Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

Page 7 text:

THE SPECTATOR } Thus admonished, J. Heresford Parke, head reporter of the Daily Review, marched sullenly along with his captors. They led him by a tortuous route through the woods, with which they were evidently familiar, and in their retreat used every precaution to avoid attention. At length the party reached a cabin of rough-hewn logs, ugly enough in appear- ance, but certainly as stout as it was uncouth. It was now late afternoon, and the shadows of the woods made it almost dark. Parke was led by his captors into the cabin, which was as bare inside as on the exterior, except for a few rough chairs, a table, and an open fireplace. It was forbidding in the extreme, and did not serve to lessen the alarm which had been steadily arising in the mind of Parke since his sudden apprehension. Binding his feet as well as his hands with stout hemp cords, the desperadoes threw him in a chair, and then seated themselves around the fire and lighted their pipes. MYSTERIOUS ROBBERY—PROBABLE MURDER. RESIDENCE OF EDMUND HOWE, BANKER, ROBBED—DAUGHTER HAS DISAP- PEARED—PROBABLY AB- DUCTED AND MUR- DERED BY ROB- BERS. READBURG IN FURORE OF EXCITEMENT. DETECTIVES HOT ON THE TRAIL. This afternoon, between the hours of 3 and 5, the large safe in the residence of Edmund Howe, the well known Read- burg banker, was rifled by five masked men. Mr. Howe was absent at the time on business out of town, and only his wife and daughter, Virginia, and a few servants, were in the house. The daughter has disappeared, presumably stolen away by the thieves and either held for ransom or murdered. The finan- cial loss is about $25,000 in bills and coin. Detective Montague and his dep- uties are hot on the trail of the robbers, who are known to be not far away. Fuller particulars later,

Page 6 text:

2 THE SPECTATOR that he trudged along the grass-grown road beside the lake, and finally, selecting a depression near the lake front shaded by a mammoth oak, he threw himself on the grass with a sigh of utmost comfort. How long he would have lain there, smoking and dozing, is hard to tell; suffice it to say that his rest was not of long duration. The soft splash of oars and the swish of the prow of a boat recalled him to this mundane sphere. Cautiously he raised his head until he could peer over the edge of the slight embankment which lay between him and the lake. “ Wonder what the deuce they are doing with that woman ? ” was the question he asked himself as a startling sight met his eyes. Far over on the other side of the lake two men in a boat had stopped rowing and were carefully attaching stones with pieces of rope to the body of what seemed to be a woman. She was limp as a rag, and no doubt but what she was dead entered the mind of J. Heres- ford Parke. Intently he watched the astonishing spectacle, undecided whether to run for assistance or to remain and see the thing through, ultimately to write up an astounding tale for the Review. His dream would now be realized. His fame would be spread broadcast as the writer of the greatest “scoop” in newspaper history. He would ferret out the whole matter himself. His rosy dreams were interrupted. A pair of strong arms imprisoned his own to his side, and a gruff voice said : “ Wal, youngster, takin’ it all in, be ye? Mebbe you think yer mighty sharp. Mebbe you be, but not sharp enough fer us. If yer got as much sense as yer have crust, ye’ll just waltz along wid us sorter peaceable like, and not ask no ques- tions. Otherwise—” a dark look which told more than words accompanied a sinister movement toward his hip pocket, where Parke could distinctly see the outline of a bulldog revolver. After his first shock of surprise, Parke glanced coolly around at his captors. There were three of them, all bearded, villain- ous looking types of men, and evidently men who would stand for no trifling. “ Well, gentlemen, after your rather rough but hearty greeting 1 might as well inform you as to whom 1 am, why I am here, and also ask you— ” “Stow yer gab, young feller, or it’ll be the worse fer ye, ” growled the stubby-bearded fellow who had first cap- tured him. “ Ye'll come along wid us, and mebbe arterwards yer can give yer fishy little tale, whatever it be. ”

Page 8 text:

4 THE SPECTATOR The above astounding column appeared that evening in the News. The facts are essentially as given in the extract from the News, hence further narrative of the event will be needless. The absence of Parke worried the editor of the Review considerably, but not for a moment did any suspicion against his nephew enter his head. Immediately the detective force of the city went to work on the case. After their first shock at the audacity of the daylight crime, ten of the posse, under the leadership of Mon- tague, the detective chief, made for the forest around Lake Meteor. They carefully scoured the woods about the lake, and then plunged deeper into the forest. At length, getting a clue from some footprints in the soft ground, and branches broken from the saplings, they neared the small cabin in which Parke was imprisoned a few hours before. Approaching cautiously, they peered through the dim panes of the long unwashed windows, and inside saw an interesting spectacle. There were five uncouth-looking men, with stubby beards and broken pipes, earnestly conversing with a handsome youth. They were not long in recognizing him as J. Heresford Parke, reporter for the Daily Review. From the evidence before them the detectives did not for a moment doubt but that Parke was the ringleader of the gang, and, being men accus- tomed to great surprises in this manner, after their first shock of surprise they made up their minds that the gang should be arrested at once, but if any escaped, it should not be J. Heresford Parke. The gang within were so engrossed in their conversation that no precaution had been made in case of attack; in fact, they believed such a thing almost impossible, in their lonely, secluded retreat. Probably they would have been perfectly right in this had they not, by dragging with them the unfor- tunate Parke, left unmistakable traces behind them. Suddenly, without any previous warning, the door was rudely broken down, and into the room dashed the half score of detectives and deputies, armed to the teeth. The resulting confusion is indescribable, and in the midst of the melee the lamp was struck by a pistol ball, and the room plunged into pitchy darkness. When order was at last restored, and a light produced, the members of the posse found themselves clasped in each other’s arms, each thinking the other to be one of the hunted thieves. But one was caught by Detective Montague himself, and when the light of a dark lantern was