought our other quarry might be found, and point either of them out upon sight. THE proposal was accepted, and Gunion was handcuffed to me to prevent the possibility of his escape. We were accom- panied in the police car by Detective Lieutenant Quianthy and Detective Ser- geant Mario Chiozza. An hour was spent in fruitless search, but during that time the word-picture he had painted for us was enough to establish pretty well in our minds the image of the men now wanted. So we returned Gunion to his cell at Central Station, and began a free-handed expedition in quest of George Washington Prince, who, Gunion said, had been his side-partner in the murder, and Edwin Grace, the alleged “outside” man of the murder mob. No more than three hours elapsed from the time Gunion arrived in Memphis until we had George W. Prince under arrest ! Lieutenant Quianthy. Sergeant Chiozza and I made the pinch at Lamar and Bellevue Boulevard. Prince, whose former occupation had been that of a news “butch,” was found distributing handbills for an advertiser. He was following the gentle temporary vocation that day in an exclusive section of the city's best residential district. His arrest was effected without resistance. “Why am I being picked up?” he de- manded to know. “You will he charged with murder ” Lieutenant Quianthy informed him. His face paled at that and. for a moment, he seemed stunned to speechlessness. But on the way to Headquarters he rallied his wits for a smooth denial. “Don’t lie!” Chiozza rasped. “Freeman Gunion is in the City Jail, and he’s told all about your part in the Levy murder!” No news of Gunion’s arrest had leaked out up to that time, and Sergeant Chiozza thought he was exploding a bombshell that would shatter any hope this suspect might en*ertain of brazening out the charge. “Who’s Freeman Gunion? I never heard of him before!” George Prince looked Chiozza square in the eye when he asked that question. And it was a fart. But after a brief grilling at Headquarters, which the, prisoner stood without a break, we confronted him with Gunion in person. When Gunion was led before Prince, he said : “Hello, George !” “W-h-y . Prince stammered an in- stant. “What th’ hell are you doing here. Bill?” And the surprised look in his eyes registered more alarm than pleasure at the unexpected meeting ! WHEN Freeman Gunion (George Prince had never known him by any name except “Bill”) told his astonished former partner in crime that he had made a clean breast of it all, our second suspect promptly admitted his full connection with the murder and. within an hour, George W. Prince had completed a written confession that was strong enough to send him to the electric chair. And his statement cor- roborated Gunion’s in every essential detail. That left us with one of the three murderers uncaught. The third man. John Edwin Grace, a former jewelry salesman, who had once been arrested but never con- victed on a jewelry theft charge, was im- mediately located through information sup- plied by George Prince. With Lieutenant Quianthy and Sergeant Chiozza, I made the dash to Charleston. Mississippi, obtained the aid of officers there, and a few hours later we had Edwin Grace in custody. His parents lived near Charleston, and their high standing in the community caused a storm of protest to gather around our accusation of their son. No one among his townspeople would be- lieve him guilty of so grave a charge as murder for robbery . Edwin Grace vigorously denied his guilt, and refused to return to Tennessee with- out the full process of extradition. ~ That called for a court hearing upon our writ of arrest. When the hearing was held the following day. the entire countryside turned out. And. believe me, the traditional Southern hospitality was not generously lavished upon me and my colleagues fro*** Memphis by the good old Mississippians, who thought we were trying to put a fast one over on one of their hoys! However, the decision went against Grace, and hi> attorneys appealed. Have You Been Listening-In Thursday evenings to the dramatic, entertaining broad- casts of the thrilling detective stories now appearing in True Detective Mysteries? If not, make it a point to listen-in next Thursday evening, at 9 o’clock, Eastern Standard Time, 8 o’clock Central Time, over the Columbia Broadcasting System. See newspapers for announce- ments. Remember the time— every Thursday evening.

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True Detective Mysteries 119 RunMyOil Agency ~ lit the with You I am now ready to place an am- bitious, energetic man in charge of my oil agency right in vour locality, ril make him my partner, furnish every- thing that's needed to do a big business and DIVIDE THE PH O FITS 50-50 EVrEHY WEEK. $50 to $250 a Week Your Share I have hundreds of men now with me on this basis. Montgomery of Iowa made $216 the first week he started. Wengard, Ohio, made $430 for his share in one week. You can do as well. No invest- ment or oxporlonco needed. I’ll show you how. Fur- nish everything free. Everybody buys oil. You simply take orders on long credit terms for my famous nation- ally-known Cen-Pe-Co Super-Refined Motor Oils. Columbia Quality Paints and Fibre Hoof Coating. We deliver from nearby warehouse and collect. Pay you every week. Wrifp Quirk It's the chance of a lifetime to get VVIIIC V(UIV,n Into a big. permanent money-making business of your own. Send name and address today for all particulars. First applications get the preference. Act New! P. T. Webster. Cen’l Mgr- ... r._turv Ru.„ Central Petroleum Company Cleveland, ohio MUSIC LESSONS A HOME 1 You can read music like this Quickly Write today for our FREE BOOKLET. It tells how to learn to play Piano, Organ, Violin, Mandolin. Guitar. Banjo, etc. Beginners or advanced players. You pay as you learn. Costs only a few cents a day. Thousands of satisfied students. AMERICAN SCHOOL OF MUSIC. 83 Manhattan Bldf., Chicago yWtfRVEL Compact INSTANTLY REMOVES SUPERFLUOUS HAIR a. •imply ending a penril mark. No Ihj-«k1. *melly rritm, was or danerr. A Dainty Compact that i.coura*ea rrowth Scot p0«tf 4 V y direct from maker. Money bock cuarantee. kou don't ri»k a penny. Literature on reqwe«t. ©n|y ■ MARVEL COMPACT CO., Dept. T-5 9 East 14th Street, New York “Perfume of Love” YUfAGIC, mysterious exotic fra- *YI grance — fascinates. entices thrills! RarePARFUM D’AMOUR (Perfume of Love). Exotic beauty surrounds you — enticing, seductive. Attracts everyone with Its delightful fragrance. SEND NO MONEY $5 bottle sent all charges prepaid. Pay jjostman introductory Sale Price only $1.87 and postage on arrival. Send i»ostal today. BRADLEY, H-58, Newton, Mass. Be an Expert Criminologist and Court Expert Open to both sexes. Qualify yourself to demand big pay. With ctiiuc increasing the expert is con- stantly in demand. W here the ordinary detective fails the expert criminologist succeeds. I-carn this lucrative profession in all its branches at home, linger prints, l.cgul Chemistry, Microscopy. Photo-Micrography. Handwriting. Graphology, Psychology, Ballistics. Blood stains, etc. All in one complete course. Each student given individual and careful attention, and advice biter when handling cases after completing course. Write today. International Criminologist School Address P. O. Box 343 Seattle, Wash. 10,000 Women NeaT You "Want This Invention ' Cushions Jeetlikea ept. W-60. 715 Kolmar Ave.. Chicago. 111. , Kwik Factories, Dept. W-60. | 71S Kolmar Ave., Chicago, 111. Without obligation, send me your money-making I proposition for lull time or spare hours. Also demon- strator's sample oiler. | Address. City. L_ J Kill The Hair Root My method is the best way to prevent the superfluous hair from growing again. Home treatment saves you money. Write for beokl-t enrluam* J red stamp*. We t**rh beautv osiage. Your original returned unharmed. UNION ART STUDIO, Dopt. H 32 Union Square, New York, N. Y AT„ *50022 DIAMONDS! Last— Science has created the k world’s Finest Reproductions of GEN- UINE DIAMONDS: Ca-rho *ein* atand the tire and arid teat. We rhallence experts to t»U tliea* Irom SoOO.UO Diamonda. I.ivin* firs plat* cm their diamond-nit facet* — dazzling, sparkling, scintillating! Initant beauty for tha band»T Choice $•_* WH. GIRL. S' Af E V ' Do not confute C 7. ECHO Gems with ordinary "imitation*." Nothing haa been found to compare with their laatinz beauty. Every atone aet in famoue DEAUVILLE mount in*, guaranteed -0 year*. Put your faith in a ring that won’t dm- ’2 98 Two for $5.50 ippoint you Send No Money! Juat pay poatman 12.9ft plua few centa postace when -*■ * “'.SO if ‘ “ ' — - r „ by b MEN'S atyle. Tie atria* around nnj m - — at pay p _ _ rin* you chooac arrive*. (Only fS.50 if ordering two ) Choice of 3 rinca er. Rin* No. « ran be had in for fti.VS. No more to pay. Order by number. L__ MEN’S atyle. Tie atria* around nacer for aiae. (Caah with Canadian order*. > Buy for GIFTS! Aet NOW! Beautiful Kin* Box FKKKI Wakefield Jewelers, Dept. X, 500 W. Adams St., Chicago, III.

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120 True Detective Mysteries LUMINOUS PAINT Make Your Watches, Clocks, Etc,, Uiciltlo hu Mivhf Th* vary lateet discovery ia tb* scientifio VISIDie Dy Wlgni world. Hitherto. practically unobtain- nxnnnt at an exorbitant price. w* have at last succeeded iu proiucin* thia rnnarkabl# LUMINOU3 PAINT, which, applied to th* surface of any article. nmitn rays ol whits light, r*n l* to uaa. Anvou*— you can do it, A little applied to the dial ol your watch of clock will enable you to tall lb# timn by night. You can coat the puah but- tnna or aw itch plat## of your electric lighta. match boiaa. and innumerable ether article; Luminous Crucifix*#. Luminous Roaarie*. ate. Small botU*. eric* 25c. l»rc*r — ‘ * Dept, 924, RACINE, BUS. CIGARETTE MAKER RoD year own and , s»va money. Batter nod quiokar; •area mora than half. Uaa your favorite brand of tobac- co. Neat, useful, bandy. Poekat aisa. weigh* >» oa. Made entirely of metal, nickel pl*t*d. 25c. 3 for 6 5« postpaid anywhere. parcel Dost. Extra Blank Cartridges SOc par lO Spaoial lloletar (Cowboy Type) for pistol SO*. Ni JOHNSON SMITH & COMPANY^ Oapt, 924 r GOOD LUCK BING Vary atriking. quaint and mon. Silver finish; NOVELTY BADGES akull and erosebones daaign. two brilliant, flashing gams •park!* out of tbs tyee. Bald to bring good l irk.Owly 2So ppd. Kitting Ptrmii 10* Carter 7 nt peeler tOo Two eery novel metal badcoe, nickel plated, that you eaa wear, gim * you fun pma out of all proportion to th*. each badge. 3 for 21 dag, peatpnld ssyaksrs. trifling cP« stem, and many other similar illusion*. A mystery tbat bo one has been able to satisfactorily explain. Pries lOa, 3 fot2So, 1dossn7Sc. Jehwaon Smith A Ca. Every Boy His Own Toy Maker Greatest boya* book written. Tells how to make a Pinhole Cam- era, a Canoe, model Railroad, a Telephone, Boomerang. Telegraph Instrument, Box Kite, Talking Machine, i Microscope, Electric Motor. Electric Door Bell. Water Wheel, Paddle Raft, a pair of Skis, a Dog Sled. Bird House, Rabbit Yard, etc. 64 pages. 150 illustrations. PRICE, 10c postpaid; 3 for 25c. Serpent’s Eggs Box contain* 1* *«X* WbaO ~ lit with a match, each ong gradually batches itself into • snake airafil feet long, which curl* and twists about in • most lif*4ik* manner, . Price per bos. lOc postpaid, 3 for 2 So- BLANK CARTRIDGE PISTOL Th# Lot ™/Yobttwa opaimst Burglar*. Tramp*. A Dog* Special dfSr t mm -■ A i. I Blank Cartridge * rrm > 1 -Nt’ Woll_ a fT active, mod- al I ad on latest typo of Revolver; , appearance alone Is enough to scare • glar. When loaded It may be aa effective as m realr - * Bart ard .22 Cal. Blank Cart- The “Little Giant” Typewriter A First Class Writing Machine For $1.50 A perfect little typewriter for 91X0. There are thousands of parsons who would bks to us* a typewriter but whoM needs and ktieii-ee* do not war- rant tha expense attached to tha pur- chase and iiNofi fifty or seventy-five dollar machine. To sueb persons we confidently recommend our Lilli* I Giant. Iti* atrongly nade, but simple fin construotion, mo that anyone can qui-kly learn to operate it. and write as rapi-lly as they would with *>en and ink. Tha letters of tha alphabet moat frequently used are so grouped aa to enable on# to writ* rapidly, the numeral# 1 to 10, and Hie punctuation mark# being together. With this machine you can eend your beet girl typewritten lore letter*, address envelopes, make out hills, and do almost , any kind of work not requiring a large, expensive machine. With each typewriter we send n tub* of ink and full printed instruction# for using th* machine. Price com- plot* SI .SO by mail postpaid to any address in tha world. the new potato pistol Thi* is surely the moat ingenious of all air pi-tola. For ammunition ALL YOU .V fl 0 IS A.V OROIS ARY POTATO, and that i.n’t hard to g-t. Merely place the point of the barrel of tho piatol into a potato, as -liovn in the illustration, withdraw the pistol and fire. Nothing could he simpler. It fires quite a dis- tance, goes off with a report like nil air guns, and there is absolutely no danger. Well and strongly m«de entirely of metaL Price Post- paid. Only 35c. ADp Uxe Edition Bf mm «M 1930 CATALOG Ml M M racafpt •« 25c. Handsome binding. Bigger ana patter than ever. Oaty booh ol Its hind In exlstaoco. Nearly 650 page* o» all tho latest tricks In magic, tha newest ewveltiee. paxtiee. robber stamps, anaaaai m4 ■ distance, nesnr wjw »■*« »» n,.s,i NteTTl novelties, pussies, games, sporting goods, rubber stamps- unusual and HS-9 later eating books. ppHaaitioa In seeds and plants, etc., unprocurable ' |MWh#r«. Remit by Stamp*. Coin. Money Order. Chock, eta. Unused WHS! U ft Canadian and Foreign Stamps alao accepted. O. D. shipments. JOHN5UH SMITH & COMPAHT, Dept, 924* RACINE, WIS, Throw Your Voice Into a trunk, under the bed orj anywhere. Lota of fun fooling the, teacher, policeman or friends. The VENTRILO a little instrument, fits in themouthoutof si^ht, used with above for Bird Calls, :. Anyone can use it. Never fails. A 16-Page Course on all FOR, ttenveS.8ra.8nd 10 Cents' DISSOLVING VIEWS 50c the 'tmnfidentexpectation .ol little peep -show. A regular startler. Made entirely of metal, having a microscopic Una fitted intoonnend. While t he vutira 1 is absorbed in ad- 'TP a miration of tha VUy pretty picture and tarns the button la ••ting. a spring syringe la _ the observer experience* a very great mirpri cents each postpaid. JOHNSON SMITH of aeefng something intar- ■ brought into action, and a very great eurprien. SO A CO. Lover’s Knot or Friendship Ring Made of 4 strands of genuine 14K gold filled wire, woven in- to the True Lover's Knot, symbolic of love orfriendship. Very pretty, yet not showy. Each ring is madeby hand by gold wire expert. It looks good and it is good. Price SOc Postpaid Johnson Smith & Co. Magic Tricks LOOK Watch Charm Pistol WONDERFUL INSTRUMENT Nine separate articles in one. Odd. curious and interesting. I pleasure s* ell a* very oseful Malt is a double Mieroacope for # Hi,. « a m i n i n g the wonders of nature. It is also an tOperaGlaa*. a Stereo- — w J, a Burning Lens. __ Heading Glass, a Tele- scope. a Comps,,. » Poeket Mirror, and a Laryngoscope — for examin- eye, ear. noae and throat. It b worth all in on# painful cinder in the *ya Fold* Hat and Only 3 Sc or 3 for Si.OO. *1.75 _ o h a in . Load* like a regular pistol. Pull the trigger and it foaa off with aloud bang. Piatol is break open type: illustration iliowi position for loading. Mad* -* *- “* — * ■J--J — * *■ * v — JTom*jy entirely of high grad* steel. n»« k*l plated, octagon barrel, ongraved handle*, complete in box with cleaning rod. PI Also furnished with pearl handle*, S2.50. BLANK CARTRIDGES, SOc par box of 28. JOHNSON SMITH A CO.. Dept. 324T RACINE. WlS. RTRIDGES, SOc MICROPHONE TRANSMITTER BUTTON Yoo can easily malm a highly sen*. live dateete- phono by using this Tranamitur Button to ooU*#t Iba sound wave*. Joti can build your own outfit boteL TMa outfit was used by aacrat eervice operatirea during tba arsr. It is being us*d on tbs Stag*. It is ultrasensitive and is tba greatest in- vention in micro-pt-one*. You ean mount tb# button almost anywhere— card board boxes, stove pipes, stiff calendars, on th* wall behind a picture frame, ate. Button is eo tight and email it cannot b# detected. P-reona can be overheard without rpecting it. You ean listen in on conversation* ano“ another room. A deaf person in th* sudienr* bear the speaker. *- piano or other musical ean bear ihV speaker. ~ Connected to pboaocrapb, — * Instrument, music can ba beard hundred* of f*#t away. Button may ba used to renew telephone transmitter*: often make* an old line "talk up" when nothing else will. Tb* ideal microphone for radio uaa: carries heavy currant and is extremely sensi- tive. Amplifies radio signal*. Countleee Other similar uses will suggest themselves. Experiment*™ find tha button useful for hundreds of experi- ment* along tba tinea of telephones, amplifiers, loud speakers, ate. Many fsscinating et-mts may be devised, such aa bolding tba button against tho throat or chest to reproduce speech without sound waves. PRICE SI.OO, JOHNSON SMITH * CO.. DEPT. 924 v RACINE. WIS. MAGICIAN'S BOX OF TRICKS Appmrstus and Directions for m Number of Mys- terious Tricks, Enough for an Entire Evening** $100 Entertainment * * * 9$T Anyone Can Do Th It is great fun mystifying your friends. Get this Conjurer’# Cabi- net. and you will be the elevereel fellow in your district. II contain* tba apparatus for ten first-rlaaa trick*, including The M AGIO BALL ANl> VASE TRICK (a wood e n ball is pi ac ed msid - . a nd u pon replacing the lid has disappeared, and is found in eomeone else’* pock- et) : '1 ho UIN DOO 1 HICK CA K I >3\ (ean ba made to chango cotnpl-'-ly DO lea* than five times): DIS- APPEARING COIN BOX. (a coin, placed In tha ooodea bog. vanish*# in^° * «ou» of another denomination); Tba GLASS GOB- LET 1 HICK (a coin is dropped into a glass of water and when tha water is vanished and is found soma where else): tho RICBON FACTORY FROM THE MOLTH TRICK (a seemingly enrjleas supply of eolortd pa^r ribbons come* out of your mouth): tbo DISAPPEARING HANDKERCHIEF (a handkerchief held in the hand mvsteriouslr yanishes); tba WIZARD 8 RiNO COIN TRICK; tha ENCHANTED BOTTLE (no ona but y ourself 1* abla to make it lay down) : tha GREAT 11 AT AND DICE TRICK <a large dire ia placed on top of a hat. disappears, and is found under- neath yet no one ha* touched the hat), and last, but not least, tba GREAT PHANTOM CARD TRICK, or two from five leaves nothing. Full in- structions are sent for performing each trik in addition to tba above, a number of other feat* and illusions are fullyexplnirrd for which you can easily maka or procure tb* necessary apparatus. Price complete $1.00 postpaid 10c An excellent little book containing 250 hW trifks. trick# with card*. ruins handkerrhiefa. egg,, rings, gla<wc». etc. So simple that a child can perform them. Prof use h ill us. Sent BABY TANK so deailly in the greet war. somewhat of a mystery, for thore is no mechanism to wind up aala usually understood with mechanical toys, yet this tank willkoop plodding along ten time# longer than tha ordinary run of toys. Itwlll perform doxens of the most wonderful stunts. 25c prepaid. ITCHING Powder This la another good prac- tical joke; th* intense dis- comfiture of your victims to pveryone.but themselves Is thoroughly enjoyable. All that Is necessary to start th# ball rolling is to deposit a tit- tle of the powder on a per- son's band and the powder can be relied upon to do th# rest. The result Is a vigorous sciytch. then some more scratch, and still some more. 1 Ocbox ,3boxs< for 25c or 75c per dozen. Shipped by Express. Johnson Smith JkCo., Dept. 924 • Racine, Wis. tit ANARCHIST BOMBS One of these glass vials dropped In a room full of peoplo will causa more consternation tbanalimbur- gercheese. ThesroellenUrelydla- eppears in a short time. lDc ■ Box, 3 Boxes for 25c or 7 5c per jo’hnson s^itm^co'^pan'y SNEEZING POWDER Place a very small a- tDount of this powder on the back of your band and blow it into tba air. and every one In the room or car will be- fln to snoeze with ‘ nowing tb* reai why. It is most an Ing to boar tkalr re- ■ marks, as they never suspect th* real source, but think they have caught it one from another. Between the laughing and sneezing you yourself will bo having the time or your life. For partit*, political mertinj., oar ride*, or V any place at all where there in e gathering of peopl *, Is th* grcaUmtjok* out. Price 10c, 3 lor 25c. Sc per doxen. Shipped by Expraea- Jo hnaon Smith A Co., Dept. 924 . Racine. Wl». COMICAL MOTTO RINGS Lotaof harmless funand nmusement wearing these rings. Made in platinoid finish (t« resemble plati- num), with wording on aelnid, aa H‘ * I I :• 25c ea. en.-imeloid, aa illiirttrated. Johnson Smith & Co., Dept? off* RacfneVR^tL Rubber Chewing Gum }u*iu,t'a-- - package oi and Liuas so real that it fv^.ls every- body. And no1 ono of course lOe a Pkg*. $ for tSe Potpaid irasnectaTt U not genuina tmtfl they start to chsw It. There’s a world of fun in this rubber chewing gum. fisticks tothepackage. Price 10c Package; 3 for 25c; 12 for 75c, Postpaid. Stamps taken. ADDRESS ORDERS FOR ALL GOODS ON THIS PAGE TO JOHNSON SMITH & CO. Racine, Wis.

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E4KIP HERE’S your chance to own that brand new Genuine Model 3 Corona you’ve wanted — on the easiest terms ever offered — at LOWEST PRICE ever offered. Com- lete in every detail; back spacer, etc., Manufacturer’s Guarantee. Recog- nized the world over as the finest, strongest, sturdiest portable built. Send •Yo •Honey Leatheroid carrying case, oiler, instruc- tions free on this offer. Send no money just the coupon. Without delay or red tape we will send you the Co- rona. Try it 10 days. If you decide to keep it, send us only $2— then $3 a month until our special price of $39.90 is paid. Now is the ti Only a limited number of these splendid ma- chines available. To get one, you must act now! Experience the joy this personal writing portable typewriter can give you! Use it ten days free! See how easy it is to run and the splendidly typed letters it turns out. Ideal for the office desk, home, traveling. Small, compact, light, convenient. Don’t send out letters, manuscripts, reports, bills in poor handwriting when you can have this Corona at such a low price on such easy terms. Remember these are brand new machines right out of the Corona factory. Save Money buy to This offer be ma a never Mail repeat cou pon now loin* foT 10 DAYS T SEE USE THIS COUPON Smith Typewriter Sales Corp., (Corona Division) 469 E. Ohio St., Chicago, 111. Dept.C.9 Shio me the Con*na, F.O B. Chicago. On arrival l'U deposit 12 with express agent. If I keep the machine. I'll send you 13 a month until the 137.90 balance of 139.90 price is paid; the title to remain with you until then. I am to have 10 days to try the typewriter. If 1 decide not to keep it. 1 will repack and return to express agent, who will return my S2. You are to give your standard guarantee. Name Address Emptoy^by^

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4 D P2 7 -The ^ •• bridal Blossom" — • beautiful new creation. Hand pierced lace design engagement ring of IKK Solid White Gold set with a superior quality genuine blue-white diamond of exceptional brilliance. Mi! 50.91 now. 93 46 a mo. DP28-Gor- geously hand carved 18K Solid White Gold "Bridal Blossom" wedding ring set with 5 specially matched sparkling, gen- uine blue-white diamonds. Unusual value $29.50. SI now ,^JS2 37 a mo. ~ — DPI- Newest Butterfly design, solitaire engagement ring of I8K Solid White Gold set with a superior quality tqiarkling. genuine blue- white diamond Price S5C. $1 now. $4.08 u month. OP24- Richly hand engraved Fierce J Dinner King of 4K Solid White Gold, set with 3 fiery, genuine blue- white diamonds and 2 French-blue sapphires. Price $29.50. SI now. $2 37 a mo ^ $3650 OP21-H.au- tlfully engraved and igerced 18K Solid White Gold lady's solitaire mounting set with a fiery, genuine blue-white dia- mond Price 936.50. $1 now, 92 96 a month. DP23-Very graceful and distinctive, modern, square prong, solitaire engagement ring New 'step' design mounting of hand engraved 18K Solid White Gold: set with a specially selected dazzling, genuine blue-white diamond Price 875. SI now. $6.16 a month. DP2S - Exquisitely hand- pierced and engraved 18K Solid White Gold ring set with large size, brilliant, genuine blue-white diamond In center: 2 smaller, matched, genuine diamonds and 2 sapphires on sides Price $57.50. $1 now, $4-71 a month. i : : DPlO-Gorgeous. latest design, dinner ring set with 3 fiery, gen- uine blue-white diamonds and 2 French-blue sapphires exquisitely hand pierced 18K Solid White Gold ring Price $42 50 $1 now $3.46 a mo. *48*° DPi2-Daullng cluster of 7 perfectly matched genuine blue- white diamonds: hand pierced 18K Solid White Gold lady's mounting. Looks like *750 soli- taire. Big value Price $48.50 SI now. 93 96 a mo. »27*° DP22- Gentleman's massive, hand engraved ring of 14 K Solid White Gold Imported black Onyx with a genuine diamond and any carved Initial or emblem de- sired Price $27.50. 81 now. 92 21 a mo. DPT- New. massive, gen- tleman's handsomely carved ring of 14K Solid Green Gold and 18K Solid White Gold top In which Is set a flashing, genuine blue-white dia- mond. Price $50. 91 now. $4 08 a month. DP29 • Latest style, modernistic effect in a hand pierced 18K Solid White Gold lady's ring with new •step’ sides; set with a ftcrv genuine blue-white diamond. Price 929.50 91 now. 82.37 a month. Jtwtlry of Distinction Brought within Your Easy Roach Guaranteed Savings Direct Diamond Importations and large volume buying for both our National Mall Order business ana our chain store system enable us to offer you superior quality genuine dia- mond*. fine standard watches and exquisite jewelry at saving prices which are beyond comparison. All of this with no extra charge for the added con- venience and advantage of dignified, liberal credit, that Is— the policy of "Royal." How to Order Just send 51.00 wtth your order and your selection comes to you on lO Days* Free Trial. No C.O.D. to pay on arrival. After full examination and free trial, balance In 12 equal monthly payments. Satisfaction Guaranteed lO Days' Free Trial You have the full privilege of 10 days' free trial — If not completely satisfied return shipment at our expense and the entire deposit will be refunded. Written guarantee bond with every purchase. DP32 The “LELONG". a newer and more beautifjl ELGIN creation direct from Paris. Exquisitely engraved fashionable rectangular case created exclusively for ELGIN by Mme. Lelong. a foremost Parisienne stylist. Latest modern design with black enamel; Bne black silk gros grain ribbon band. The Guaranteed ELGIN movement insures accurate time-keeping Combines style and dependability to the utmoet degree. Price 835.00. tl Now. 82 83 a month. DP8-t*ady's wrist watch. I4K Solid White Gold engraved case: set with 2 genuine diamonds and H emeralds or sapphires Guaranteed 15-jewel movement. Newest style, pierced flexible bracelet with sapphires or emeralds to match. Price 837.50. 81 now. 93.04 a month. Smart Msw Design *• Priced Unusually Lew All Dealings Strictly Confidential No Embarrassing Investigations A whole year to pay! No extra charge — do red tape. You take no risk — satisfaction abso- lutely guaranteed or money back. Gift Cases Free Every article comes to you In a most beautiful and appropriate presentation case. DP9-The ’’Prin- cess Pat"— a remark- able value! 14 K Solid White Gold engraved case, guaranteed 15-jewel movement. Engraved genuine "Wrist- acrat" flexible bracelet to match. Price 824.50. 81 now. 81.96 a month.. D P 31 - Nationally known guaranteed ELGIN or WALTHAM movement War- ranted 14K White or Oroon Gold filled 25-year case Latest style flex- ible mesh wrist band to match. 82 21 a mo. CATALOGUE/ F / TO ADULTS Hjy Completely tllua- / t rated new cata- // logue of superior // quality genuine dla- 7 monda: Bulova. Elgin, i Waltham. Hamilton. Howard. Illinois watches: fine jewelry and silverware at unusu- ally attractive prices. Write new to get your Free Copy. DPS-Nationally ad- ™ vertised gentleman’s 15- jewel Bulova. Accurate and depend- able wrist watch White gold-tilled en- Kved ease, "dust tite" protector to p out dust and dirt : radium dial and hands: furnislied with latest style woven wrist band to match 829 75 .91 now, 32 39 a month. a DPl9-Natlonally ad- vertised 15- jewel WALTHAM move- ment; 20-year warranted White Gold filled, engraved. 12 tdse. thin model, decagon case. Tested and regulated Superior grade. White Gold filled pocket knife, fine "Waldemar" chain. All complete in handsome gift case. 827.50. 81 now. $2.21 a mo Address, Dept. 56Z 170 Broadway, New York. Smart-Modern JEWELRY 10 DAYS’ FREE TRIAL DIAMOND £ WATCH CO