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Jssk Me Another
0 A General Quiz
The Questions
1. Who delivered the famous
Cooper Union address?
2. What great river has its flow
controlled by the Assum dam?
3. In what year did Hitler be
come dictator of Germany?
4. What is the official language
of Liberia?
5. An anodyne is a medicine that
does what?
6. What person in fiction had the
“Old Man of the Sea’’ clinging to
his shoulders?
7. How far do the Appalachian
mountains extend?
8. What is a yashmak?
9. How many South American
countries have no seacoast?
The Answers
1. Abe Lincoln.
2. Nile river.
3. In March, 1933, when the
reichstag passed an act giving him
absolute power.
4. English.
5. Relieves pain,
C. Sinbad.
7. From Quebec province to Ala
bama.
8. A double veil worn by Mo
hammedan women.
9. Two, Bolivia and Paraguay.
The Smoke of
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AND
NICOTINE
than the average of the 4
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Lr Hidden Wavs
FREDERIC F. VAN DE WATE.R ®sX* A u!stales
SYNOPSIS
David Mallory, In search of newspaper
Work In New York, Is forced to accept a job
■ s switch-board operator In a swank apart
ment house, managed by officious Timothy
Higgins. There David meets Miss Agatha
Paget, a crippled old lady, and her charm
ing niece, Allegra. One day. talking with
Higgins in the lobby, David Is alarmed by a
piercing scream. David finds the scream
j came from the Ferriter apartment, not far
j from the Pagets'. The Ferrlters Include
Lyon and Everett, and their sister, lone.
Everett, a genealogist, is helping Agatha
Paget write a book about her blue-blooded
ancestors. Inside the apartment they find a
black-bearded man—dead. No weapon can
be fobnd. The police arrive. Higgins, who
actively dislikes David, Informs him that he
Is fired. David Is called to the Paget apart
ment. Agatha Paget offers him a Job help
ing write her family history—which will un
earth a few family skeletons. He accepts
the offer. Meanwhile, police suspect Lyon
Ferriter cl the murder. Jerry Cochrane of
the Press offers David a Job helping solve
the murder. David accepts. He is to keep
on working for Miss Paget, Later David
meets Grosvenor Paget, Allcgra’s brother.
Then, that night, David sees Grosvenor
prowl through the Ferriter apartment. Da
vid confronts Grosvenor with the story. He
l told to mind his own business.
CHAPTER Vl—Continued
—B—
watched me as I took
my tankard. I thought he expected
me to reach a foot for a brass rail
or bloW froth on the floor. Perhaps
It was another doubt that bothered
him. I forgot to wonder about it in
admiration of Miss Agatha.
She plunged her patrician nose
Into the foam and, after a brief in
stant, set down the vessel empty
with a contented sigh. She caught
my eye.
“Beer," she said with authority,
“is a mass beverage, David. Its
virtue lies in volume. People who
aip their beer also like afternoon
tea or Wagner on a fiddle. No beer,
Allegra?”
The girl sat close beside her broth
er. He peered into his tankard. One
of her hands lay on his bowed shoul
der.
“No," she said and smiled, “I’m
too sleepy.”
“Always,” Miss Agatha told me,
nodding toward her niece, “the soul
of courtesy. How much of that ma
terial did you get through?”
“All of it,” I said.
It pleased her.
“Excellent,” she exclaimed, with
h tiny click of her teeth. “Then
tomorrow we can get to work, burn
ing the scandal at both ends.”
“Isn’t it nice,” the girl asked,
and I thought her jauntiness was
forced, “that after all the family
skeletons, Mr. Mallory will drink
with you, Agatha?”
“Bah!” said Miss Agatha and
reached for the untouched tankard,
“David is—”
“Just,” I said as she paused, “an
elevator man coming up in the
world.”
The wrinkles came about her eye
lids. She chuckled.
“That isn’t what I was going to
Bay. Since you are in New York
and your people are in Nebraska,
you may have more use for fami
lies as institutions than I have. Dis
tance makes relations more endura
ble to one another. Of course the
republic is founded on the American
home—”
“There she goes,” Allegra said in
a loud aside to her brother.
“The family is the foundation of
the nation,” the old lady went on,
“and I wonder if that isn’t the trou
ble with things. I believe—”
The peal of the doorbell cut her
abort. Grosvenor rose (o answer it.
“Damn,” said Miss Agatha. “If
It’s that man Shannon again—”
It was Lyon Ferriter. I admired
Miss Paget’s balance.
“Well!” she said warmly, as
though a wish had been answered.
“Come in and revel. Grove, an
other tankard.”
Lyon checked the lad and smiled.
His eyes, moving easily from face
to face, rested on mine an instant
and once more seemed puzzled.
“Thanks,” he said and bowed to
Miss Agatha. “I shouldn’t have in
truded but they said downstairs that
you had just returned. I came, with
Captain Shannon’s permission, to get
some things from my flat and I
wanted to thank you—all of you—
for your neighborliness. There’s an
odd word to use in New York, but
I can think of no better. You were
very good to ray sister, Miss Pag
et," he added more softly; “I shan’t
forget it. You’ve kept your head
better than any of us, during this—
unpleasantness.”
“My dear man,” Miss Agatha said
crisply, “When you've lived as long
as I have, a mere murder can’t
terrify you. And lone?”
“Better,” Lyon replied in the ten
der tone that always accompanied
his mention of her. “We’re coming
back tomorrow. The Babylon is
hardly a refuge. Newspaper men
have found out where we were hid
ing. A policed man’s life is not a
happy one.”
He stood in the doorway, a brown,
worn and pleasant figure, and spread
his hands.
I said to Miss Agatha:
"It’s time I went—or several
hours after time.”
“If,” she answered and her eyes
vere merry, “you can stir that—
that decoration there”—she nodded
toward Grosvenor—“to an interest
in fencing or any exercise, stay
longer.”
As I turned toward the door, Ly
on’s exclamation halted me. “Fenc
b* repeated. “Oh, by George,
HOUSTON HOME JOURNAL. PERRY, GEORGIA
I know you now. Your face has both
ered me for days. I saw you in
Chicago.
“If you did,” I told him, “you
saw me get trimmed.”
“By D’Armhaillac,” he said as if
that excused anything. “You know,”
he told the others, “this lad really
is good.”
“Was good,” I corrected. “That
was two years ago.” I was glad he
fortified the hasty lie I had told to
cover Grosvenor. Lyon ran on like
a boy:
“I use the sword a little myself.
Sometime, I’d like to show you my
collection of blades. Some of them
are rather good.”
I almost told him I had seen them.
Then I remembered the dead man
who had lain before them, and
didn’t. I gave Miss Agatha my new
address and left them talking as
easily as though the last thirty-odd
hours never had happened.
The events of the final sixty min
utes had scrambled my mind. They
had kicked over what theories I had
built and now memory of Allegra,
loyal and valiant and fearful, fought
against the erection of new. I was
half-way to the corner before I re
membered my suitcase still in Hig
gins’ basement flat. Here was some
thing definite to do, an anodyne to
I saw, as I got to my knees, the
outer door open and a dim fig
ure that lied.
bewilderment. I faced about and
went back to the Morello.
The light was out before the base
ment door and the hallway beyond
was dark. I thought that Higgins
might be asleep. That stopped me
for a moment. Asleep or awake, I
decided, there would be a squab
ble and I might as well face it now.
I closed the door, felt for a match
and, finding none, went along the
black hall.
My fingers touched the white
washed stone, once, twice. They
reached out a third time and re
coiled. They had brushed rough
cloth and underneath that was a
body, pressed tight and still against
the wall.
For a second, neither of us moved,
or breathed. Then I lurched forward,
arms spread wide. My hands grazed
the harsh fabric but found no hold.
Something tripped me. I went
down. A foot stamped on my knuck
les. I grabbed for it and missed,
but its owner fell too, with a thud
and a gasp and a flat chime of
metal on stone. I leaped up to stum
ble once more over the thing that
first had tripped me. I fell again,
this time upon it. An angle smote
me in the midriff, driving out my
breath. I heard the quick sound of
retreating feet. I saw, as I got to
my knees, the outer door open and
a dim figure that fled. Then I squat
ted, blinking in a blaze of light.
CHAPTER VII
I could see nothing but that glare.
It hurt my eyes. I knew dimly that
my knees and my trampled hand
ached. I squatted, half up, half
down, for a long instant. The daz
zling haze thinned and Higgins’ red
face came through.
“What,” he asked and I thought he
gloated, “is all this, hey?”
“I fell. 1 was tripped,” I said
stupidly.
Higgins chuckled.
“So ye was tripped,” he jeered.
“Now ain’t that too bad? The some
one that tripped ye lays beside ye,
me lad.”
I looked down. The obstacle over
which I had twice fallen was my
own suitcase. Higgins, in a last
flare of spite, had left it in the hall.
I got up slowly and brushed dust
from my sore knees.
“Who else,” I asked, “was in
here?” The superintendent chuck
led and anger helped me get hold of
myself.
“Who else?” he echoed. “Nobody,
ye fool, but yourself and your clum
sy feet.”
Higgins locked the door behind
me. I stumbled up the steps.
The wind stung my face. Its blast
seemed to scatter my mind. Some
one had been in that basement hall
way when I had entered—someone
who feared to be found there, who
had fought off my clumsy effort at
capture. I had touched, I had heard
the intruder. He had left his heel-
mark on a bleeding knuckle. Sus
picion that had pointed first to Lyon
Ferriter, that had centered on Gros
venor Paget, swung wildly about
now like a weathervane in a whirl
wind. I had left both men upstaire.
The dim figure I had seen dart
through the doorway had seemed
slighter than either. It could not
have been the buxom Everett. Why
had it been lurking in a basement
hallway of all places? What hud
dropped to the floor with a clink
of metal and then had vanished?
Suddenly, I wanted to confide in
someone. It was the lonely wretch
edness of the overburdened. I
thought, as I slapped at my dusty
overcoat and trousers, of Shannon,
of Miss Agatha, of Allegra, and each
time found at once good reason why
I could not go to them. As I picked
up my suitcase, an amused voice
asked behind me:
“Ever try a whiskbroom, accom
plice? You can buy them at all the
better stores.”
Jerry Cochrane’s coat collar was
turned up about his ears. His round
face had been spanked red by cold
and wind had watered his canny
eyes. He was sane flesh and blood.
I was glad to see him.
“What’s this?” he asked, nodding
at my suitcase. “The body?”
He was medicine for the jitters.
At my question he gave a ges
ture, half shrug, half shiver.
“I trailed Lyon Ferriter from the
Babylon,” he said. “Your hall force
wouldn’t let me wait in the vesti
bule. I was across the street when
I saw you go down the cellar. So
when you came out, I—”
I grabbed his arm so hard that
he stopped and stared. I had trouble
getting hold of words.
“Who came out ahead of you?” ha
repeated, wide-eyed. “Out of the
cellar? Nobody.”
“I groaned. “If you’d only
watched,” I began, but he cut me
short.
“Listen,” he bade. “I didn’t have
anything else to do, except freeze.
No one came out of the basement
except you. What’s all the heat—”
“Save it,” I told him and ran to
ward the Morello. My suitcase bat
tered my legs. I swore at it and
myself. If Cochrane were not mis
taken, if the intruder who fled had
not gone up to the street, he had
lurked in the area by the stairs un
til after I had left. He might still
be hiding in that black pit.
Beyond the Morello, a taxi swung
into the curb. Someone entered it.
The door slammed and it slid away
We were too far off to see the li
cense number or even the passenger
clearly.
“Sometime,” Cochrane asked po
litely, “when you’re not quite so ac
tive, you’ll let me in on this?”
I told him, as well as I could, for
I was winded, what had happened.
“Who was it?” Cochrane queried.
“I think,” I answered, “it was
Mr. Addison Sims of Seattle.”
The wind boomed in the area
while we talked in hushed voices. It
struck my sweating face like the
gush of a cold shower bath. Coch
rane was panting, yet he shivered.
“Lyon?” he asked. I wondered
why it should have been his first
thought, as well as mine.
“Lyon Ferriter,” I answered, “is
upstairs in Mias Paget’s apart
ment. He couldn’t have got down
here ahead of me.”
“Unless he took the hidden way
the murderer traveled,” Cochrane
pointed out stubbornly, and his teeth
chattered. “I’d like to know where
he is, this minute.”
I turned toward the steps and
said:
“I can go back and find out if
he’s still upstairs.”
“I’d like to know,” Cochrane re
peated in a cold-shaken voice, as
he followed me upward. “If I’m
going to live to understand all
I’ve got to get a taxi and a drink
fast. Find out if Ferriter is still
upstairs and then—”
But we had no need for search.
As I came out of the area, a lean
figure left the Morello vestibule.
Shoulders hunched against the wind,
Lyon Ferriter strode past us. I
thought he recognized me, for he
looked hard and seemed about to
check his pace and then pressed on.
We watched him to the corner.
“Anyone,” Cochrane gasped
through his rattling teeth, “who can
go without an overcoat on a night
like this is a murderer or a sui
cide. Hi, taxi!”
As we bounced along toward the
address he gave, his questions prod
ded me once again through the story
of my struggle in the basement.
“It doesn’t make sense,” he com
plained. “Maybe it was someone
colder than me, even—some Forgot
ten Man ducking in out of the wind.”
“He wasn’t too numb to move
fast,” I reminded him. “And why
should he hang out in the area after
I’d flushed him, unless there still
was something in the basement
that he needed?”
“True,” Cochrane said. “Perhaps
he wanted to get his watch, or what
ever you heard drop.”
“I heard it drop,” I told him, “but
it wasn’t there. I looked.”
“It was, but it wasn’t,” he said
bitterly. “And there you have the
case in a few words, accomplice.
I’m sorry we hired you. You keep
messing up the puzzle. I owe you
one, though, for your tip on the
Babylon. I don’t know who was
sorer—Shannon or the Ferriters
when I ran ’em down.”
(TO BE COMTUWED)
Broadway Bystander
The Front Pages: Editorials ex
pressed horror over the Hun atroci
ties in Poland, where the aim is to
exterminate the people. Some of
the same pages called Robert E.
Sherwood “war-monger” when he
pitied Poland in “There Shall Be
No Night” . . . The U. S. corre
spondents got lippy to the British
censors. Raymond Daniell called
them more damaging to. the Eng
lish cause than bombs. Qrew Mid
dleton departed from the AP’s “im
personal” policy long enough to reg
ister his sassy say-so . . . The blast
got results . . . Eugene Lyons ex
plains why so many youngsters are
covering the war fronts: Wages. The
famous ones are cashing in via ra
dio, lectures, etc. “That is how it
happens,” says Lyons in “Eye Wit
ness” (news story anthology), “that
there are more distinguished for
eign correspondents at a luncheon
of the Overseas Press club than in
the world beyond, even when world
shaking events are taking place”
. . . The Post’s Jack Miley rates
picking All - American footballers
second to cutting out paper dolls.
“Putting players the experts have
never seen on teams that don’t ex
ist,” he calls it ... It looks like
Virginio Gayda, who yells Musso
lini’s editorial “boos,” hasn’t got
many Greek readers.
Typewriter Ribbons: Anon’s:
Fame is the refreshment that comes
when wiping off the perspiration of
a career’s hard work . . . H. Hersh
field’s: The streets would be safer
for pedestrians and motorists if all
the cars that aren’t paid for were
removed . . . The Thomaston (Ga.)
Times’: It is rare that the gift is
worth the obligation it involves . . .
Wilson Mizner’s: I respect faith—
but doubt is what gets you an edu
cation . . . Jack Tarver’s: A dollar
down-and-your-eyetooth-a-week au
tomobile . . . L. A. Seaman’s: The
palms waved their limber fronds
foolishly like an awkward chorus at
the prima donna’s cue to enter.
The Insult Terrible: Erika and
Klaus Mann, daughter and son of
Thomas Mann (exiled by Hitler),
are introducing Hitler’s nephew
around town. He has written a book
about Adolf and is going to lecture
in Canada. He is English born
and despises his kinsman, whose
name he uses.
’Tennyrate, nephew Hitler was
first introduced at Dagmar Godow
sky’s, where lisa Bois found it dif
ficult to speak to anybody connected
with Hitler. Ilsa is a refugee ac
tress from Germany, and her broth
er Curt is now in “Bitter Sweet,''
the film.
She was telling friends about
meeting Hitler’s relative. “I want
ed,” she said, “to make the young
man do something—just for me.
Something with the idea of humbling
him!”
“What did you make him do?”
“I asked him to pass me the her
ring!”
Words And Music: Lion Feucht
wanger has a sensayuma, although
Louis Nizer’s book, “Thinking on
Your Feet,” a best-seller, offers the
same nifty. Feuchtwanger, they
would have you believe, went to see
Disney’s “Fantasia,” which has
powerful orchestral tones. The mu
sic occasionally overpowered him.
He told intimates about it. “Evi
dently,” he said, “Stokowski be
lieves that ‘life begins at forte.’ ”
When his pals groaned at the
broad pun, Feuchtwanger sighed
disconsolately, “Oh, well. I guess
nobody loves a fact man.”
Form of Criticism: Prof. Nathan,
of the N. Y. Drama Critics’ Circle,
met a playwright at the Algonquin
hotel, a chap whose manuscript Na
than had promised to look over in
stead of overlook. The Regal One
shook his head after reading three
pages.
“You don’t like it,” sighed the
writer sadly, “what do you think it
needs?”
“First of all,” Nathan replied,
“I’d - suggest perfume.”
Woof-woof! Bob Benchley of the
feelms was visiting a Hollywood dog
and cat hospital in search of a
pooch. A pal of his trying frantical
ly to locate Benchley (to deliver a
message) learned where he was and
rushed there. Approaching the girl
at the desk, he asked: “Is Bob
Benchley of Metro here?”
“Is he an airedale,” was the re
tort, “or spitz?”
In Other Words: The headlines
stated: “Italian Resistance Stiffen
ing!” And A1 H. observed: “That
probably is Italian for rigor mor
tis.”
Oop! At the Maison Louis a well
known radio singer button-holed an
NBC executive and cooed; “Did you
hear me do ‘Blueberry Hill’ last
night?”
“Yea,” was the answer. “You
sounded as though it were too steep
for you.”
Guy Lombardo’s line on an Amer
ican Christmas: “When you hang
up your stocking, also be thankful
for the country in which you hang
up your hat.”
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QUESTIONS yf •
Ammonia and water will remove
red ink stains from white cloth.
• • *
Pumpkin pies will have that rich
brown tint if a tablespoon of mo
lasses is added to the filling.
• • •
Potatoes to be baked in the skins
Will cook quicker if they are dried
before being placed in the oven.
♦ ♦ *
One pound of powdered or con
fectioner’s sugar is equivalent to
2Vz cupfuls; one pound of granu
lated sugar equals two cupfuls.
* • *
Layer cakes with soft fillings will
not become soggy if a thin icing
made with confectioner’s sugar ia
put on and let harden, before
spreading the filling.
• • *
Use needles to pin down the
pleats when pressing a pleated
skirt. The needles will leave no
marks when you remove them.
* * *
Airtight boxes or jars make
handy containers for keeping
cookies fresh. And waxed paper
between the layers of cookies
keeps them from sticking together.
• * *
Before squeezing the juice from
your lemons and oranges, grate the
peel. Wrapped in waxed paper
these gratings will keep in the re
frigerator for future use in making
desserts, etc.
Valuable Rock Piles
In the West river in the Kwangsl
province of China, the current is
so strong that shoals of fish fre
quently have to rest on the lee
ward side of natural and artificial
piles of rocks in the middle of
the stream, where they are easily
caught in nets. Consequently,
these piles are very valuable to
fishermen, who buy and sell them
for as much as $5,000 in local
money.—Collier’s.
The Better Way to
Correct Constipation
One way to treat constipation is
to endure it first and “cure" it
afterward. The other way is to
avoid having it by getting at its
cause. So why not save yourself
those dull headachy das's, plus
the inevitable trips to the medi
cine chest, if you can do it by a
simple common-sense “ounce of
prevention”?
If your trouble, like that of
millions, is due to lack of “bulk”
in the diet, “the better way” is to
eat Kellogg’s All-Bran. This
crunchy, toasted, ready-to-eat
cereal has just the “bulk” you
need. If you eat it regularly- and
drink plenty of water—you can
not only get regular but keep
regular, day after day and month
after month! All-Bran is made
by Kellogg’s in Battle Creek. If
your condition is chronic, it is
to consult a physician.
By Thy Deeds
Such as thy words are, such will
thy affections be esteemed; and
such will thy deeds be as thy af
fections; and such thy life as thy
deeds. —Socrates.
laaaig
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