Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday flickered. But slio had annod herself with an electric torch ;ind used it from time to tiiiio. Slio fdiind nil iiiihitchod window at the back of the faniihoiisc, raised the bottom sash, and clambered into what proved to ho a very grubby kitchen with dirty plates and dishes in its sink. She passed into other rooms, shinin|r tho torch, and in wliat undoubtedly wa.s Molly Herkimer's bedroom she picked up and examined two pairs of down-at-heel shoes. She wont out from the farmhouse at its front door, and she was on the porch when a vivid flash of lig-htninf? made her jump. A crash of thunder sped her pn her way to the barn the door of which she loft open, and she seafthod tho whole of the uneven floor in the light of tho- torch. She was at the foot of the ladder that led to the hay-loft wlien the door slammed behind her back, and her heart missed a beat. But it was only a sudden gust of wind that had caused the door to slam, and, after con- vincing herself of that, she climbed the ladder. There was no hay in the loft, but there were wide cracks between the boards, and she found some curious marks in the boards themselves. Another peal of thunder was followed by an eerie silence, and then she heard the door creak. The beam of her torch was shining down between the boards into the barn, and she thought she saw a shadow moving there—the shadow of a man. She switched off the torch and crouched against a rafter. Something was moving in the barn, and she caught at her breath as another electric torch blazed and heavy footsteps sounded upon the rung.3 of the iidder. Abruptly the beam of the other torch flashed into her eyes, and a well-known voice said, "Bo!" "Oh. Steve!" she cried in hysterical relief. "Oh, darling, you shouldn't do that!" She flew to him as he advanced towards her, and she shivered in his arms. "Don't tell me Miss Sherlock Hobnes is scared," he said mockingly. "Oh, out of ten years' growth," she declared. "What are you doing here?" "I had a hunch you'd go on a shoe hunt." "Yes. Yes. vou were right." ];Any luck?"" "Not e.Kactly. Not as far as shoes are con- cerned," She switched on her torch again, and directed its beam upon the indentations in the boards. "But look, Steve, what do you suppose could have made these marks?" "Mice," said he. "Oh, bo sensible! They're made by boxes, or crates. Big ones—heavy ones." She counted as they stooped side by side with both their torches trained upon the marks. "One—two— . three—four—five—six of them!" "Probably little boxes filled with diamonds and gold, carried by invisible hands," teased Steve, and he rose and raised her to her feet. "Listen, honey, we'd better get back before the rain starts." "Oh !" she began. "But I have a feelings " "So have I," he broke in with a kiss. "A hungry feeling." COLLINS RUNS AWAY AT .ten o'clock next morning the court-room wa.J crowded when Judge Burbridge took his seat on the bench and the clerk formally declared the court to be in session. The jury were sworn in and occupied their box, and inside the well of the court Howard rose from the table at which he had seated himself beside his obstinate client, and went across to the table at which Tucker- Tyler was fiddling with his papers as Deputy County Prosecutor. "Have you changed your mind since last night?" ho asked in a low voice. "I have not!" snapped Tucker. "You will!" Howard went back to his table, raised a hand, and addressed the judge in a voice that rang through the court and was heard even by people beyond its doors who had failed to gain admission. "Your honour, I move for a dismissal." "Huh?" The judge stared in surprise. "On ■what grounds, Mr. Adams ?" "On the grounds that the defendant has been falsely indicted, since no murder has been committed." Thi.? created what the newspapers aftertvards described as "a sensation." Tucker "Tyler ro.S8 hurriedly and heatedly. BOY'S CINEMA "I object!" ho cried. "Tho defendant has confessed to committing murder!" "If the prosecuting attorney will examine tho county records," retorted "Jloward with a dramatic gesture, "he will see that the coroner's report altrit)u(es Mr. Herkimor'.s death to ehronic alcoholism and angina pectoris." 2'uckor Tyler bit his lip. llis father, seated beside Sanuiel Q. J.awsoti on a chair juijt beyond the rail of tho well, shifted uneasily. Molly Herkimer, dressed in a magpie costume for her trial, started . to her feet, but was pushed down again by Howard before she could open her mouth. "It docs?" riu<'stioned the judge. "It does," said Howard empliatically. Dr. Tyler was called to tlie bench, and did not appreciate the fact (hat all eyes were focused upon him. "What does tho autopsy .show?" inquired the judge. "VVIiy—or—well, the coroner's report " mumbled the uneasy doctor. "The autopsy!" Howard thundered at him. "The autop.sy!" "Well," confessed Tucker Tyler, on his father's behalf, "there wasn't an autopsy." "I—I saw no reason to pcrfoim an autopsy," stammered Dr. Tyler. "1 have known the man for thirty years " "Fathe'r! Father!" rebuked Tucker. "That has nothing to do with this case!" cried Howard. Father and son began to whisper together, but tho judge called them to order, and Howard said : "Your honour, I must insist upon an immediate dismissal." The judge frowned, rapped on the bench to put an end to the excited chatter of the crowd, and said sharply to Dr. Tyler: "How long does it "take to make an autopsy?" "Oh—er—three or four hours," was the grudging response. "Tliis court adjourns until ten o'clock to- morrow morning for an autopsy to be made." "Tlumk you, your honour," bowed Howard. At four o'clock in the afternoon, Pi Kelly was pulling a pi-oof of what Steve hoped would bo the front page of a special edition of the "Bee- Clarion," and Steve and Mary Lou were in the outer office of the printing w^orks, waiting for news concerning the autopsy, when a reporter from one of tho big Chicago pniiem dartod in at the open front door and Icniied over tho rail. "(IreetiiigM greetings, everybody," ho said loudly. "Well, what's the iicwh?'' "What are you asking me for?" countered Steve. "1 thought you wore the smart City reporter. Have thoy finished tho autop.fy?" "No, not j'et. Dr. Tyler and young Dr. Sjiark.s are still at the mortuary. Your Chief of Police is guarding the door with his body against all comer.^. Why aren't you over tliero to get the result?" "Why areti't you?" Tho reporter winked. "I thought tho real story uu'ght be hero." He leaned farther over the rail to address Howard, who seemed to bo absorbed in a book. "What's the idea of an autop.sy in the middle of a trial?" "Why not?" said Howard, without raising his eyes. "Bf^cause there's something furniy about it— there's something funny about the whole case." Steve Ijurned to Mary Ix)u, who was looking very businesslike at tlie typewriter. "Do you see anything funny about it, Mi.ss Carroll?" "Why, not at all, Mr. Lewis, not at all." "Oh, I see!" snorted the reporter. "Another ' Bee-Clarion ' exclusive '." "Why.—ei-—yes, you might put it that way, yes," nodded Steve. Pi appeared from the inner room with a page proof in his hands. "Here's that front page of the extra," he said. Steve turned, but the reporter snatched. Mary Lou and Howard ru.shed to the rescue, but they were too late. The reporter backed away with his prize to read the flaming head- lines : AUTOPSY PROVES HERKIMER'S DEATH NATURAL. Confession all a Hoax! "Just as I thought!" he cried triumphantly. "A frame-up!" "Give me that sheet!" roared Steve. But the reporter screwed it up and thrust it into a pocket. "Just wait till I show it to the boys," he jeered. "Exclusive story!" Steve locked his other arm in a hold that was agonising, and he said fiercely : " ought to break your neck I " January 20th, 1940.