Evening Star Newspaper, April 7, 1935, Page 91

THIS WEEK Courtesy Station WPYK Reynolds had ““never made a mistake;” the story behind two news flashes by ADELE and CATEAU DE LEEUW himself out this way — nerves were on edge, he guessed. That was bad ; he'd have to calm down. He lit a cigarette, and his face relaxed with the second deep pull. He began walking again — up and down, up and down. He was safe here, as safe as he'd ever be, as safe as he needed to be. Nice, conservative hotel, big enough to lose himself in. Big bed where he could get some sleep. Sound-proof walls; running ice-water; radio in every room. Two windows looking out over the Avenue — eight stories up. Clothes hung in the closets — those respectable, traveling-man clothes he * had acquired; sample cases ranged against the wall. For all anybody knew he was exactly what he wanted them to think he was —a traveling salesman of the better sort. The bell-boy had looked at him rather queerly, he remembered. But he guessed that was because he had given the kid a dollar bill. He shouldn’t have done that; it wasn't in character; and besides, people weren't being so free and easy handing out dollar bills these days. He'd have to go slow for awhile. But after that — boy, was he going to live high, wide and handsome! After all the hullaballoo died down, of course, and he could come out from under cover. Those sample cases were a good idea. He had the cash right where he could keep his eye on it. No stocks or bonds for him! Eighty thousand in cold cash, much of it in small bills, He was a clever guy, if he did say so himself. He stopped and looked in the mirror. Not a mistake anywhere. Dyed hair — and it was a dam’ good job; eyebrows changed; horn- rimmed spectacles; neat gray suit. He pulled down his vest and turned away. Damned funny, the way it almost gave him a turn to look at himself — he was so But it was working out — just t.he way he thought it would. Nobody ‘could say he hadn’t planned this job. The master mind, all right. He'd always said he ought to work alone; when he was alone he could make the thing come out right. Last time he’'d worked with a partner, and look where it had landed him. This room was a little {00 sound-proof for him. He'd like some noise. All he could hear was himself walking up and down. . . . The radio! What was the matter with the radio? He walked over to the wall, pulled the switch. A little light went on, and after a moment, music swelled into the room. An orchestra playing ‘“Wagon Wheels.” Wagon wheels. . . . Well, he'd be traveling. Of course it wasn't so good having to shoot that old flat-foot that was acting as night watchman. But if the damn’ fool hadn't snooped up on him that way and startled him, he wouldn't have got it in the neck. It was queer the way the fellow had crumpled up without making a sound. But so much the better. He'd gone right on, cool as you please, stowing the stuff away, and when he had finished he walked out of the building. The fine and handsome Riveredge Trust Company that thought it had all its money safely hidden away' Yep, he'd walked right out, never hurried a step, and got in his car parked half way down the block and driven away. Hadn’t met a soul. Not a soul, except Benny Dugan. Funny, how he'd almost run into Benny, just after he had turned the corner from the Trust Company. Benny walking so fast he was run- ning. Wonder where he was going so fast? Benny was in such a hurry he hadn't even seen him — him, his old pal, Reynolds. Well — pal while they were both in stir, anyhow. Benny was a dumb-bell; he hadn’t wanted to meet up with him too much afterwards. He had an idea Benny was the kind who'd always be getting in trouble. Whereas, with him, EYNOLDS paused in his nervous pac- R ing of the room. No use wearing he'd got in trouble If the fool hadn’t snooped up on him that way, he wouldn’t have got it in the neck once, and that was enough. Stir! God, that was terrible! The rat that got him in was District Attorney now. He’d like to sock him one, just for old time's sake. The orchestra had given over to a tenor. Reynolds didn't like tenors. ‘“B-b-b-baby, I'm crazy a-b-b-b-bout you!” Boloney! He strode over and twisted the dial. Some announcer was babbling excitedly, ‘...and the police have this desperate bank- robber and murderer cornered. He's in a big mid-town hotel. There’s no possibility of escape. The lines have been drawn tight. There are police at every entrance and exit, and all points are being watched. It is only a matter of time, they believe. . . . Your announcer is Emory Metcalf.” There was a pause; then another voice said, *Good after- noon everybody. We now present the Dream- land Concert Ensemble. . ..” Reynolds stood rooted to the floor. When he was able to move he passed the mirror, glancing unwillingly at himself. Not changed any. But his face felt clammy and his skin tight. There was a prickling along his scalp. Getting cold feet? he asked himself with a sneer. Not by a jugful. . . . But — bank robber and murderer . und-town hotel. . . . That fitted him . pohee at every entmnce and exit ...all pomts being watched. . Well he'd find out. His legs would hardly move to the windows. He looked down. He couldn't see the entrance, but near the mar- quee at.the curb stood two cops. . . . What of it? Passing the time of day, probably. . . . Still, just to make sure — Cautiously, so that it scarcely seemed to move, he unlocked the door, opened it the merest crack. No one there. Growing bolder, he peered around the corner. At the end of the hall was the floor clerk’s desk. Leaning against it was the house detective. He closed the door as quietly as he had opened it, locked it, turned the latch knob. Then he leaned his back against it and tried to still his quick breathing. He ran his hand across his forehead. It was wet. How could they know where he was? He'd covered every point. It had been a fool- proof plan. Everything had worked out —so far. Yeah, so far. . . . Wonder what that damned radio had to say? Maybe the news announcer on WPYK would have some- thing. . . . He turned the dial with a hand that trembled. Why, good Lord, he'd thought the whole thing out so that it was a hundred percent perfect. Dyeing his hair by himself, in the woods; driving the car to Akron and leaving it there; taking a train to Cincinnati; travel- ing to Indianapolis, then to Detroit. Always with the sample cases, putting up at first-class* hotels. There hadn’t been the slightest sus- picion, nobody’d even looked at him cross- eyed. He knew that — he could have spotted a dick a mile away. . A voice came on. * . .. and the Police Commissioner himself is on this job. He 1I has given every assurance that it will be only a matter of hours before the criminal is caught. He is determined that the criminal shall not escapre. He has drawn his cordon of men tighter axround the hotel; the man they want is hidimg now, but eventually he'll comeout — "' Oh, he will, will he? Not this one! Not George Reynolds! Be caught, taken before a rotten judge, sent up again? Not if he knew it! How they'd got on his trail was more than he knew . . . lae never should have shot that damned little squirt in the bank; that's why they were s0 hot after him. . . . But they'd mot take him alive again. He'd never put in another spell i stir. God! That was too much. I(theygothlmumume it would be life. He reached in his pocket. Now —do it now while you"ve got some guts left. Let 'em draw their cordon of men tighter — let ‘em, the big stiffs! Let 'em come right up here, hattu'downtlndoor and see what they'® find. He'd beat 'em anyhow. That is the way he'd beat 'em. They'd never catch George Reynolds! _*“...andthey aresure that when he makes his break for freedom, Benny Dugap, the bank robber and murderer, who has been hunted for the past six weeks, will be a dead man. . . . You have just heard this news flash thirough the cowartesy of Station WPYK."” But the man sprawled out on the floor had not heard it.