Evening Star Newspaper, March 28, 1926, Page 84

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, MARCH 28, Nothing Ever Happens in Town ERRY TINKER balanced him- | gan making notes with the stub of a | chief and patted his forehead. self skillfully on one glistening | foot, slid the other into the ap- propriate leg of his flawless evening trousers, and pulled up. | He felt the Leel catch, and a sickening sound as of broadcloth ripping smote With trembling hands he spread the suspectea pantaloons out on the bed and surveyed the damage. It was worse than he had feared. Back of ihe knee there was a reotangular tear a hole he could have put his fist through. Jerry Tinker sank weakly to the bed beside the trousers. He gulped three times in rapid succession. He stated aloud that he would be some- hing he could not possibly have been. He got up and rolled the trousers a ball and flung them to the floor vith all his might. He yanked the | telephone from the table and howled a number at the blandly nasal operator The tailor did not answer. Jerry found another in the telephone book and celled him, but with the same lack of ess. He slapped the re- | ceiver and lighted a cigarette. | Ho pa up and down the .room | through the clouds of smoke that | came from his mouth and nose. He | went into the bedroom, untangled the irousers and examined the hole again. | It was just as big as ever. He | hurled the garment from him and | stalked back to the telephone. This time he got results. “Chick,” he said in a voice hoarse with emotion, “I've ripped my dress trousers. “Who is this? at the other end. “Jerry. Chic vour trousers”’ “What do two pair ympathetic. Dress trousers, decent ones I had. yours?"” “I will not. T've got 'em on.” )h, come on. Be a good egg:’ voice cracked with the strain. Where do you get that stuff? Do suppose 1 put 'em on for exer I'm stepping out.” But this is importar to dinner at the Gordon looked over by the big test inquired the voice can you let me have | vou mean? of ‘em? Haven't you Chick was | Chick. The only Will you lend me | I'm going . I'm getting the parents. This is Be a good egg! Let me have ‘em. Just for tonight “Let you have 'em? Do you think | I'd look any better than you at dinner In the undies? I tell you mine are | occupied.” “But vou can get out of it. This dinner I'm going to is the most im portant dinner in the world:” Harsh | laughter came over the wire. “Run_into the dining room quick and pull the tablecloth und you. | Nobody'll ever notice. Good-bye.” | Chick was gone. | Terry worked the hook up and down | and called another number, then an- other and another. ed that Jerry had an pair of legs and that to 1 be to hide his bushel. Harvey Fulton was of the opinion that a man’s in-law-to-be would be put z a little well-chosen informality “rask and Vincent Higgins had fanci- ful remarks for him, but no trousers. * - JINALLY persistence was rewarded Dud Perry was laid up with a | twisted knee and would part with his dress trousers for the evening. Dud | Perry was three or four inches shorter than Jerry and considerably buigier | about the middle. but this was no time for choosiness. It was 6:50 and dinner was to be at 7:15 in Eleventh street. | Jerry would ve accepted the trousers of a circus midget. It took perhaps two minutes to get his street clothes on over his dr shirt. Another two to find a taxi.| Seven more to get to the hotel in Forty-fifth street in which his friend lay hors de combat. It was 7:01 when Jerry Tinker burst into Dud Perry’s | room and 7:07 when he left wearing | Dud_ Perry’s evening clothes—in as | much haste as their fit permited. Tt | was 7:11 when he caught a taxi at the | corner of Fifth avenue and got in, | urging the driver to go with all possi- ble speed . . . Between Forty-fifth street and the Public Lib permit me to explain about Jer) two engagements, one for dinner that June evening and the other to be married at some later time. Jerry had known Phyllis Gordon through late March, April and M. which in {tself was dangerous. Ph: vas small and dark and smooth to the eve and touch, which was much more dangerous. Jerry had asked Phyllis 10 marry him and Phyilis had referred him to her father, largely as a matter of curlosity. Her father had invited Jerry to dinner to meet Mrs. ordon. Add to that the facts ihat Phyllis’ her was notorious in upper legal strata for being an Old Crab; that he always insisted on beginning dinner on | time, whether the guests had arrived | not; that he believed the first at- ribute of a worthwhile voung man 10 be Punctuality: and that Phyllis | had mentioned all of these facts more | or less pointedly to Jerry—and you | have all the background you need. | Now go on with the story | * % % X | S the taxi crossed Forty-second street Jerry observed that the trafic tower clock showed 7:13. He | opened the little window and howled | for more speed. He entioned double 7 fares and enormous tips as honuses or celerity. He was eloquent in his | And effective. The driver was so in-| trigued that he forgot everything but | (he necessity of covering blocks per minute. The policeman at Forty-| first street held up his hand, and | Terry’s taxi passed him by without | so much as a bow of recognition. | The policeman blew a series of short <harp notes on his whistle. The taxi| iriver looked back over his shoulder | with terror-stricken eves. The police- | man waved a penal hand toward the | curb and moved his lips in fortunately 1dible words. | Jerry Tinker swore fervently. He | called the driver every name that came to his tongue and then sat back, srieved at the inadequacy of the ianguage. From midavenue the of- ficer surveyed the taxl with utter <corn while the lights changed fvom ved to green and the north-and-south | traffic started again. Then he swag- red over in a leisurely fashion and iddressed the driver. Who told you vou could drive a taxi?” he inquired by way of opening the discussion. The taxi man pulled his head in like a turtle and said nothing. “Come on,” said the cop. “Let’s see your licens The ta man cringed slowly from his seat to the sidewalk and began fumbling in lis pocket ry ‘Tinker got out ouched the policeman. It was my fault, officer,” he began soothingly “T didn’t ask for no remarks from vou,” said the policeman. “But—but—I'm in a terrible hur- il wear | light | and ap- ry; ‘The policeman deigned to turn to him. “Lay off,” he said simply. He turned back to the driver. “Where's vour license?” The taxi man continned to fumble from pocket ) he policennn produced ‘g Sl lablet oL | what all the row was about. | came. | Here was a bold stroke, | Thirty-seventh Taxicabs, Trousers, Traffic Officers and a Burglar. pencil. Jerry pictured the Gordons bending to work on their soup in Eleventh street. = % k ok T became 7:21 by Jerry Tinker's watch. The soup plates were being tipped by this time, if the Gordoms went in for that sort of thing. Mr. and Mrs. Gordon were undoubtedly directing dirty looks at Phyllis. They would soon be making comments about unpunctuality. This was no time for halfway measures. liceman’s back was turned. He was glving the taxi driver a few help:nl hints. “. . . why they let you guys loose on the streets, T don't——" Jerry over heard. Jerry considered only an instant. He sauntered to the taxi at the curb, put his foot on the running board and leaned in, as if making a casual | inspection of the equipment on the dash. He glanced over his shoulder and found the officer still engaged in talk. Very qulietly he slipped Into the driver's seat. He stepped on the right things and threw the gear-shift lever the right way. With a ferk and a rush and a roar, the taxi was off, hurtling down the avenue. In three screams and a jump it was at Fortieth street. And something had to be done. The north-and-south traffic was held up again. The policeman in front of the library had recovered his senses and was blowing his whistie into a_howl of outraged authority. His collegue at Fortieth was trying to discover He was still unable to understand when Jerry's cab turned east into Fortleth street on one front wheel. At the corner of Park avenue he turned south and sped on by the mysterious mercy of providence. He groped for a plan of action, but none was: “You fool! You fool! you do 1t?" As he came to Thirty-eighth, Why did the tumult in the rear grew audible again. | He tried for better speed, but the taxi failed to respond. He must do something else. And do it quick- He had just passed Thirty-seventh street. He yanked the car to the sidewalk and jammed on the brakes. worthy_of He set his his tie and He stepped the favor of the gods. jauntily, stralghtened brushed off his trousers. |10 the sidewalk and walked uptown. | His gait was that of a young gentle- | man on his way to dinner in the neighborhood—an athletic young man | who scorned the use of motor vehicles. | He turned his head and looked back, | indicating mild interest in the taxi which had drawn up at the curb so suddenly. The pursuit was half a block north, coming like the fire department, only more so. Je swung left into street. 1lis manner was still jaunty, leisurety. * x % YOUNG woman burst from the front door of a house not 50 feet ahead of him. She reached the mid- dle of the sidewalk, NN AR wrung her hands. she spotted Jerry. She ran to him. At the risk of seeming rude, he continued to walk, turning his head to her as she plucked at his sleeve and came along beside Suddenly she said, Jerry “Help?” he asked. She caught his arm in both her hands. “There is.a burglar in my house: she burst out. “You must help me. 1 don’t know where to find a police man.” Jerry Tinker stopped in his tracks and looked down at this girl He knew where she could find a num- ber of policemen, but it seemed inex- pedient to tell her. Salvation was in sight. A burglar in her house. Jerry made up his mind. “A burglar?” he said. “In your house? You have come to the right man. I'll handle him for you. Come!” The front door was wide open, as she had left it when she came out. He steered her into the vestibule, closed the door behind them. Just before it closed he thought he heard the sound of the bloodhounds on the scent. . . . faintly. “Merely indicate where the burgvlvar‘ is,” he said. “Just show me. . . . He closed the blessedly curtained inside door behind him and \vilrltfnl g1 it. His veice gava w i The po- | All his mind would tell him | hat | stopped there, | He treated himseif to several good, deep breaths. The girl was standing against the wall staring at him. Her lips were trembling. Her hands were knotted into little fists with frightened white knuckles. Jerry noted that her hair was blonde and curly. He would have preferred it dark, but he admitted it was attractive as it was. Her nose might have been just a shade smaller, he thought, but there again he was willing to yield a point. She was pretty. She took a step toward him. Her hands opened in suppliance. At last she became articulate. “The—the burglar—— gested. Jerry Tinker jumped. He nearly | dropped his hat. He caught his under lip between his thumb and forefinger in an attitude of thought. “Oh, ves,” he said; “the burglar. There is a burglar, isn't there?" The girl came a step closer. “You—you id that you'd handle she sug- Yes. so I did. Well, well-— burglar.” Jerry scratched the back of his neck with one finger. *You | ah—you didn’t happen to noticd—ah you didn't notice his size? I mean, | that is, is he a large burglar? Say' Jerry held out a hand about seven feet from the floor—"say—that high. | Or perhaps a little smaller? | 7 “I didn’t see him.” she satd I only heard him. Tie rattled the silver in my boudoir— " Jerry rubbed his hands. “1 see,” he said, like a doctor listen- | ing to symptoms. “In your boudoi eh? No place for him—in your bou- | doir! The idea! | He looked indignant. | was not to be put off. “Hadn't you better—handle him?' she inquired. Her voice was soft and trusting. Jerry felt taller and bet- ter looking. “Of course,” he said. “I was thinking he might get Va id the girl. cas 1, safd Jerry. “I mean— it would be rotten to let him get away, wouldn't it? After his rat- tling the silver in your bouadoir, I mean, and everything.” He gave her what he considered a strong, comforting smile. | “It's up two flights.” | The girl clung to her idea. Jerry took his hat and laid it carefully on a | chair. He removed his light” outer | coat and dusted his hands. “Would you care to come with me?" | he asked. “Up—up to the boudotr?” | She seemed to lack enthusiasm. “I mean,” sald Jerry, “it would be a shame for me to—ah—blunder into the wrong room and miss him.” He tapped the tips of his fingers to- | gether. The girl contracted her fists |again. | “I'll g0 up to the drawing room with u,” she said. “The boudoir is at the top of the stairs on the third floor. We'd better go quletly.” She led the way | tintoeing. Jerry ‘walked close behind | ner, not tiptoeing at all. He kicked | the back of the stairs. He coughed convulsively. / ———— AL But the girl Perhaps the burglar was deaf. They reached the top and girl walked nolselessly | hanl, Jerry following. the door of the drawi and pointed up the s at the top. “That's it,” she whispered. She stepped into the drawingroom and | closed the door behind her. Alone in the hall, Jerry looked at | the blank white panels of the door and thought, There were the stairs he has just come up. The street was at the bottom of them. Not two miles south was the residence of the Gordons—who must have ar- rived at the meat by this time. His bride-to-be was waiting for him. His prospective parents-in-law were wait- ing for him. That way lay peace and health and all that sort of thing. | A little snooting, perhaps, but per- fectly safe. This way was the route 1 to a hospital or to a mortuary parlor. In_Dud Perry's evening clothes. He wished the girl would come out and look at him that way again —with those trusting blue eyes above | that trembling mouth. The door behind him opened softly. He turned to meet the eyes of the girl he must champion. They were I trusting eyes. “\Which. door? the along the She reached 'oom, turned irs to a dcor he ored. wh legal lvius and be- PrywUced d vdvgialued silk dupdaers doudly cnough, he beped, i flwh | himself | eves closed. | been a tough burglar. | himself up on his shak: I comfortably to the roof. She pointed again at the door at the top of the stalrs. He marched up. “Who's there?” Jerry said, at least an octave lower than he had ever heard himself before. There was not a sound. The burglar had heard his g’u‘;‘lnlnn. he supposed, and gone. till, been a little brighter. “Who's there?”” he asked again, although he did not really expect the burglar, it any, to make his presence known. The silence was thick and throb- bing. Jerry Tinker stepped into an al- most pitch-black room. He ciw his shadow moving enormously before him. He caught sight of looming, shapeless masses in the gloom about him. He took two more steps for- ward and tried to locate a light of some sort, The burglar landed on his back with a mighty grunt. Jerry just missed dropping dead and fooling the burglar completely. His nerves tingled with the shock. But that Jasted only a fraction of a second. The burglar had made a tactical error. He had given up the ad- vantage he had held when he was lurking mysteriously in the shadows. Had he groaned dismally and rattled a chain or two, the victory would have been his without a conflict. As it was, he became reassuringly definite; warm and heavy. He traded a thousand dollars’ worth of eeriness for a nickel'’s worth of temporary physical advantage. He had no proper understanding of the psycho- logical side of his business. Jerry found himself in a perfectly plain fight with a man who grunted. He went at {t with rather consider- able rellef. He swung himself round sharply to fling the load from his back. The burglar clung. Jerry lost his balance and the two crashed into something which had been covered with a good many glass things up to that time. * ok kX 'HAT was the first minute of the battle, which ended in a draw when they rolled into a chalse longue and Jerry hit his head and stunned momentarily. The burglar scrambled to his feet, paused only for a parting kick, and fled to the back | of the house and down some uncar- peted stairs, which resounded with his unhesitating footsteps. Jerry lay for a minute with his He was tired. It had hostess open the door of the drawing room on the floor below. v legs and sat down unexpectedly on the chaise longue which had plaved him the nasty trick. His head was swimming a little, but he bethought him of the damsel on whose behalf he had ridden forth to battle. “He's gone, hollow voice. he called to her in a He heard no more up the first flight. | sounds from below. “He's gone,” he said again. Then he noticed that the girl was standing in the doorway. She came into the room and switched on the lights. She WITH A JERK AND A RUSH AND. A ROAR THE TAXI WAS OFF, HURTLING DOWN THE AVENUE. looked at him and at the room, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh!” she gasped. He organized a | ) smile and flashed it at her. “A little mussed?” he asked. “Are—are you all right?" He stretched out his arms and bent his legs. “I guess 60.” But her fears continued. She walked to his side and stood staring at him. He got to his feet and found himself stronger. ‘“Perfectly all right,” he said. Then he caught sight of himself in a cheval glass opposite and sat down again. “I am rather a mess.” “You're quite sure—-2" solicitous. “Oh, quite. Quite. T just saw myself in the glass.” “I mean that you're all right.” “Oh, yes. Much better than I look.” “I'm 80 sorry.” “Not at all. The pleasure is all mine. A very fine burglar. Distinctly high,type. Quite Marquis de Queens- berry. Nice boy. Been a great privi- lege to meet him—-"" She was “Would you like some whisky?” she | interrupted. A peaceful, natural smile spread itself over Jerry's face. He licked his lips. She went into the next room and returned with a bottle and a glass. “Only one glass?” he asked. “You did the fighting.” “But you were under just as great a strai #'My husband wouldn't like —"" J“Your hushand!" Yes, Why he wished the hall light had | He heard his | He pulled | | “This husband of yours,' he in | quired. “Where is he? Why wasn't he here to take this matter up with the burglar?” She bit her lip. | ‘“He's—he’'s angry with me,” she said. “I had a man in for tea yes terday, and he came home and found out. He was very angry. le is dread- Jealous."” And rightly. Jerry. “But he's o unreasonable. The |man was a friend of my brother’s. I've known him for yvears.” “One's beautiful wife does not ente tain her brother's friends at t Jerry remarked, sagely. “It isn't done. There have been plays about that sort of thing.” She pouted, and he ad mired her for being able to pout so charmingly. “He's probably sitting in some club !drinking,” she said. “When he's hor- rid he drinks and when he drinks he's more horrid than ever."” Jerry was facing the glass again. He had discovered that his silk waist- coat—which was his own—was unin- jured. He was thinking of the Gor dons at thelr salad course. He was wondering how he could get to Eleventh street for dessert. Here he stood in the remains of had been | the last respectable evening clothes in | the_city. “How big a man is your husband?" | he asked. The girl inhaled sharply and made a little noise in her throa “Oh!" she gasped. “Oh, wouldn't!” Jerry's eyebrow's jumped inch. “Fighting with him?> Good heavens, T was justewondering about your Very properly,” said you up an ¥ , of course, that's it. You take Harry's clothes. If he had bean home on time, he would have had to fight the burglar, anyway. It's only right. Of course!” She rose and trotted into the next room. He could | hear her rummaging about. i R IHE took out his watch, brushed away particles of the Icr_\‘sml, and observed that it was 10 minutes before 8. He despaired of | the dessert, but held out high hopes {for a demitasse. He began trying | out a lie about having been called sud- | denly to the bedside of a dving rel |tive. An impoverished aunt, thought, would do very nicely. Yonkers or Tenafly or some such |place. Aunt Emily Local {color about time-tables came to his fertile mind. He saw the lle taking foom . . . The girl burst in with her arms full of clothes. “He's just about your size,” she panted. “Isn’t it lucky? Tt served him right too. I'm just glad you're | going to take his things. The idea of leaving me here alone with only the maids! And they locked themselves | right up in the kitchen as soon as I mentioned the burglar.” She threw the precious clothes on the chaise | longue. “The bath is through that door she said. “You'll find towels . She went out and closed the door behind her. Jerry Tinker burst activity. In not more than a minute and a half he had vanked himself out of Dud Perry's erstwhile clothing. Ie dashed to the bathroom, ran a basin full of cold water and plunged hi: whole head into it, came up splutte: ing, groping for a towel. He dried his face and found it, fortunately, un- harmed. He straightened his halr. In the absence of a brush he wrapped a towel about his hand and he flat- ned his locks into something re- | sembling their earlier smoothness { slithered his hands In soapsuds, ran {cold water on them, dried them. { another instant he was back in the boudoir, transferring studs from one he shirt to another with lightning fingers. | Progress was splendid. He felt tha he might miss the demi-tasse, but he | was reasonably sure of arriving in | | time to join the ladies. { He bhad the shirt on and fastened ' | and the tie smoothed into a neat bow. | He was just getting into the trousers | when a sound from below c: |ears. It was not a pleasant sound | not a sound that made for great nerv- | ous quiet or peace of mind. | Tt was the sound of the husband of | ‘he house, engaged, from the sugges. tions that filtered through the doo {in a correct imitation of a sea lion broken | | “WOULD YOU CARE TO COME WITH ME?” HE In/ into feverish | He | In! ame to his | | | | /) / SHE SE EMED TO LACK ENTHUSIASM With a leap and a yank Jerry Tinker had the trousers on. -| A jealous husband with a way of belng nastier than ever when he had been drinking! A husband about size and & half larger than Jerry, if his clothes were properly cut. A hus. band who was now engaged in giving a few preliminary howls of wrath be fore mounting the stairs to attend to his wife's clandestine visitor. Jerr: fingers fumbled at the suspenders. The door flew open. On the threshold, outlined against the soft light of the hall, stood the | master of the house. He was built much like Jerry Tinker, but a little larger in all directions. He must have been a few years older, for his hair was graying over the ears. His face was the red of Kipling's works in limp leather. It was contorted with emotions. le was swaying just no- J Tinker bowed civilly. The husband did not seem to be mollified by the gesture. He took a stride forward as a political speaker does when he arrives at his perora- tion. He folded his arms across his chest. Jerry wondered just how many clubs he had been drinking in, and what his wife had told him. “‘So!"” shouted the husband. appeared disconcertingly ners of his mouth. caught you “Not ‘vet,” sald Jerry, stretching out a hand accurately and capturing his accuser’s nicely tallored dress coat from the chaise longue. Vhat do you propose to do?" the Saliva at the cor- So! I have husband said, lowering his voice for | | emphasis, “1 propose to—ah—leave," Jerry, “almost immediately.” “Heh!" said the man violently, with a world of sarcasm for so brief a re- mark. He licked his lips. *You pro- pose to leave!” Jerry took advantage of the dramatic pause to get his arms into the w said said Jerry. “Must go, Late for dinner as it is. | Must positively be hurrying along, | Well- Jerry's voice suggested | nothing but the fondest of partings. | The other was licking his lips again. I have a good mind to shoot you," { he sald bitterly. “I have a good mind to shoot you in yo !like a dog.” Te took three or four steps to a table and pulled out the drawer. Jerry remembered the route burglar had taken Not in my tracks,” he said He ned and ducked into the bathroom, skidded across the tiled floor to the | door at the other end. Fortunately the back stalrs were there. They were pitch black. Jerry fell down the first few, then caught his bal- ance and ran down the others, mak- ing better time. * * DOOR presented itself fiung_himself through it | pantry. ~ Without altering his he slammed the door behind He crashed china closet and bounded from it to a swinz door that e before him. In the rear—on the dark stairs, he thought—he heard {an_indescribably loud explosion “Stop!” The husband's shout came, | somewhat muffied, from the pantry. Jerry found himself at the top of the stairs to the front door. He no sense in stopping. In perhaps a | fifth of a second he was at the bottom | of the stairs. He saw his hat and coat where he had left them, scooped them up as he passed He got into | the vestibule, through it. He was {on the cool’ sidewalk once more. | Somewhere inside he heard another | shot. Jerry Tin nd Jerry into a stride him looked about him. A | few feet away he saw a taxi, the | driver just climbing into it. His | desire for speed impelled him toward | it. His instinct told him that it was {a cab of ill omen. There was some | thing famfliar about it. . . . There could be no doubt of it: it was his borrowed taxi. . Jerry turned and ran toward Madison avenue I am so glad to say that the taxi | driver had been through a good deal that evening and that he was not as alert as he might have been. He was conscious of the fact that a man was running down the sidewalk. He noted that the man was carrying some of his clothes, that he {wore no coat and that his waist |coat was flying in the wind behind | him. But he did not connect the flee- ing figure with his brush with the law. !'His oaths, as he stepped on the were leisurely, philosoph 1o ven ted another cab on Mad and it swerved over a y He shouted the numbe on Eleventh street. The drive nodded, and Jerry got in. The cal started. T pulled the windo aside and spoke to the driver. “Take vour time,” he said. “Drive * - We were plar bowed for the fourt is T who am s softest voice. called We ed ry,” “You were “that in't E Jerry started sire to ask aid,” Mr get but what mes . he murmured Phyllis. who had room behind he. da lithe: the mothe " saia Mrs. Gordon. “My Aut vou know, Phyllie’ g t—I suppose it's really better for her, poor soul’ Oh, ves," Jerr u y agreed “It i= bet n look at it that wa cou will forgive us for not g You to dinner tonight—it didn’t respectful. And I thought we could all sit at home instead of goins to the theater.” She seated herself. ou are punctual, Mr. Tinker had turned ¢ from Mr. Gor don for the moment, and the voica ci into the side of his head. For perhaps eenth time that evening he wa Iy to faint. He turned. “I sald i cage for you to come at about by Jove!—it v 8:20 whe: you rang the bell." 3 to be on time, sir.” k another pause, and Mrs 1o the occasion with c of conversation | must say.” she said, “I'm glad we are going to the country next weel There isn't a soul in town. Nothing ever happens in New York after the | Ist of June. Don't you find it so, M: Mr Gordon.” Officer Was Thrice Acc | And Proved Innocence Only by Chance BY CAPT. ERNEST C. BROWN, As Told to F. Gregory Hartswick. ANUARY fs a bad month for me. Every time the first of the y | | | { particularly if the date of the year {8 an even number. For in the Januaries of 1918, 1920 and 1922 | |1 came so near to death that I could | almost_feel the rope about my neck or the bullets in my heart. . In 1918 T was with the Royal Flying | Corps as an aerial photographer. 1 used to earn a little extra money by writing war articles, illustrated with photographs, for papers in England. { These I mailed to the papers, subject, | of course, to the censor's approval. | The Labor Herald, a_ journal devoted to the interests of the Labor party, was my best customer. In the latter part of January, 1918, I happened to be near Greenock, in Scotland, where there was a submarine | base. Among the boats there was one of the so-calld C-type, the C-6, which was used to train merchant skippers torpedo defense. The merchantmen would_go out in a_lighter or tender, pedoes at it, so that the men could { get a notion of how a torpedo looked | and moved in the water, and how to dodge it if possible. A friend of mine, Lieut. Comdr. Rowe, R. N., was in charge of the boat at the time. He asked me if I would like to go down, and I jumped at the chance. I knew the air and the land, but I had never been under the sea. I was with the submarine most of the day, and in the evening left for Edinburgh, much pleased with my experience. Shortly afterward I was arrested, charged with having taken and pub- lished photographs of forbidden mat- ters. The charge was under the de- fense of the real act—the famous Dora of war times. I need not say that conviction of espionage meant a firing squad, no less. I denied the charge, of course, but the evidence was black. Photographs of the in- terior of a C-type submarine, showing many secret devices, had been pub- lished in the Labor Herald; the paper had testified that they had been sent by Capt. Brown and that it had pub- lished them, thinking, of course, that the pictures had been passed by the censor. I was taken before a general court- martfal. Things looked dark. I called on Lieut. Comdr. Rowe, who testified that I had indeed been with him on a C-type boat, but that I had taken no pictures—I had not even had a camera with me. The authorities were puz- zled. The Labor Herald insisted that ihe photos had been sent gn by Capt. L.own, and hat they haffjpreviously { g ¢ comes along I get the shivers, | S3d. land the sub would fire dummy tor- ! published photographs taken by him. | Then a happy thought came to me. “Get the canceled check by which vou paid for those C-type photos.” I “You'll find that the indorse- { ment is not in my handwritin The check was brought and it con- firmed my. statement. It was made {cut to and indorsed by “Capt. E. C. | Brown,” biy the indorsement was in a hand totally different from mine. On this evidence and that of Lieut. Comdr. Rowe I was freed. It was later discovered that a ser- geant in the Air Force had taken the pictures and used my name, knowing the paper and so assuring more cer- tain acceptance. Two yvears later, in January, 1920, T came to London as divisional secre- tary of the Comrades of the Great War, an organization like your Amer- ican TLegion. I was to inspect the London posts and clubhouses and start a drive for funds. T called on Sir Robert Balfour, the M. P. for Patrick Division of Glasgow, for five guineas from him. This checl I did not deposit, but put into m: pocket. went to one of the clubs. I arrived at about 7 in the evening. As I went into the office of the secretary to pre- sent my credentials I noticed that he looked at me in a peculiar way and immediately excused himself. He came back in a moment with two men. One of the men closed the door and put his back against it. The other looked at me for a moment, and then said: “Now then, Brown, who are you and what are you? Suppose we step over to police headqxa‘r?égs and talk it over.” 1 went with him, of course, utterly mystified. At headquarters I was put through a searching examination. I had a perfectly straight story to tell, naturally, and answered everything they asked me.. But I insisted on knowing with what I was charged. Imagine my stupefaction when I was told that I was held on a charge of murder! On the afternoon of the Monday before a nurse, Miss Shore, niece of ‘the famous Florence Nightingale, had i been assaulted and left for dead in a compartment of a car on the train going from London to Brighton. Eng- lish railway carriages, as you know, are arranged with crosswise compart- ments holding several people, but cut off from the rest of the car. Miss Shore had been seen entering the train, and at London Bridge Station a man had the compartment with her. Later. a zuard had found her body huddled on the Qoor of ihe that T was a frequent contributor to | on a Saturday and received a check | On the following Thursday 1| | compartment, with the skull brutaliy | fractured. The description of the | man, vague though it was, tallied | fairly well with me, and there w: the additional fact that he wore a con spicuous brown greatcoat. And my own greatcoat was of a very decided shade of bright brow When T heard this charze I was numbed. I' must have looked and ted like the guiltiest murderer un hung. | tectives ask, “Where were you Mon day afternoon?” And for the life of me I couldn’t remember. 1 proved by Sir Robert Balfour's check where I had been on the previous Saturday— but where on Monday? For four hours 1 was mercilessiy grilled, and still my blank memory refused to fill the gap that would save me from the hangman’s noosé. The detective: lookéd at one another significantly. The murderer was caught' That night I spent in a cell. in the blackness of despair. If I could only remember! Sleep came (o me at la the sleep of utter exhaustion. But in the morning recollection came like a flood. and I called to a the inspector here! to tell him.” The inspector came immediately with witnesses. I suppose he thought he was golng to hear a confession. But T surprised him. “When yvour men took my effects last night,” I said, “they found in one of my pockets a blue slip of paper. That is the proof of where I was all day yesterday. 1 was in the reading room of the British Museum!" Visitors to the museum are required to sign a permit. This permit is in two parts, like a check and its stub. The permit and stub are time-stamped when you go in, and the attendant keeps the permit, giving you the stub. Both are also time-stamped when you 5o out. Even should vou leave the room temporarily you must have the | time.stamp. I had often chafed at this ponderous red tape, but now I blessed it. I could account for every minute of the time on Monday now. Once again death had clutched at me and missed. I was set free at once, of course, with apologies from the police. The murderer of Nurse Shore, by the was never, to my knowledge, captured. Again two years passed, and I came to January, 1922. At that time I was in Constantinople. I had.gone there in 1921, just before the Mudania con- ference about the Mesopotamian boun- dary. T had been attached to the Allied Commission as §viltan staff photos rapher, and had gune iuww Thiace Lo I have something used of Crimes Dimly T heard one of the de- | | guard, “Send the inspector here! Send | ht. 1926.) photograph some of the alleged Turk | ish atrocities with a committee of in vestigators. When the conference was T set up a photographer's studic in the Grand Rue de Pera, the Eu ropean quarter of Constantinople. And | January, 1922, found me making fairly good living and enjoying lite One evening 1 went to my favorit Greek restaurant for dinner. [ wi just beginninz when six Turkish ger darmes entered. Without a word the came over to my table, and withot feven letting me finish my meal the ihmriml me away. 1 was taken 1 over, Stamboul to the headquarters of F { Pasha, who was commissioner of Con | stantinople at that time. There I was | charged with the murder of » Turkish jofficer at Galata on November 11, 1921 | T was not allowed to give any evidence {in my own behalf, but was hustle linto a dungeon to wait for—what” That dungeon was a dungeon! Ah olutely lightless, the walls siimy, the floor ankle deep in fiith, the alr so bad to make breathing almost impos sible. I was given moldy bread and a little water, and my protests to my | jailer, demanding trial or at least a hearing, fell on deaf ears. It seemed as though death had caught me at last, for I knew something of Turkish Justice. |~ Then. one day, my luck came once | more To my rescue. " At that time the | allied had what they called the Allied Police Commission, composed of an { American, an Englishman, an Italian and a Frenchman, whose duty it was to inspect the jails and investigate dublous cases. I knew of this com mission, but expected no aid from them. They did not know me, and the | authori could ~tell them an trumped-up story they liked. So when they visited my dungeon I paid litile attention to them—till 1 saw the face of the English officer. Instantly [ gave a cry of joy. “Don’t you remember me?" I cried “I am here charged with Killing Turk on November 11 last—and you know that I was at the Armistice day ball at the embassy that night— Le cause I nearly knocked vou over the floor while you were dancing! I'm Capt. Brown!” The officer recalled the incident tn a flash. During the dance I had acci dentally tripped on the floor and fallen against him, throwing him off his ba! ance. This accident and the subse quent_apologies made us acquainted and fixed the date and time in his mind. He could prove a perfect alilbg Lor we.