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/ READ THIS FIRST: I, Bill Strickland, am suspected by Coroner Silver in the murder of Alfred Markham, rich young jeweler who was my friend, in the garden of the Rio Vista club. Cap tain of Detectives Clyde Mc Donald, going over the scene of the death with me the next night, investigates the footprints of a man who had attacked me there shortly after Markham’s death. CHAPTER FIFTEEN “It’s a cinch the guy who at tacked you was trying to hide some thing,” said one of the detectives with Captain McDonald. What I can’t figure is, he came in a boat but the body was dragged away from the river.”. “Markham wasn’t kiUed beside the river,” I objected. “No. I mean, he was dragged from the rose arbor, where he was killed. Toward the clubhouse in stead of toward the river. Captain McDonald rolled his ever-present cigar from one side cf his mouth to the other. “Even if the killer came from the clubhouse there’s no reason why he would want to drag the body ^back the way he came, is there? No one answered his question. He started back toward the lily pond and began studying the ground there with his flashlight. “What do you hope to find?” I asked, coming up behind him. “I was thinking that the mur derer was going somewhere with that body. He dropped it. That means he was interrupted—prob aby by Mr. Montcalm coming out the door. He must have ducked somewhere to hide. I'm looking for his tracks at the side of the path, but so many people have walked around here I guess it’s hopeless. There aren’t any tracks of hob nailed shoes, and I could have sworn there weren’t any here last night, either. It's hard to tell with out good lights. This place ought to have electric lights. How is it lighted, anyway?” 1 UlUUgii.b UiCAC USCU LU UC ct string of electric globes overhead,” said the detective named Sullivan. The captain called to the man on guard at the boat landing. “Oh, Charlie, ever been past here on the river boat at night? Ever see any lights in this garden?” Charlie yelled back, “Sure, there’s a string of lights on a wire clear across the court. Must be right near your head.” The captain waved the beam of his flashlight skyward. “That’s funny. There sure isn’t any wire here now, or any lights, either.” The beam of light swung around to the wall of the south wing of the clubhouse. 'But there’s something interesting!” A moment later he was standing next to the wall, fingering a short wire that dangled from an iron staple at the height of the second story windows. 'Somebody pulled the wire down. This is the end of it.” He glanced toward the north wing, throwing his light that way. “And it passed pretty close over the spot where Markham was killed. See the other end over by that window across the way. I wonder if the wire could have been pulled down last night ... if it could have had any connection with the murder—” “I—I couldn’t say,” I stammer ed. “It—it sounds fantastic.” “You never can tell,” the cap tain persisted. “This may be im portant. I’m going to get in touch with some of the servants and find out if this happened during the party. I don’t see the wire lying around anywhere.” We searched the ground for sev eral minutes with flashlights, but there was no wire. Then he went indoors to the telephone. He located the number he want ed. “Hello,” he said after a pause. “Is this Tony Pappini? Do you know anything about the electric light wire across the court back of th' clubhouse? . .. It’s broken! . . . No, it’s broken! . . . No, I don’t want to fix it. I want to know who broke it. . . . Well, then, when did you see it last? Were the lights turned on last night? . . . No? . . . Oh, you turned them off when the moon came up? . . . What time was that? ... I see! . . ■ Who told you to turn therr. off? . . . Who? . . . Mr. St. Clair? . . . Where is the switch? . . • Thank you, Tony.” He hung up the telephone in serted the cigar in one side of his face and said grimly, “Just as I told you, Strickland! That wire was pulled down about the time Markham was killed. There's some connection. Tony said the lights were burning at 10 o’clock when the moon came up over the top of the building and he shut them off. The switch is in the hallway next to the kitchen door. Let’s take a look at it.” We found the box on the wall, about 10 feet from the glass doors that led out into the court. There were dirty fingerprints all over it. The captain whistled. “Here’s a job for you, Sullivan. Get photo graphs of all these. See if they match the prints we found on the croquet mallet.” “On the croquet mallet?” I ask ed. startled. “Yes. we found a broken croquet mallet in the rose arbor where the killing took place. If the prints are alike we can be sure it’s an inside job.” "Not necessarily,” I objected. "Tony switched off the lights. Your killer didn’t have to go near the switch.” “H’m. I guess you’re right at that.” He mused a moment, chew ing thoughtfully. Then. “But if this was a carefully thought-out plan, as I think it was, that electric wire was used, and the killer knew it was going to be used. If Tony hadn’t pulled the switch—luckily or maybe by order from the ki>.'r himself—the killer would have had to come into the hall and pull it himself. If he could come into the hall without attracting attention, he must be known here at the club. He must be someone who can turn on or shut off lights, without any one paying much attention to him. I've already decided as much, be cause he struck Markham from in front. He was not a stranger.” "You may be right.” I agreed. although I was sure he was wrong in some respects. “It looks all the more like I’m guilty, doesn’t it?’’ He shook his head. “No, no, Strickland. I’m not trying to drag you into it again. You were up stairs. Several witnesses proved it. You couldn’t have come down the light well to the garden, because Tony and the servant girl were sit ting in the kitchen then and would have seen you. our alibi isn’t broken. Don’t worry about what Coroner Silver may think He’s young — hasn’t had much experi ence yet.” “How about a motive?” I in quired. “Why was he killed? If there seems to be no reason for his death, couldn’t he have just en countered some river rat, like I did?” “Do you think we ought to blame it on some river rat and forget it?” “That looks like your best bet,” I told him. “You haven’t even es tablished a motive—and I thought that was always the first thing the police have to do.” “Why do you keep saying we don’t know the motive? Why do you think there wasn’t any?” “Why, I—I didn’t think there was one,” I said in confusion. “You haven’t said—” “We don’t go around telling everything we have discovered. As a matter of fact, the newspapers already have mentioned one motive. We tried to keep it quiet, but it’s out now. You forget, maybe that Markham was a jeweler. He had jewels on him.” I gasped in surprise. “Jewels!” “Yes.” He nodded. “Diamonds.” As we drew near the door again he wore a half grin, amused by my consternation. “You will discover more about it at the inquest tomor row. The motive may have been robbery.” “But, if he had jewels on him, the robber didn’t get them. How could it have been robbery? It isn’t logical.” “Nothing is logical. Frankly, Strickland, the case is a hash.” (to Be Continued The new Consolidated XB-24, now undergoing flight tests, has “a speed over 300 miles an hour, a range of approximately 3000 miles, and bomb carrying capacity of approximately four tons.” In addition, the plane has a tail tur ret. n.-——-m THIS CURIOUS WORLD i --■ 76c. DEAD SEA CONTAINS ENOU6H SALT TO SUPP1V THE WORLD FOR. 2.,ooa VEARS. , COPR. 1940 BY NEA SERVICE, INC. T. M. REG. U. S. PAT. OFF. 7) , THE CORE OR THE EARTH IS THOU6HT TO BE: ((A) AN IRON - NICKEL. /ALLOY, (B) HOLLOW Q XC) SOLID ORANITE / — — — — - ^ ^ ■ .4IO-<3AU<=>E. GUNS , ARE Mf5MA/\A/=D/ ACTUALLY THEY ARE .4fO-CTAA/^£>R.... MOT GAUGE. ANSWER: Tests seem to indicate that the core of the earth Is an iron-nickel alloy. bejIja. —cuum KtruKit/K By l. Allen Heine s. Founded on Actual Court Records and You Can Be the Judge \( Tfce ' Strange \ Case of M MAN WITH THE mm Im i ! Nt.4 wmCEVEMGE rti WSHEART.. DHtfC JOROA* PREPARES To'TlY." THE MOTOR COMPANY THAT SOED HIM THE YELLOW CAR WHICH .. HE CLAIMS..HAS A DEFECTIVE STEERH*G UNff! SeeNE„GARAGE AT JORPAN'S HOME f (GREAT SCOTT, POKE ! WHAT'CHA V-j—I DOIN' TO THE YELLOW PERIL ? —1 (T bodies iuxe a^ 1 pfi&fyoei wmy E TH€ kCMONS? ! ^STJSMi m 1 • 6UT..I STICL <'T GET »T.‘ urn ' ■'1 1 "Mtidfe | *WST WAIT* ■ I 9C€* J| ■man OUT OUR WAY By J. R. Williams ... . . . , . If WELL, I GUESS I GOT I ENOUGH MONEY SAVED |5 NOW PER A -DOWN ,, ■fk PAYMENT ON THAT \ ( RADIO I BEEN J WANTIN' FER. MY \ \ ROOM —LESSEE- I V THREE-FOUR," ) \ FIVE— \ ( JUST A MINUTE / WHEN YOU ^ / ARE ABLE TO LAY DOWN SPOT J CASH FOR. THAT RADIO, YOU ) CAS) BUY IT--AND NOT BEFORE! f YOU BOUGHT A CAMERA ON "TEN EASY PAYMENTS" AND I’VE JUST FINISHED PAYING \ THE COLLECTOR FOR THE \ FOURTH TIME IN AROW AND NOT ONE WAS EASY/ } FROM NOW ON IT'S J CASH AND CARRY J FOR YOU.' AJHY MOTHERS SET GRAY **»»“'»“& OUR BOARDING HOUSE . . with . . . 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HE'S READY M TO TALK ALREADY? m HM-M—TYPICAL, I GUESS I HI6 KIND COULD DISH lx II OUT—BUT TAKE IT? & THAT’S DIFFERENT y^BRINQ HIM IN - WASH TUBBS Bull Dawson, Himself By Roy Crane f WASH? NO. I AIN' NJfc SEE HEEM, SQUINT- 111 EVE, ANO I DON' KNOW W ANYBODY NAME'SOUTHERN. I BUT YOU BE CAREFUL I FU PAT BULL PAWSON, H YOU YA'R? HE LIUlW M HEAH IN PE BEEG V HOUSE >1 HE BAD,EAS>y. HE WUS’N EVER. you member all pat trouble you HA' W1D HEEM POWU -- HEAH BEFO’... AN' ■/ I KNOW, ^ BULL AIN'ONE TO ( JACKIE. I'VE HAD -7 FORGET t—A TROUBLE WITH ^-- --\ HIM -SINCE, S _ \ TOO J - -* r-"" SO! YOU VOOBBLE-KMEED SOFTIE, 1 | | WOT IU THUWDER you Doin'here? ; I 1 GASOLINE ALLEY; Easy & I COPCEOOS, SKEBZDi ! ITS A HONS'/. y I W~ / BUT VOU SHOULD / HAVE TAKEN ME ALONG. V TOUR WIDE BRIMMED TAPERED ) HAT IS GOOD, BUT I'D HAVE I GOT IT IN GREEN. 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Wilmington Morning Star (Wilmington, N.C.)
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May 16, 1940, edition 1
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