Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1929)

Photoplay Magazine — Advertising Section 125 "Any one of the ways sounds logical," said Ryan. "And ain't a damned bit," said Smith peevishly. Ryan looked up quickly. It must be a pretty tough nut to crack ii the captain was going to get on his ear about it! "Say, did that fellow at the cigar store tell you about what time he saw Hardell and Seibert?" "Sure. There's nothing oS color there. He says it was around 12:30 . . . or nearly that." "Was his clock, or watch, right?" " He says the men working on that new hotel across from his place come in and get their midnight lunch at twelve o'clock. They had all gone, even the stragglers, and they only get a half-hour off . . ." Ryan wondered why his chief's mind went back to what appeared to be a closed question. But all he got to salve his curiosity was: WELL, that makes a sweet dish sweeter! Did you check up whether Beaumont or West wore gloves that night . . . and MacDougal?" "Vep. Beaumont wore driving gauntlets. West also. MacDougal has a pair he keeps in his office tor odd jobs, or cold . . . why?" " No prints on the rapier," said Smith briefly. Then he ran his hand up through his hair, after throwing his pencil down in disgust. "That's the hell of it! Every time I get an idea that might lead to something, there's more than one answer to it! I'm beginning to think it was a gang up! It beats anything I ever worked on! Four people on that set, when there should ha\-e been but one besides Hardell ! Four people with motives for a possible murder . . . or possible motivesfor a murder . . . put it either way you want to! Three willing to hang on their own testimony that they are guilty! Three people wearing gloves when we find one thing . . . one place . . . where there aren't fingerprints! Otherwise fingerprints, clues, all over the place! Damn it!" "It's sure a muddle!" "Muddle! It's a farce! It's a tragedy! I might as well go to hoeing potatoes for a living if I don't solve it, because it'll go down in history . . . mark my words!" He stopped, and for a long moment sat staring into space. Then, with a return of his familiar self and his customary confidence, he said: "WeU. my tantrum's over, Ryan. I'm not going to let this thing get me down! Something's got to bust loose pretty soon. I'm going to forget everything in the shape of a clue, or evidence that we've gathered, and start following that hunch. . . ." CHAPTER XII. AND the ne.Kt morning . . . "What the hell's broke loose in this movie murder?" "Everything," said Smith laconically, watching with some satisfaction the swelling muscles of the chief's fat jowls. The chief tilted his revolving chair back, and gazed sternly into the eyes of the captain of detectives. He said : " You remember the Taylor case? Smith grunted expressi\-ely. "My boy, we can't have another murder mystery left up in the air!" Smith took one of Rosenthal's cigars from his pocket and handed it to the man at the desk. "Try that." he said enigmatically. .-Uter an instant in which the chief eyed him impatiently he did as bidden. The first whiff, and a slow smile of enjoyment spread itself effulgently ON'er his heavy face. "Ah . . ." "Chief, everything about this damn case is like that cigar," said Smith. "What'ye mean?" "De Luxe! It's the prettiest murder I ever saw! Spread it with a lavish hand, if you get DRAWING err EC/ PLEAXLREWITH PCCflT WHAT would you give to be this artist — earning a big income — enjoying studio life? He has learned the secret of forming simple lines into finished illustrations. It was only a short time ago that this young artist filled out a coupon like the one below and mailed it to the Federal School of Illustrating. Now he is not only trained in modern art on which magazines are spending millions every year, but he has also had thorough instruction in all branches of illustration. 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