Boy's Cinema (1939-40)

Every Tuesday Dr. IMorley fiddled unconsciously with Iiis wafuli-chain while the two white-coatod dootoiM sliiftod uiicoiufottiibly iu thoir chaiiH. llu had to arrive at a decision, and ho took his time. "I supported you once, doctor," he said al last, "but 1 can't do so now. Of courso, if you in.sist on going- through with (his—this ex pcrimcnt, 1 ciurt stop yon. Yon are jiorfectly within your lights. But I nuist ask you to allow inc to retire from the case." "I undorsland how yon foci," nodded Stephen, "and I'll a<'«'pt full responsibility.'' ilo went out from tli<5 room, liis head erect, his shoulders squared, and conlidcnco in his eyes. "Sheer insanity!" Morley biust out after he had )^one. "He accepted the responsibility," shrugKc. Dr. Williams. " Pei-sonally, I don't believe that oven an amputation would save that pooi boy's life." Stephen went up to Ward 512, and he gave iho nurse a phial of his specific and asked lus to charge a hypodermic with the same quantits (hat had been used in the case of 'the man who had died. The boy's loft arm was treated with iodinc\ and Stephen himself injected the fluid. No shock followed the injection, though h. listened an.viously enough through a stetho scope for the faintest suggestion of one. Btii littlo Stove remained unconscious, and then seemed to be no reaction to the solution. For the space of two hours Stephen waited and hoped, and then ho asked the nurse to re charge the hypodermic. " 'riiis is the last injection I'm going to give him," he said, the stethoscope dangling from his ears as he took the syringe. "Thanks foi your help." Throughout the whole of that day and the night that followed it Stephen kept vigil be- side the cot of his boy, but could detect no important change. The dawn came, and Dr. Mather slipped silently into the ward to ask a question niutcly with his lips. Stephen sliook his head. The first rays of the sun were ligliting up the sky over the city when Dr. Morley stepped m at the door, impelled to pay a visit to the littlo patient he had discarded, partly out of pro- fessional curiosity, partly out of profound sympathy for the father to whom the boy's life meant so much. Dr. Mather was still there, and in silence the throe studied the little fellow with export eyes. And then the miracle happened. The boy's lips moved, his eyelids fluttered and opened, and he looked up wonderingly. It was the bearded face of Dr. Morley that he saw first, and it was strange to him. His gaze shifted to Dr. Mather, and ho blinked. Then, slowly, he turned his head a little, and he saw his father standing there with tears in his eyes. A smile spread across the boy's tips, and Stephen's strained face relaxed into an answering smile. Dr. Morley smiled; Dr. Mather smiled and nodded. Recovery was assured. A little hand came out from the bed-clothes, groping for a strong hand that reached down to hold it, and Dr. Morley patted Stephen on the shoulder. The " Garfield Discovery " became a news- ( paper sensation. The Medical Association gave official approval of the new preventive of' toxaemia resulting from burns, and the Food^ and Drug Administration granted permission' for the manufacture and marketing of the, .-pecific. Stephen left the business details to his > hrother-in-law, George Foster, and early in September went off for a long fishing trip' with Steve, who by then was perfectly fit again ^ —and supremely happy. BOY'S CINEMA 11 By permission of Colu tion, Ltd., adapted fro Power," the principal p Jack Holt as Gertrude Michael as Dickie Moore as William B. Davidson as Henry Koiker as Harry Hayden as Marilyn Knowlden as Regis Toomey as Holmes Herbert as Christian Rub as mbia Pictures Corpora- m the film " Hidden' layers in which are: Dr. Stephen Garfield' Virginia Garfield Steve Garfield, Jnr. George Foster Gilbert Weston Henry Downey Imogene Foster Jim Mayton Dr. Augustus Morley, " Mister Chris " Jack Doyce, star footballer, dies in full view of eit^hty-four i thousand spectators—and the doctor says he has been murdered! How was it done 7 Who did it? Inspector SI{\de (Leslie Banks) of Scotland Yard • wise-cracks his way to the answers in this baffling story, adapted from the General Film Distributors* ne%v film DEATH IN A CROWD THE game was on, and the crowd in the Arsenal Stadium at Highbury roared with excitement. It was a battle between two famous teams, and they were evenly matched enough for it to be a fight to a finish. The home team was Arsenal itself, and they wore playing superb football. The visitors were the Trojans, best-known of all amateur clubs. Up in the broadcasting box was E. V. H. Emmctt, the Gaumont-British News com- mentator, and by his, side was the one and only George Allison, Arsenal's manager. Emmett was talking fast into the micro- phone. " Drake gives it to Bryn Jones, who clears to Bastin on the left wing. Now it goes back to Bryn Jones. Torburn punches away." The crowd let out a huge sigh. Arsenal had very nearly scored. "Drake has it on the right," Emmett went on quickly, "and he's going to shoot. Oh, a marvellous save! Torburn clears the ball again, and Doyce gets it. He's away up the field, carrying the war into the Arsenal camp." "That fellow Doyce is dangerous," George Allison remarked softly. "Dangerous is right, George," Emmett re- plied. "He's only just joined the Trojans, and he's worth his weight in gold to them. He's in the Aisenal half now, and the defence is closing in on him. He lifts the ball to the centre of the field, and it looks as though No. the Trojans have lost it. Kirchen takes it out on the wing, he races on—he shoots!" The crowd roared, then was suddenly quiet again. " Yet another magnificent save! And a corner against the Trojans." Emmett suddenly stopped, and there was a few seconds' silence. Then he went on: "Look! What's happened to Doyce?" "He must be ill," George Allison answered. Doyce was lying full length on the field. He had collapsed at a time when no one else was anywh-ie near him. The referee blew his whistle, and the players ran to where Doyco was lying. " Doyce has just collapsed like a log," Emmett explained into the microphone. "It's r.ither mysterious. I didn't see him get hurt or anything." A doctor hmried out across the field, his small black bag in his hand. He knelt down beside Doj'ce and gave a brief examination. Then he looked up. "He's dead," he said briefly to the referee. "I'm sorry, b>it I'm afraid the match must be stopped." In a largo shed behind Scotland Yard, a re- hearsal was in progress for a forthcoming police concert. The producer was the famous Inspector Slade. A couple of dozen perspiring constables were trying to do a dance, and had ballet skirls tied round their middles. They weie supposed to be the chonis. Inspector Slade watched them with disgust. To him they looked like a flock of cheeses. With a peremptory wave of his hand lie silenced the piano and looked at his bunch of beauties grimly. "Ladies," he said with biting scorn, "those skirts weren't provided for you by nature. They are meant to enhance your natural beauty. If you want to allure your audience, you must swish them about a bit—waggle the torso, so to speak. Do you understand?" "Yes, sir," replied the chorus respectfully. " Good! We've only got until Wednesday, ladies. The fair name of the Metropolitan Police beauty chorus is at stake. You've goi; to make yourselves fascinating. Now, hero is how it should go." He signed to the pianist and started to dance. Hardly had he done half a dozen step^ than the door opened and a voice said: "Is Inspector Slade here?" It was Sergeant Clinton, Slade's right-hand man. Slade turned to him impatiently. February 24th, 1940.