Evening Star Newspaper, June 29, 1930, Page 85

DN, D. C, JUNE 29, 1030 ctive, Has a Narrow Escape — By Edg “Oh” said Mr. Reeder blankly. He did not go to bed that night, but sat up n a small room at headquarters, reading from rief reports which came in from the various ivisions. And with the morning came the sick- ing realization that Margaret Belman’s name ust be added to those who had disappeared in ch extraordinary circumstances. He dozed in the big Windsor chair. At 8 "clock he returned to his own house and shaved nd bathed, and when the district attorney rrived at his office he found Mr. Reeder wait- g for him in the corridor, In a few words he told of Margaret Belman’s appearance, i “Do you connect De Silvo with this?” asked s chief. “Yes, I think I do,” said the other quietly, nd then, “There is only one hope, and it is a ery slender one—a very slender one, indeed.” He did not tell the district attorney in what at hope consisted, but walked down to the fMices of the Mexico City Investment Syndicate. - et 1P (L RS L el Alldd He felt himself falling through the cavity which the carpet hid, caught for a moment the edge of the trap, but as the man raised his foot to stamp the clutching fingers, Reeder released his hold and dropped. Mr. De Silvo was not in. Reeder would have been very much surprised if he had been. He crossed the hallway to see the lawyer, and this time found Mr. Ernest Bracher present with his brother. L “I am leaving a police officer in Pine street to arrest De Silvo the moment he puts in an appearance. I feel that you, as his lawyers, should know this,” said Mr. Reeder. “But why on earth——?" began Mr. Joseph Bracher. “I am quite in the dark,” said the lawyer, "mystified. “What has he been doing? Is his syndicate & fraud?” “I know nothing more fraudulent,” said the other shertly. “Tomorrow I intend to obtain the necessary authority to search his papers and to search the room and papers of Mr. John Baston.” It was 8 o'clock that night before Reeder left headquarters, and he was turning toward a fa- miliar corner when he saw a car coming toward him. Somebody leaned out of the window and signaled him, and the car turned. It was a two-seater coupe and the driver was Mr. Joseph Bracher. “We've found De Silvo,” he said breathlessly as he brought the car to a standstill at the curb and jumped out. “Where is he?” asked Mr. Reeder. “He came just before dinner to our house on Long Island. My brother and I are bachelors and we live there alone now, and he has been to ‘dinner before. My brother questioned him and he made certain admissions which are al- most inc¢redible. Ernest is detaining him until you come.” Mr. Reeder stepped into the car and in a few minutes they were flying through Long Island. Lane Touse, and old-fashioned Georgian resi- dence, lay at the end of a countrified road which was, he found, a cul de sac. Mr. Bracher alighted and opened the door, and Reeder passed imto a cosily furnished hall. One door was ajar. “Is that Mr. Reeder?” He recognized the voice of Ermest Bracher, and walked into the room. - The younger Mr. Bracher was standing with his back to the empty fireplace; there was no- body else in the room. Hl: held out his hand and Reeder crossed the room to take it. As he put his foot on the square Persian rug before the fireplace, he realized his danger and tried to spring back, but his balance was lost. He felt himself falling through the cavity which the carpet hid. In another second the trap was closed and Reeder was alone in a small, brick-lined cellar. Prom his hip pocket he took a flat electric hand lamp, switched on the electric current and surveyed his prison. The walls and floor were damp; that was the first thing he noticed. In one corner was a small flight of brick steps leading to a locked steel door, and then: “Mr. Reeder.” He spun around and turned his lamp upon the speaker. It was Margaret Belman. “How long have you been here?” “Since last night,” she answered. “Mr. Bracher telephoned me to see him and he picked me up in his car. They kept me in the other room until tonight, but an hour ago they brought me here’” “Which is the other room?" She pointed to the steel door. She offered no further details of her capture, and it was not a moment to discuss their misfortune. Reeder went up the steps and tried the door; it was fastened from the other side and opened in- ward, he discovered. He asked her where the door led and she told him it was to an under- ground kitchen and coal cellar. She had hoped to escape, because only a barred window stood between her and freedom in the little room where she was kept. “Now what on earth is he going to do?” he asked thoughtfully, and as though his enemies had heard the question and were determined to leave him in no doubt as to their plans, there came the sound of gurgling water, and in a sec- ond he was ankle deep. He put the light onto the place whence the water was coming. There were three circular holes in the wall, from each of which was gush- ing a solid stream. “What is it?" she asked in a terrified whisper. “Get ontc the steps and stay there,” he ordered peremptorily. The water came up with incredible rapidity, first to his knees, then to his thighs, and he Joined her on the steps. He slipped off his coat and vest and unbut- toned his collar. “You had better take off your skirt,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Can you swim?” “Yes,” she answered. “Are you very much afraid?” he asked, and took her hand in his. “No, I don’t think I am,” she said. “It is wonderful having you with me—why ‘are they doing this?” He said nothing, but carried the soft hand to his lips and kissed it. The water was now reaching the top step. Reeder stood with his back to the iron door, waiting. And then he felt something touch the door from the other side. There was a ar Wallace faint click, as though a bolt had been slipped " back. He put her gently aside and held his palms to the door. There was no doubt ncw; somebody was fumbling on the other side. He went down a step and presently he felt the door yield and come toward him, and there was a momentary gleam, of light. In another second he had wrenched. the door open and sprung through. “Hands up” Whoever it was had dropped his lamp, znd now Mr. Reeder focused the light of l'is own torch and nearly dropped. For the man in the passage was Mills, the ex- convict who had brought the tainted letter from Sing Sing. “All right, guv-nor,” growled the man. And then the whole explanation flashed upon the detective. In an instant he had gripped the girl by the hand and dragged her through the narrow passage, into which the water was, now steadily overrunning. “Which way did you get in, Mills?” he de- manded authoritatively. The convict led the way to what was evi- dently the window through which the girl had looked with such longing. The bars had been removed; the window sash itself lifted from its rusty hinges, and in another second the three were standing on the grass, with the stars twinkling above them. “Mills,” said Mr. Reeder, and his voice sliook, “you came here to ‘bust’ this house.” “That's right,” growled Mills. “Skip!” hissed Mr. Reeder. “And skip quick! Now, young lady, we'll go for a little walk.” A few seconds later a patroling polic man was smitten dumb by the apparition of a mid- dle-aged man in shirt and trousers and a l-dy who was inadequately attired in a silk petti- coat. ¢/T'HE Mexican company was Bracher & Bracher,” explained Reeder to his chief. “There was no John Baston. His room was a passageway by. which the Brachers could get from one room to the other. The clerk in the Mexican syndicate’s office was, of course, blind; I spotted that the moment I saw him. There are any number of blind typists employed in New_ York. A blind clerk was necessary if the identity of De Silvo with the Brachers wz: to be kept a secret. “Bracher & Bracher had been going badly for years. It will probably be found that they have made away with clients’ money; and they hit upon this scheme of inducing foolish invese tors to put money into their syndicate on the promise of large dividends. Their victims were well chosen and Joseph, who was the brains of the organization, conducted the most rigorous investigation to make sure that these unfore tunate people had no intimate friends. “After they had paid one or two years' divie dends the wretched investor was lured to the house in Long Island and there scientifically killed.” “Why did they delay their execution of Miss Belman?” Mr. Reeder coughed. “They wanted to make a clean sweep, but did not wish to kill her until they had mc in their hands. I rather suspect”—he coughed again—“that they thought I had an especin] in- terest in the young lady.” “And have you?” asked the district atto ney. Mr. Reeder did not reply. : (Copyright, 1930.) Chicago’s Ten Years of Gang Warfare. Continued from Eleventh Page I are good friends, so the boss gets hold of me and tells me to take you for a ride. This isn’t an assignment I can turn down, you know. If I don't fulfill it, and fulfill it promptly, I go for a ride myself. So the fact that you're my friend doesn't cut any ice. Well, the arrangements are all made for me. On the night selected I call on you and suggest that we go out and have a good time. I'm a close friend, and you trust me. We go to two or three places and have a few drinks, and finally we land at some roadhouse. ‘We sit down to eat a dinner, and just then I spot a couple of friends. They wave to me. I go over and shake hands, and in a minute I bring them back to my table. I introduce them to you as a couple of good friends of mine from Detroit. So the four of us sit down at the same table, and we order up a big meal. And when it’s over one of the two strangers suggests that we go to another roadhouse and have some fun. Well, you're out for & good time and you're among friends, so you agree. I get in the driver’s seat and you get in be- side me, and the two strangers get in the back seat. And away we go. Pretty soon, when we get to a lonely, dark section of the road, the two men in the back seats put the muzzles of their guns against the back of your head and let you have it. And then we dump you out beside the road somewhere and go back to the roadhouse. Like as not, we'll spend the rest of the evening having a swell time, eating and drinking. That's the way a man is taken for a ride. That’s the reason it almost always works. They always get their man in precisely the quarter where he figures he has nothing to fear. If the Chicago gangsters are adept at that sort of murder, they are also specialists at the art of shadowing a man and lying in wait for him. The red Indians of pioneer days couldn’t do that job any better. That was the way they got Hymie Weiss, you remember. It was also the method used in the famous St. Valentine's day massacre of 1929. That was probably the most famous of a! the Chicago killings. The men who were killed were part ¢f the North Side gang—O’Banion’s old crowd, now run by Bugs Moran. Their killers were Scuth Siders, headed by Fred Burke, COUPLE of weeks before the massacre these gangsters got rooms across the street from the garage where this Moran crowd was carrying on its booze activities. They had nine machine guns with them, and they settled down there to bide their time. They also had a couple of rooms in a hotel overlooking the back en= trance to the garage. The events of the massacre itself are sa familiar they don’t need repeating. The job was done quickly and simply. Burke and his gang just walked into the garage, got the drop om the seven men who were present, made themy stand with their hands up, facing the wall. and turned their machine guns and shotguns loosd on them. This Burke, by the way, is one of the most dangerous men Chicago ever had. I've beem asked many times if he wasn't a sap for killing a policeman later up in St. Joseph, Mich. It may look like it on the surface. Burke was well fixed up there—a big house, plenty of money and a good reputation. When he killed the officer he had to flee, leaving everything behind him. But he knew what he was about. He did the only thing he could do. Burke was arrested right in front of the St, Joe police station for a minor traffic violation, He knew the policeman probably would teke him inside to book him, and he couldn't take that chance. If some policeman in there had happened to recognize him or look up his record —they had his fingerprints and photograph on file—they’d have been sure to hold him for the Chicago police. Then they’d have searched his house, and in it were the machine guns used in the St. Val= entine’s day massacre—evidence that would have sent him to the electric chair. So he he couldn't take a chance. He drew * his gun, killed the officer in eold blood, and * made a clean getaway. (Copyiight. 1930.)