Judge — June 13, 1925 — page 28: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“If you're going to act that way—"" said Angela, snapping on the light. “Very well, since you insist on going through with it,” I grumbled, raising up on my elbow. “I arise and go to my bureau drawer, where the revolver is hidden. Arm in arm we descend the stiars. I hold the intruder with his hands in the air while you telephone the police, or else I am dramatically shot,” I yawned, “depending on the author.” There was a loud report at the foot of the bed. I leaped into the air and clutched the bedpost dazedly. “One!” said Angela, tucking the folded newspaper under her arm and turning away grimly. “Then I'm not dead?” I gasped. “Not very,” commented Angela. scanning the wall. There was a second explosive swat. “Two! “That's no way to hunt burglars,” I remarked, lighting a cigarette and watching her. Angela swung wildly at a small table with the folded paper, and sent a vase flying intoa corner. “Missed,” she said. I curled my legs under me tailor fashion. “Or perhaps you are not hunting burglars, after all?” I in- quired politely, blowing a smoke ring. “No, as a matter of fact, I'm after pelicans,” she replied with thin lips. “Pelicans, and spotted leopards. At first I wasn't going to tell you.” “Thave it! You are hunting mos- quitoes!” I announced at last. “Some one forgot to put back the HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED : . screen.” I leaned against the pillow . ie . sleepily. ‘Careless of him Van Dycx—Say, Reub, where does this Velasquez guy get off with this Angela turned and regarded me junk as court painter? * thoughtfully for a moment, and then Revpens—Aw—he's got a pull. brought down the swatter suddenly A Shot in the Dark [> just mounted the cab of a runaway locomotive clad only in my pyjamas, and was guiding it frantically through a hotel lobby filled with screaming women and children, when Angela shook me vigorously by the arm. “Wake up,” she whispered. “‘Lis- ten. Do you hear anything?” “Burglars,”” I mumbled sleepily. “Of course.” “Don't be stupid,” said Angela. “He's just thrust a foot through the dining-room window, and is at present straddling the sill and playing his searchlight onto the china closet. I know all about it,” and I turned over again and shut my eyes. “But it isn't burglars,” nagged s Angela, Cook (in farce, to mistress)—I wish to gire notice. “It is,” Linsisted. “It always is. Lapy 1x Front (excitedly)—I shall be pleased to engage you ata I've read it all time and again.” pound a week and every erening out. comicbooks.com