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AUTHOR Of -THE OCCASIONAL OfFENDER."
“THE WIRE TAPPERS ” “GUN RUNNERS ” ETC
novelized from the pathe photo play of the same name
«»V«ICHT. nn. IT A«THU* ,
TWENTIETH EPISODE
The Laughing Mask’s Triumph.
Margery Golden suddenly threw
aside the magazine which she had been
listlessly thumbing, and springing to
her feet, crossed rapidly to the window
of her cool, white bedroom. As she
stood gazing out with unseeing eyes,
a little frown of vexation puckered
her forehead. From the open windows
of the spacious living-room on the
first floor came the subdued murmur
of voices. But to Margery’s straining
ears not a word of that low-toned con
ference was audible. Occasionally she
heard the rumble of Captain Brackett’s
voice, more strident and authoritative
than the others.
The resentful ofHcer of the law had
conceived the idea than on more than
one occasion Margery had aided and
abetted the Laughing Mask in slip
ping through his fingers, and *t was
for that reason she was now excluded
from the deliberations where the cap
ture of the elusive masquerader was
under discussion. In anticipation of
tliis very state of affairs Margery had
devised the ingenious method for
learning the plans of the detectives.
Having ascertained that the con
ference was in full swing, she quickly
went to a small wicker table and,
taking off the telephone receiver, held
It pressed tightly to her ear. Her
wire was a house extension connected
with the trunk line which ran into
the living-room, where her father and
the officers were now gathered. In
that room the telephone standard,
resting on a heavy mahogany table,
had been tampered with.
Presently the booming voice of the
police captain came to the ears of the
listening girl.
“When I go after a man I don’t
quit till I get him,” she heard him
announce in self-laudatory tones. “I
landed that one-armed crook, Jules
Legar, in a cell all right, an’ I tell
you, Mr. Golden, if it hadn’t been for
your daughter interferin’ I’d had the
bracelets on the Laughing Mask long
ago.”
At that moment Margery heard the
door shut behind a new arrival, nnd
again it was Captain Brackett’s voice
which reached her as he impatiently
questioned the detective who had just
entered.
“What are you doin’ here, Walters?
Didn’t you get the orders I sent you
by Jenkins to take Legar out of that
chicken-coop they call a jail out here,
an’ keep yourself handcuffed to him
every minute until he was safe in
the Tombs?”
“I got your orders, chief,” came a
hesitating voice, presumably that of
the sleuth called Walters, “but I’ve
got some bad news for you, Legar’s
broke jail. He croaked Jenkins and
made a clean getaway.”
Then Margery heard the hurried
tones of the detective ns he launched
into an account of the strange escape
of Jules Legar.
“I don’t see where I’m to blame,
chief,” he began in a somewhat ag
grieved voice. “I seen Jenkins aroun’
noon. He was goin’ into the jail with
a tray from the restaurant. He stops
He Knew His Doom Was Sealed.
and gives me your orders and says I
might as well wait outside until Legar
had his feed. That seemed reason
able, an’ I hung aroun’ for ’bout half
an hour. Then when Jenkin3 didn’t
come out, I commenced to get kind
o’ uneasy like an’ I steps Inside to see
what was goin’ on.
“Lyin’ face down in the corridor I
found Jenkins, just outside of Legar’s
cell. The cell was empty, with the
door standln’ open and Jenkins' key
in the lock. We combed every inch
of that jail, but Legar had disappeared
without leavin’ a trace behind him.
I could tell by the looks of Jenkins
that he was dead, but when I turned
him over I got an awful shock. His
face was all twisted up with sufferin’
and full of deep lines and wrinkles.
Then I seen his hair was all streaked
with gray. When he spoke to me he
was a healthy young feller, but when
I found him he was like some old man
about 70, what had died of some awful
disease. That’s about all an’ I don’t
see how—”
But Margery did not wait to hear
the concluding remarks of the detec
tive, for at this point she abruptly
hung up the receiver. Here was news
of a startling character which must
be imported to the masked guardian
of her safety without loss of time.
Without stopping to even catch up a
hat, she slipped out of her room and
down the stairway. As she tiptoed
softly past the living-room, the door
suddenly opened and Captain Brack
ett anil Walters stood on the thresh
old. The stern-faced officer watched
the slender girl as she went out of the
front door and closed it behind her.
Then he turned to his crestfallen sub
ordinate.
“Never mind doin’ what I was tell
in’ you, Walters,” he tersely command
ed. “I want you to shadow that young
woman. Don’t lose sight of her for
a minute.”
So it happened that when Margery
Golden paused by the mysterious lone
bowlder on Seven Oaks Hill a hawk
faced detective was hidden not ten
paces distant behind one of the groat
trees from which the ridge took its
name. He saw the girl glance fur
tively about her, and then from her
pursed lips came a low, thrilling call
like that of a bird. After a brief in
terval she repeated this signal, and
presently a yellow-masked man came
stealthily around the side of the
great bowlder. The hidden listener
caught enough of what Margery Gol
den was saying to become aware that
she was recounting, almost word for
word, his own story of the escape of
Jules Legar.
“I have a theory of my own as to
what was used to kill Jenkins in
that fearful manner,” the Laughing
Mask was saying, “and I am going
to find out tonight whether I am right
or wrong. Legar’s followers have all
been wiped out with the exception of
■a man calling himself Skidmon. He
was known as a brilliant scientist un
til he contracted the drug habit, and
then, when he was down and out, he
fell in with Legar. He lives in a
tumble-down old house at the foot of
the blind alley south of Washington
square.
At that moment the detective,
burning with zeal to make up for the
escape of Jules Legar by the sudden
capture of the Laughing Mask, sud
denly emerged from behind the oak
tree and rapidly advanced upon the
startled pair. As the Laughing Mask
darted around the bowlder toward the
secret door leading into the subterra
nean retreat, Margery planted herself
directly in the path of the oncoming
Walters.
“You’ve about gone the limit this
time, young woman,” he snarled as
he seized her slender wrist in his
powerful grasp, “an’ we’ll see what
the chief thinks of your helpin’ that
criminal make a getaway.”
A little later the burly Walters
haled his frail prisoner Into the living
room, where her father and the de
tectives were still gathered. Captain
| Brackett, fuming with anger, tried
I his utmost to wring from her the
I secret of the bowlder, but his rapidly
volleyed questions failed to break her
I sphinxlike silence. Finally her loving
| but sorely tried father locked her in
her bedroom to prevent her further
interference. Hastily going to her im
| promptu dictaphone, Margery heard
I the voice of Walters repeating what
! the Laughing Mask had said about
! Skidmon, the last of Legar’s hench
men. When he had finished, the blat
-1 ant tones of Captain Brackett came
over the thread of copper.
“Our best move will be to watch
the house of this Skidmon,” he an
nounced decisively, “an’ when our man
comes along we'll nab hint. If we’re
playin’ in luck we might get Legar In
the same dragnet.”
As Margery replaced the receiver
she realized the Laughing Mask was
threatened with grave danger. In
some way she must warn him. But
there seemed no possibility of escap
ing from the bedroom. Then a sudden
scheme flashed into her mind, which
she hastened to put into execution.
To mislead her father she tied the
bed sheet to the window sill, and wljen
that gentleman discovered the sup
posed escape, he ran to the shrubbery
beneath the window. Then Margery
stole out of the closet and silently
went her way in her car.
As Margery paused in front of a
dismal old rookery she suddenly per
ceived in the moonlight a shadowy
form mounting steadily upward on
the narrow fire-escape ladder. When
that stealthy prowler stepped onto
the iron platform just outside the
lighted window she saw it was the
daring masker and realized she was
too late to warn him. Before she
could attract his attention he cau
tiously raised the window and van
ished Into that house of mystery.
But she quietly determined he should
not be taken unawares by his ene
mies and quickly followed.
She slipped into the empty bedroom
and, warily crossing the floor, stood
in spellbound wonder gazing through
the open doorway. Backed up against
a bench stood the tense figure of a
middle-aged man with drooping eyelids
and the pasty gray complexion that
betrayed the habitual use of some
noxious drug.
He had apparently been Interrupted
in the midst of his investigations, for
on the bench, just behind him, was
some object protected from the light
by a strip of thin toweling, a long
platinum needle used in extracting
germ colonies from their cultures, a
compound microscope and an open
notebook for recording the result of
his labors. Facing the Intimidated
drug fiend stood the Laughtng Mask.
“My patience is about exhausted,
Skidmon,” he said to the man shrink
ing back against the bench, “and un
less you write that confession clear
ing me of those crimes committed by
Legar with your devilish assistance,
I am going to shoot you through the
head with as little compunction as
though you were a mad dog. Your
terrible poisons have been responsible
for more than one unsolved murder
and society will be well rid of you.”
This convincing threat had the de
sired effect, for the stoop-shouldered
chemist moved sullenly toward a
small writing desk standing near the
window. As his reluctant pen traveled
slowly over a sheet of foolscap, the
Laughing Mask stood looking over his
shoulder, prompting the other’s de
linquent memory with an occasional
quiet and the insistent menace
of that ever-ready revolver. The de
tails of those abhorrent crimes, com
mitted in cold blood by Legar for the
sole purpose of setting the police up
on his enemy, had practically been
completed when a shrill penetrating
whistle sounded from the alley.
The Laughing Mask turned quickly
to the nearby window and, throwing
back the shutters, leaned out and
. *
/ ' : : x
• i ■■-■■■ ■ :• • . • ;,.•••• • ■
In the Grasp of the Detectives Wer© No Less Than Four Laughing Masks.
strove to ascertain the meaning of
that foreboding signal. For a moment
only he relaxed his guard over the
crafty poisoner, but that moment gave
to Skidmon the chance he had been
seeking. Before the startled girl,
watching through the doorway, could
cry out a word of warning, he launch
ed himself upon the half-bent figure
leaning out of the open window.
Caught at a decided disadvantage
and unable to use his weapon, the
Laughing Mask suddenly lost his bal
ance, and, grasping wildly at the
empty air, plunged headlong from the
window down into the abysmal dark
ness.
He seemed doomed to sure destruc
tion, but fate decreed the springy
branch of an elm tree should catch
that hurtling body, and the force of
his fall was broken when, limp and
unconscious, he dropped a second
later onto the stone flagging by the
cellar doorway.
As the moon swung across the star
strewn heavens its pale light disclosed
the still form of the unconscious
Laughing Mask lying under the labor
atory window from which the infuri
ated scientist had flung him. A one
armed man, who <s?me slinking out
of the shadows, saw the inert figure
and bent over it with a savage ex
clamation of triumph. He glanced
furtively about him, and, throwing
back the bulkhead doors leading into
the cellar, backed down the short
flight of steps, dragging the Laughing
Mask after him, like a spider drag
ging a fly into some dark recess.
Legar seemed strangely at home in
his dark and gloomy surroundings,
for after letting the Laughing Mask
drop heavily to the cement flooring,
his groping fingers quickly found a
battered lantern hanging fronj a
rusty hook. This feeble illumination
showed the cellar to be piled with
all sorts of discarded household furni
ture, including a pile of worn-out
carpeting near where the masked man
was lying. As Legar bent over the
helpless figure a faint noise came from
the stairway leading to the floor
above. He instantly straightened up
and made a search for the noises.
From under the pile of carpeting
two pair of long arms suddenly
stretched out toward the silent form
of the Laughing Mask, and, quickly
seizing him by the feet and shoul
ders, dragged him under the frayed
folds of that ancient floor covering.
When the scarred outlaw gave up his
fruitless search and returned to the
place where he had left the Laugh
Ing Mask, with the full intention of
dispatching that sworn enemy with
his own hands, he gave a gasp of in
credulous amazement as it dawned
upon him that his intended victim
had completely disappeared.
It flashed into his mind that the
Laughing Mask might have recovered
sufficiently to have crawled up the
short flight of cellar steps, and, hurry
ing outside, he commenced a system
atic search of the dark corners where
a man in desperate straits might en
deavor to hide. He had hardly left
the cellar when the pile of threadbare
carpet showed signs of sudden agi
tation, and, in obedience to certain
commands Issued in painfully broken
whispers, two spectral figures emerged
from under that singular refuge and
glided toward the stairway leading to
the upper story, where the laboratory
was located.
In that laboratory the wide-eyed
Margery Golden was searching the
littered work bench, hoping to find
something to Incriminate the venom
ous Skidmon. She did not venture to
touch the glittering instruments, but
turned her attention to the object
which was hidden under the thin strip
of toweling. When, after a little
hesitation, she gingerly raised that
flimsy covering, she saw a thin glass
vessel bearing a printed label and half
filled with a gelatinous substance. She
stooped and read from the label the
words "Colon Bacilli,” but that did
not convey to her that in the nutrient
medium contained in that Petri dish
was a culture growth alive with mil
lions of malignant germs. Hoping to
find some more tangible clue, she re
placed the towel and picked up the
open notebook lying near the micro
scope. Her face went white with
the horror of the thing as she de
ciphered the cramped entries:
May 13 —Emmerich has advanced
the theory that old age is brought
about in large part by the weakened
resistence of the subject to the rav
ages of the bacillus coli, colonies of
which invariably infest the digestive
tract of every person even though in
normal health. The activity and num
ber of these bacilli vastly Increase with
advancing age, causing a form of auto-
intoxication and a subsequent harden
ing of the arteries due to increased
blood pressure, ansi other symptoms
of general structural decay. It would
seem probable that from a sufficiently
large colony of colon bacilli a virulent
toxic poison might be extracted,
which, administered even in minute
quantities, should almost Immediately
attack the tissues and destroy the
subject with all the indications of
death from extreme old age. Such
a poison, apparently unknown to
science, and already present in less
malignant form in every human sys
tem, would be extremely baffling in
the event of an autopsy. I shall im
mediately start experimenting along
these lines.
May 13—The colony of colon bacilli
which I started In a gelatin culture
medium is multiplying rapidly. Flour
ishes best at blood heat—destroyed
at temperature of GO degrees Centi
grade. The change in color from gray
ish white to brown should indicate
an increase in virulence and pathogen
ic qualities.
May 17—Inoculated guinea pig with
bacilli poison—died Instantly; body
shrunk and withered; much encour
aged.
May 20 —Discovery has just been
put to a gratifying practical test —
managed to get a needle infected with
the bacilli extract to Legar who had
been captured and confined in prison.
Legar has just communicated with
me. lie succeeded in scratching his
jailer with the contaminated needle,
and the man was seized immediately
with convulsions aryl died in two or
three minutes with all the symptoms
to be expected. Legar regained his
liberty, and now wishes to destroy an
entire family named Golden. I will
prepare minute capsules which will
keep the bacilli alive and
And as with a shudder Margery came
to the last unfinished and cold
blooded entry she heard Skldmop .rap
idly approaching the door. Thrusting
the incriminating journal into her
dress, she quickly stole into the back
room, where she could watch the
laboratory without being observed her
self. She saw the unnerved bacte
riologist hurriedly drag a battered
trunk from a dark and cavernous
closet. As he threw an uneasy glance
toward the door leading Into the hall
Ills face suddenly ?n>ze into an expres
sion of abject terror.
Advancing from the doorway came
n figure with features cloaked by a
mocking yellow mask. This startling
apparition deliberately aimed a black
automatic at the terrified scientist
and with his left hand silently pointed
to the desk where lay the unfinished
confession. Skidmon faltered toward
the desk in obedience.
But his Intelligent mind worked
quickly, and by the time he had affixed
his name to that document vindicat
ing the masked fugitive from Legar’s
atrocious crimes he had banished the
fears which this supernatural resur
rection had caused him and deter
mined on a course of potion. Rising
from the desk he approached the
Laughing Mask, who was standing
near the open closet with his ready
weapon In his hand. Skidmon held
out the signed confession, but before
the other could take it the paper, with
seeming inadvertence, slipped from
the fingers of the scientist nnd flutter
ed to the floor. As he stooped to re
gain It he suddenly hurled his weight
against the legs of his unsuspecting
enemy with a force that sent him
toppling over backward into the
depths of the closet, and before the
Laughing Musk could regain his foot
ing the door had been swung shut
and bolted.
Margery, from her place of conceal
ment, saw the loose-lipped malefactor
make a motion as though to destroy
the confession, but he suddenly grew
rigid as though gripped again by the
hand of fear. Following the direc
tion in which his eyes were staring,
she saw the reason for his trepida
tion. A figure masked in the identi
cal manner as the man just impris
oned in the closet came slowly through
the hall doorway.
“It would be foolish to tear up that
little document,” he said in tones of
grim determination, “for you would
have to write it over. As it is rather
essential to my welfare, I’ll trouble
you to hand it to me.”
But instead of complying with this
demand the dazed and panic-stricken
analyst backed slowly away from
that terrifying specter. His retreat
was suddenly checked by the labor
atory work bench, on which he heavily
dropped a trembling hand to steady
himself. As he did so there came a
sharp sound of breaking glass and,
with an abrupt cry of pain, he flung
up his deeply gashed hand, splashed
with blood and a thick ooze of gelatin
ous matter. He turned and saw the
splintered pieces of the fragile vessel
which had contained the colon bacilli
culture. A dull moan of horror, came
from his blue lips as he realized he
was hopelessly inoculated with the
deadly virus.
In wild desperation he caught up
the towel from the work bench and
scrubbed the smear of blood and
sticky substance from his open wound.
But the strip of linen dropped from
his nerveless fingers as a series of
convulsive tremors shook his tortured
body. Then his knees gave way under
him and he slowly sank upon the
floor, and after several jerky spasms
his pain-racked form was stilled in
death.
Overcome by the sight of that grue
some Margery stood rooted
to the floor inarticulate and trem
bling. She saw the Laughing Mask
pick up the confession and go out of
the laboratory toward the stairway.
Still holding the revolver, lie descend
ed to the cellar with the air of a
man whose mission is but half fin
ished. Even as he hastily concealed
himself back of the piles of carpet
he heard Legar returning from his
futile search of the premises. That
puzzled worker of iniquity suddenly
found himself looking Into a revolver
held by the Laughing Mask, who had
stepped out of the shadows.
Realizing he hud been outwitted
and that resistance was useless, Legar
raised his arms above his head in
obedience to the curt command of the
other. Rut the evil genius was not
slumbering, and as his lifted right
hand came in contact with a large
earthen flower pot standing on a
shelf above him he grasped that
heavy object and hurled it with all
his strength full in the face of his
masked opponent.
That crashing and unexpected blow
accomplished its purpose, for the
Laughing Musk dropped in a motion
less heap as though he had been
struck by a bullet. The one-armed
man, bending over his apparently
lifeless enemy, saw a paper protrud
ing from the inner pocket of his coat.
As he glanced at it by the sickly light
of the lantern he realized its pur
port. and hurried up the stairs to call
Skldmon to account for disclosing his
guilty secrets.
The first door he opened proved
to be that of a small butler’s pantry,
and by the flickering light of the
match he saw in the gloomy compart
ment a statue-like form standing with
folded arms. The silently accusing
figure wore a yellow mask. With a
half-strangled oath he dropped the
glowing match end and slammed the
door on that masked apparition.
ITe raced up the stairs to the third
story landing, where he paused to re
gain his breath before entering the
laboratory of his traitorous henchman,
lie suddenly recoiled as though struck
a blow. Down the narrow passage
came the Laughing Mask.
For a moment the terrorized male
factor powered against the rickety
banisters. Then, as that dread figure
came nearer, he wheeled about and
steadily mounting up to meet him
came another figure with its face also
covered by a cynically smiling yellow
mask. The despairing criminal turned
and fled toward the attic, but standing
motionless at the top of that flight
of stairs was still another yellow
hooded figure.' Like some fear-crazed
animal, Legar rushed blindly through
! the laboratory doorway. Skidmon’s
I body lay where it had fallen, and as
Legar’s eye fell on that ghastly and
distorted face he gave a sobbing moan
of fear.
As he glanced toward the hall door
way he saw his escape was cut off in
that direction, for standing on the
threshold was a quietly waiting
Laughing Mask. He threw open the
door leading into the chamber where
Skidmon had been engaged In pack
ing his effects, but stationed In the
center of that room was a forbidding
form wearing a yellow visor. As
Legar backed away from that hateful
vision he tripped over the body of
the dead scientist and fell heavily,
striking his forehead a sharp blow
against the edge of the laboratory
bench. He slowly got to his feet,
pressing his hand in a dazed man
ner against his injured temple, from
which a little crimson stream was
trickling down into his eyes.
Catching up the towel which had
covered the glass vessel broken by
Skidmon, he mopped the blood from
his eyes, and the jagged wound on
his forehead. Then ns he felt a
Clammy moisture on his fevered skin
he hastily examined the towel and
saw it was smeared with a substance
resembling a crushed jelly fish. He
saw none of that gelatinous matter
on the bench and quickly picked out
of it a piece of broken glass bearing
a printed label. As he rend the words,
Colon Bacilli, he knew his doom was
sealed.
With distended eyes and foam
flecked lips he suddenly pitched head
long to the floor, where he lay writh
ing und twisting like a soul in torment.
As the relentless poison ate into his
vitals his convulsive struggles weaken
ed, nnd death stilled forever his
thrashing iron claw.
Then the shuddering girl became
conscious that the Laughing Mask was
standing near, nnd ns he stooped and
took the confession from the stiffening
fingers of the dead criminal she saw
his yellow visor was torn and splashed
with blood.
Suddenly there resounded through
the quiet house the sound of crash
ing blows delivered upon the front
door, followed a moment later by
heavily pounding feet ns the raiding
detectives, headed by Captain Brack
ett, came storming up the stairs.
Presently with Enoch Golden and the
heavy-jawed captain in the lead they
came crowding into the room where
he and Margery were waiting. In the
grasp of those astounded detectives
were no less than four Laughing
Masks, each one an exact counterpart
of the other.
The detectives tore the yellow
coverings of their prisoners and dis
closed the straightforward and un
familiar features of four young men
of about the same age as David Man
ley. With a puzzled exclamation the
police captain approached the remain
ing Laughing Mask standing by the
side of Margery Golden. That man of
mystery silently extended Skidmon’s
confession to the police captain, who
glanced hastily through it.
“Well, I guess that lets you off,”
he muttered with evident disappoint
ment, “but now you’re clear of the
law, what’s the use of hidin’ under
that mask?”
With a quick and decisive move
ment the Laughing Mask stripped
off that grotesquely smiling piece of
yellow cambric, revealing the hand
some and boyish face of the young
secretary, David Manley.
“Now that Legar is dead, my dis
guise has served its purpose,” he ex
plained in quiet tones, as he glanced
around that circle of intent listeners.
“He knew I would try to protect my
employer and his daughter from his
evil purpose of revenge, and by act
ing in a double role I was able to
fight him to better advantage. I
finally organized four of my friends
into a sort of secret order of Laugh
ing Masks, but they always kept in
jggli & j
The Laughing Mask Stood Looking
Over His Shoulder.
the background except on one or two
pressing occasions. Miss Wilkins, my
stepsister, made our masks, and we
used her garden as a meeting place.
Miss Golden has known all this since
we worsted Legar In the coal mine,
and I think she will Join me in in
viting you all to come to a little affair
which Is going to be held in a church
in the very near future.”
As Margery turned away to hide
per tears and her blushes, her father
warmly grasped his former secretary’s
hand, and after a moment the solemn
red face of Captain Brackett slowly
cracked into a sheephh grin as he ex
tended his beefy paw io David Manley,
alias the Laughing M< sk.
(THE E CD.)