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Valentino's
Haunted House
By RUTH BIERY
who left without collecting his belongings because he had seen the master petting one of the horses, early one evening.
Then there is the woman from Seattle who visited the caretakers in their quarters over the garage far to the rear of the main building. Her friends went out, when the dusk was turning to dark, to exercise "Rudy" and "Brownie," the two Great Danes that belonged to theactor. She was writing a letter in the back room of the quarters.
SHUFFLING FOOTSTEPS
SHE paused, pen raised, ink blotting her letter. Steps shuffling up the stairs — an inner door opening. She thought it Was her friends returning. She called their names. No answer. The door closing. Steps shuffling back down the stairs. Garage doors closing.
Three minutes later, her friends — the caretakers — returning.
"Why didn't you answer when you came up and I called you?" she questioned.
"Came up? Neither of us came up. You must have been dreaming."
They investigated, could have climbed the steep ascent from the main canyon road without passing the caretakers exercising the dogs of Valentino. No one could have hidden on the premises without being discovered.
Two days later the guest from Seattle prematurely departed.
George Ullman, manager and close friend of Valentino, feels as all intelligent folk must feel about this return-from-beyond-th e-gr a ve problem. He neither believes nor disbelieves it. When Val
No
one
It was in these rooms that Valentino lived and it is in them, according to one legend, that his spirit still does. At the top is the entrance to the foyer; at the left one side of the library, and below is the drawing-room
entino left Falcon's Lair on that last trip, Mr. Ullman was his companion. The long train hours were spent in discussing spiritualism. A code was devised by the actor. "The one who passes on first will return and deliver this message. Then we will know definitely who is talking."
The code has never been delivered.
It is not generally known that Valentino made two victrola records of songs which he did not believe good enough to be released for the public. After his death, Mr. Ullman complied with the departed's wishes and refused their distribution. But he has the records and often turns out the lights in his own home and plays them, wondering if the secret code will be given. He has never run them, however, during the night at Falcon's Lair — the {Continued on page 101)
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