Evening Star Newspaper, June 8, 1930, Page 89

1930. DN, B. €, JUNE 8, Tnvolved in Another Mystery '{} BY EDGAR WALLACE 7 ~ MRS RN nd the theatricalities which were presented om e stage. But whenever she looked, he was lbsorved in the action of the play; she could lmost feel him tremble when the hero was apped to a log and thrown into the boiling ountain stream, and when the stage Jove was escued on the fall of the curtain, she heard, lith something like stupefaction, Mr. Reeder's ivering sigh of relief. “But surely, Mr. Reeder, this bores you?” protested, when the lights in the auditorium ené up. “This—you mean the play—bore me? Good acious, no! I think it is very fine, remark- bly fine.” “But it isn't life, surely. The story is s0 dly improbable, and the incidents—oh, yes, 'm enjoying it all; please don’t look so wor- ied! Only I thought that you, who knew so nuch about criminology—is that the word?— ould be rather amused.” Mr. Reeder was looking very anxiously at per. “I'm afraid it is not the kind of play——" “Oh, but it is—I love melodrama. But oesn’t it strike you as being—far-fetched? For instance, that man being chained to a log, d the mother agreeing to her son's death?” Mr. Reeder rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “The Bermondsey gang chained Harry Salter o a plank, turned it over and let him drown. was at the execution of Tod Rowe, and he dmitted it on the scaffold. And it was Lee bearson’s mother who poisoned him to get his nsurance money 50 that she could marry again. was at the trial and she took her sentence aughing—now what else was there in that act? Dh, yes, I remember, the proprietor of the saw- Inill tried to get the young lady to marry him by threatening to send her father to prison. I'hat has been done hundreds of times—only n & worse way. There is really nothing very travagant about a melodrama except the prices of the seats, and I usually get my tickets ree!” She listened, at first dumbfounded, and then itb,a gurgle of amusement. “How queer—and yet—well, frankly, I have pnly met melodrama once in life, and even now cavinot believe it. What happens in the next . 7 gid Mr. Reeder consulted his program. “I rather believe that the young woman in the white dress is captured and removed to the arem of an Eastern potentate,” he said pre- isely, and this time the girl laughed aloud. “Have you a parallel for that?” she asked umphantly, and Mr. Reeder was compelled to dmit that he knew no exact parallel, but—— “It is rather a remarkable coincidence,” he aid, “a very remarkable coincidence!” She looked at her program, wondering if she ad overlooked anything so very remarkable. “There is at this moment, watching me from e front row of the dress circle—I beg you not o turn your head—one who, if he is not a botentate; is undoubtedly Eastern; there are, in act, two dark-complexioned gentlemen, but pnly one may be described as important.” “But why are they watching you?” she asked surprise. “Possibly,” said Mr. Reeder solemnly, “be- ause I look so remarkable in evening dress.” One of the dark complexioned gentlemen urned to his companion at this moment. “It is the woman he travels with every day; he lives in the same street, and is doubtless nore to him than anybody in the world, Ram. 77 Mr. Reeder was reaching for the handle when the door open violently. See how she laughs in his face and how the old so-and-so looks at her! When men come to his great age they grow silly about women. This thing can be done tonight. I would sooner die than go back to Bombay without accom- plishing my design upon this such-and-such and so-forth.” Ram, his chauffeur, confederate and fellow jallbird, who was cast in a less heroc mold, and had, moreover, no personal vendetta, sug- gested in haste that the matter should be shought over. “I have cogitated every hypothesis to their Jogical conclusions,” said Ras Lal in English. “But, master,” said his companion urgently, “would it not be wise to leave this country and make a fortune with the new money which the fat little man can sell to us?” “Vengeance s mine,” said Ras ILal in English. HE sat through the next act, which, as Mr. Reeder had truly said, depicted the luring of an innocent girl into the hateful clutches of a Turkish pasha and, watching the develop- ment of the plot, his own scheme underwent revision. He did not wait to see what hap- pened in the third and fourth acts—there were certain preparations to be made. “I still think that, while the story is awfully thrilling, it is awfully impossible,” said Mar- garet, as they moved slowly through the crowded vestibule, “In real life—in civilized countries, I mean—masked men do not suddenly appear from nowhere with pistols and say ‘Hands up!’—not really, do they, Mr. Reeder?” she coaxed. Mr. Reeder murmured a reluctant agreement. “But I have enjoyed it tremendously!"” she said with enthusiasm, and looking down into the pink face Mr. Reeder felt a curious sensa= tion which was not entirely pleasure and not wholly pain. “I am very glad,” he said. He was looking round the foyer for a face he had seen when he arrived. But neither Ras Lal nor his companion in misfortune was visible. - Rain was falling dismally, and it was some time before he found a cab. “Luxury upon luxury,” smiled Margaret, when he took his place by her side. “You may smoke if you wish.” Mr. Reeder took a paper packet of cigarettes from his waistcoat pocket, selected a limp cylinder, and lit it. “No plays are quite like life, my dear young lady,” he said, as he carefully pushed the match through the space between the top of the window and the frame. “Melodramas appeal most to me because of their idealism.” She turned and stared at him. “Idealism?” she repeated incredulously. He nodded. “Have you ever noticed that there is nothing sordid about a melodrama? I once saw = classical drama—'(Edipus’—and it made me feel sick. In melodrama even the villains are heroic, and the inevitable and unwaryng moral is ‘Truth crushed to earth will rise again.’ Isn't that idealism? And they are wholesome. There are no sex problems; unpleasant things are never shown in an-attractive light—you come away uplifted.” “If you are young enough,” she smiled. “One should always be young enough to rejoice in the triumph of virtue,” said Mr. Reeder soberly. They drove uptown. Through the rain- blurred windows J. G. picked up the familiar landmarks and offered a running commentary upon them. A big car had drawn level with the cab, and the driver was shouting something to the cab- man. Even the suspicious Mr. Reeder suspected no more than an exchange of offensiveness, till the cab suddenly turned into a side street. The car had fallen behind, but now drew abreast. “Probably the avenue is torn up,” said J. G., and at that moment the cab slowed and stopped. He was reaching out for the handle when the door was pulled open violently, and in the uncertain light Mr. Reeder saw a broad- shouldered man standing in the road. “Alight quickly!” In the man’s hand was a long black Colt, and his face was covered from mouth to fore- head by a mask. “Quickly—and keep your hands erect!” Mr. Reeder stepped out into the rain and reached to close the door. “The female also—come, miss!” “Here—what's the game—you told me the avenue was blocked.” It was the cabman talking. “Here is a fiver—keep your mouth shut.” The masked man thrust a note at the driver. “I don’t want your money——" “You require my bullet in your bosom per- chance, my good fellow?” asked Ras Lal sardonically. Margaret had followed her escort into the street by this time. The car had stopped just behind the cab. With the muzzle of the pistol stuck into his back, Mr. Reeder walked to the open door and entered. The girl followed, and the masked man jumped after them and closed the door. Inst. itly the interior was flooded with light. “This is a considerable surprise to a clever and intelligent police detective?” HE captor sat on the opposite seat, his pistol on his knees. Through the holes of the black mask a pair of brown eyes gleamed malevolently. But Mr. Reeder’s interest was in the girl. The shock had struck the color from her face, but he observed with thankfulness that her chief emotion was not fear. She was numb with amazement, and was stricken speechless, The car had circled and was moving swiftly back the way they had come. The journey was a short one. He felt the car wheels bump over an uneven roadway for a hundred yards, the body rocking uncomfortably, and then, with a jar of brakes, the machine stopped suddenly. They were on & narrow, muddy lane. On one side rose the arches of a railway aqueduct, on the other an open space bounded by a high fence. Evidently the driver had pulied up short of their destination, for they had to squeich and slide through the thick mud for another 50 yards before they came to a narrow gateway in the fence. Through this they struck a cinder path leading to a square building, which Mr. Reeder guessed was a small factory of some kind. Their conductor flashed a lamp on the door, and in weather-worn letters the detective read: “The Storn-Filton Leather Co.” “Now!” said the man as he turned a switch, “now, my false-swearing and corrupt police of- ficial, I have a slight bill to settle with you.” They were in a dusty lobby, inclosed on three sides by thin walls. “‘Account’ is the word you want, Ras Lal” murmured Mr. Reeder. For a moment the man was taken aback, and then, snatching the mask from his face: “I am Ras Lal! And you shall repent it! For you and your young missus this is indeed a cruel night of anxiety!” Mr. Reeder did not smile at the quaint Eng- lish. The gun in the man’s hand spoke all lan- guages without error, and could be as fatal in the hands of an unconscious humorist as if it were handled by the most savage of purists. And he was worried about the girl; she had not spoken a word since their capture, The color had come back to her cheeks, and that was a good sign. There was, too, a light in her eyes which Reeder could not associate with fear. Flinging open a door, Ras Lal motioned them to pass through and mount the bare stairs which faced them. At the top was a landing Gas Leakage HE housewife who has retreated with smart- ing eyes befure the gas arising from lard spilled on & hot stove will qualify as an expert on gas leakage from mechanical refrigerators, if present tests warrant & commercial applica- tion. ‘The acrid gas caused by the lard is known as acrolein, and this chemical has been found to work successfully when mixed with methyl chloride, one of the common media for mechani- cal refrigerators. From the viewpoint of relative toxicity, methyl chloride is considerably less toxic than the two other commonly used media for mechanical refrigeration—namely, sulphur di- oxide and ammonia—the Bureau of Mines points out. Too much emphasis is often placed on the toxicity of a gas or vapor being a complete measure of the hazard to health, and accord- ingly the tendency is to respect the more toxic and tolerate the less toxic, says the bureau. This often results in serious trouble. Toxicity is only one of the factors to be considered in evaluating health hazards. Volatility, warning properties and potential exposure are also important. In the report of a study of the toxicity of methyl chloride made by the Pittsburgh experi- ment station of the Bureau of Mines, a recom- mendation was made to add a substance to the methyl chloride to give it offensive or warning and a large steel door set in the solid brickwork. Pulling back the iron bolt, he pushed at the door and it opened with a squeak. It was a large room and had evidently been used for the storage of something inflammable, for the walls and floor were of rough-faced concrete and above a dusty desk an inscription was painted, “Danger. No smoking.” There were no windows except one some 18 inches square, the top of which was near the ceiling. In one corner of the room as a heap of grimy paper files, and on the desk a dozen small wooden boxes, one of which had been opened, for the nail-bristling lid was canted up at an angle. “Make yourself content for half an hour, or probably 40 minutes,” said Ras Lal, standing in the doorway with his ostentatious revolver. “At that time I shall come for your female; tomor- row she will be on a ship with me, bound for— ah, who knows where?” “Shut the door as you go out,” said Mr. J. G. Reeder, “there is an unpleasant draught.” Mr. Tommy Fenalow came on foot at 2 o'clock in the morning and, passing down the muddy lane, his electric torch suddenly revealed car marks. Tommy stopped like a man shot. His knees trembled beneath him and his heart entered his throat at the narrowest end. For a while he was undecided whether it would be better to run or walk away. He had no inten- tion of going forward. And then he heard a voice. It was Ras Lal's assistant, and he nearly swooned with joy. Stumbling forward, he came up to the shivering man. 2 “Did that fool boss of yours bring the ear along here?” he asked in a whisper. “Yas—Mr. Ras Lal,” said Ram, with whom the English language was not a strong point.” “Then he’s a fool!” growled Tommy. “Gosh! he put my heart in my mouth!” WHILE Ram was getting together sufficient English to explain what had happened, Tommy passed on. He found his client sitting in the lobby, a black cheroot between his teeth, a smile of satisfaction on his dark face. “Welcome!” he said as Tommy closed the door. “We have trapped the weasel.” “Never mind about the weasel,” said the other impatiently. “Did you find the rupees?” Ras Lal shook his head. “But I left them in the store room, 10,000 - notes. skipped anxiously. “I have something more important im the store room; come and see, my friend.” He preceded the bewildered Tommy up the stairs, turned on the landing light and threw open the door. “Behold——" he said, and said no more. “Why, it is Mr. Fenalow!” said Mr. J. G. One hand held a packet of almost lifelike rupee notes; as for the other hand—— “You oughter known he carried a gun, you dam’ black baboon,” hissed Tommy. “An' to put him in a room where the stuff was, and a telephone!” He was being driven to the local police sta- tion, and for the moment was attached to his companion by links of steel. “It was & mere jest or a piece of practical joking, as 1 shall explain to the judge im thc morning,” said Ras airily. Tommy Fenalow's reply was unprintable. I thought ycu'd have got them and before this,” said Mr. FPenalow THREE o'clock boomed out from & mnearby +* church as Mr. Reeder accompanied an ex- cited girl to the front door of her boarding house. “I can't tell you how I—I've enjoyed tonight,” she said. Mr. Reeder glanced uneasily at the dark face of the house. “I hope—er—your friends will not think ic remarkable that you should return at such a hour.” Despite her assurance, he went slowly home with an uneasy feeling that her name had in some way been compromised. And in melo- drama, when a heroine's name is compromised, somebody has to marry her. That was the disturbing thought that kept Mr. Reeder awake all night. (Copyright, 1930.; in Refrigerators. properties. Manufacturers of methyl chlorkie and refrigerating devices using methyl chloride have seriously considered that recommendatioy, and have conducted research which led to the development of acrolein as an apparently sait- able warning agent for their product. Acrolein gives distinct warning in concentra- tions as low as one part per million parts cf air and is intolerable when present in amounts as large as three to five parts per million. When small amounts are added to methyl chloride similar warning properties are imparted to the methyl chloride, so that its escape into the air breathed by persons is quickly and readily detected. Enough of the warning agent is added to the methyl chloride to make non-injurious con- centrations of methyl chloride detectable and immediately injurious concentrations intoler- able, thereby compelling persons to leave the dangerous atmospheres. Higher Lead Production. THE lead business seems to be looking up a bit. During 1929 production was 7 per cent higher than in 1928, and the value was up 17 per cent. The total value was $84,735,000 and the total output of refined metal was 672,498 tons. re