Judge — May 21, 1932 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

“Isn't it about time that somebody started to master-mind this busi- ness? I really think that—" A trap-door caused a finish other than she had intended. “Lucretia!” I remonstrated, Don't be so wasteful. Save somebody for a rainy day.” But she was in the mood, and I could detect that she was keeping something from me. Was it the surprise she had been giving dark hints of? Sure enough! The bear-skin in front of the hearth suddenly rose up, and out stepped S. S. Celery- Queen Van Lunch, in person, dis- sruised as a Chinese monster. On his forehead was the red mark of the Secret Seven, around his neck were the missing pear and the Rajah’s Ruby ygleamed in hi “Hello, everybody!” he said bre ily. “Case of Murder in the Ag- yrevate, eh? Well, folks, if some- one in a condition to do so will be yood enourh to lend me a silk hand- kerchief and a typewriter, I'll solve these mysteries blindfolded.” ‘ow are you satisfied?” whis- | “We're all so bound to exaggerate things nowadays.” pered my wife, triumphantly. : She goes on trial three weeks from V this coming Mon And that will “Well, of all things!” cried Sue. be fun too. “Reminds me,” said Mrs. Ghould, chatelaine of Creepy Hollow, “of the days when I used to spell out ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’ at my xoverness’s knee. Didn't you adore that, Lucretia?” Still irked at the non-appearance of Muggins (who, we later covered, was the victim of a pract: choke in the broom-closet), Lucreti: continued pressing buttons. Reck- y, at random. As a result things to happen in real earnest: the infernal device up in the billiard room went off, with a squawk from one of the master detectiv up there; reports from the cellar— hree sharp ones—seemed to indicate that some sleuth down there had bit the dust-bin; the mummy in the vrandfather clock got busy; the Suit of Armor in the hall attended to Mr. Snodgrass; and the Hindu Hands came over the back of the davenport at Mrs. Clews, who sprang up just in time to receive a shower of tar- antulas from the chandelier. In the incidental running-about the Chief Inspector was last seen being closely shadowed about the house by the Chief Specter. I was about to interpose a word of caution, when Mrs. Clews, trifle addled by it all, said plaintively: lessl a comicbooks.com