A B Davis High School - Maroon and White Yearbook (Mount Vernon, NY)

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MAROON AND WHITE Mr. Godfrey relieved Mrs. Magus by telling her that .Iemmy would be very glad to relate his story. The small creature's eyes twinkled ma- liciously as he glanced up at them. The poor woman led the way to the parlor, and when they were all seated com- fortably, Mr. Jemmy Blum commenced his story. Well , he began, to make a long story short, I started on this lay just after Mag- us' death, when a friend of mine in the fortune-telling line told me that Mrs. Magus was a spiritualist. This gave me my clue, so I--ah-got into the house. I-low? demanded Godfrey. That's telling. Go on, then. I got inside the house, looked over my ground and decided on my line of opera- tion. I wanted something neat and effec- tive, and I worked on it a good while be- fore I had it going right. There were so many little details. It took a lot of prac- tice-such things do-and then I had to remodel the inside of the desk-shorten up the drawers and make room for myself behind them. Lucky I'm little, and the desk is one of the biggest I ever saw. So you were in the desk? queried the detective. i'Sure , he chuckled. Where else? Then you decided that you would go through with the plan? Yes , said .Iemmy slyly. I saw that Mrs. Magus was scairt to death, and I was afraid if I didn't demonstrate for her, I wouldn't get the money. How did you know she had it? I knew that she was well off. But the odor of tobacco? I-Ie got a vial out of his pocket, uncork- ed it, and again Mrs. Magus caught the sweet and heavy odor of Peter Magus' cigar. ' And here's a fine point I'm proud of, had this made from a said Jemmy. I dozen of Magus' cigars I found in a box in his room. So the smell was just right. while of showing some I thought for a smoke, but didn't dare risk it. But the note, Godfrey said. That was the cleverest of all. Paqe One Hundred and Thirty-two f Jemmy chuckled and glanced at God- rey. Ah, you'd like to know, wouldn't you? You never will. But it all depends on it. If I put the acid in before the salt, the writing disappears at the end of two hours: if I put the salt in before the acid, the writing doesn't appear for the same length of time. It took me five years to work it out. But the writing didn't all appear at once, Mrs. Magus now objected. Of course not, said Jemmy impatient- ly. It wasn't all written at once, was it? It appeared just like it was written. I-Iow could you time it? Why , answered Jemmy still more impatiently, I timed the writing for eight- thirty-Eve. But the chair? Jemmy shot a disgusted look at God- frey. Any faker on Sixth Avenue can do that, he said. A hook on thread. Any- think else? Accept my compliments, Jemmy. It was cleverly done. I'm almost sorry you didn't get away with it. Oh , answered Jemmy. with studied indifference, that's all in the day's work, you know. But thank you all the same. Godfrey. He was flicking the ashes from the end of his cigar as he spoke, and Mrs. Magus noticed he didn't meet Godfrey's eyes. The latter looked at him an instant: then, with a low exclamation, sprang to his feet and snapped open the bag in which Mrs. Magus had stowed the packets Jemmy had returned to her. He ripped one of them open, and disclosed not ten thousand dollars in currency, but a neat bundle of blank paper! Jemmy was looking at him now, and his face was alight with triumph. How did you know I was here? God- frey demanded. I didn't, glrinned Jemmy, but I wasn't taking any chances. Who was your pal? That's telling, he answered easily. Godfrev turned to Mrs. Magus and queried, Have you any servants? Only one, she answered. INETEEN THIRTYTHREE

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MAROON AND WHITE FOUR FINGERS Mrs. Magus. a thin and nervous-look- ing woman, was sitting quietly in a small. comfortable room sewing. This small room seemed to have been fitted up as an office. Its principal piece of furniture was a massive, roll-top desk. which surely must have been the largest that was able to be made. An office chair of the usual swivel type stood before it. lt was about eight- thirty-five that night when she decided to stop sewing. She put her sewing down in the desk drawer Qsince her husband had died. she used it for her own personal usej and was about to shut the door. when she was attracted by a strong odor of tobacco. Tempted by curiosity. she shut the door quietly and sat down nervously in her chair. Soon her curiosity turned into fear, for she was positive that that was the brand of cigars that the deceased Mr. Peter Magus had smoked. Mrs. Magus picked her way cautiously across the room and was frozen with terror when she saw the chair before the desk turn deliberately. No sooner had this happened than she saw writing slowly appear on a clean sheet of paper on the desk. The writing ran as follows: My dear wife: .It is my wish that you leave at once on this desk the sum of fifty thousand dollars in currency. Mrs. Magus could stand it no longer. Uttering a shrill shriek, she ran out of the room and down the stairs. and would have kept on running if she had not bumped into the maid. The maid's face was that of a woman. no longer young, and yet scarcely middle- aged. not a repulsive face, rather attrac- tive in a way. except for a certain hard- ness of expression which told of lost illu- sions. As she held up both hands, con- spicuously seen was her left hand, which revealed only four fingers: her little finger was missing. I am so sorry, Marie, that I rushed into you so, finally uttered the breath- less Mrs. Magus. Marie nodded in an unconcerned way. and was about to go to the room NINETEEN THIRTY-THREE whence Mrs. Magus had departed in such great haste. Mrs. Magus called in an imploring voice, Marie, don't go up there, please. Why? lf you value your life, you will not go. With a sly, half sneery smile, Marie shrugged her shoulders and departed. Mrs. Magus was puzzled now. Marie's shining white teeth seen through her sneery smile kept coming into her mind many minutes later. Finally, as a last resort to relieve her mind, Mrs. Magus rose quietly. and phoned a detective agency. One half hour later, a tall, heavily set man appeared, who introduced himself as Mr. Godfrey. Mrs. Magus let him in quietly and told him her whole story. ln a gruff voice he said. Show me the room. Mrs. Magus trembled as she saw him take a revolver from his coat. Stealthily they both groped their way up the stairs. Finally, Mrs. Magus' voice wavered, Here is the room. Mr. Godfrey's grip on his revolver tightened. Cautiously he opened the door and scanned the room with his gleaming eyes. There was a shadow! Bing! Crash! He's gotten away! Tweet-. Get him. Pete! Mrs. Magus swooned, but Godfrey had no time to revive herg he must catch this criminal. He didn't run very far, for at the head of the stairs he saw Pete, his as- sistant. holding a small and wizened crea- ture, whose arm he had linked to his own. Mrs. Magus, who had come to, weakly found her way to the hall. She started and almost swooned again when she be- held this creature forindeed, he was a sight. But Mr. Godfrey came to the rescue, and assured her that everything was all right. He said. Now, Mrs. Magus. allow me to introduce you to the ghost of Peter Magus-otherwise Mr. Jemmy Blum, the Tom Thumb of con men. Mrs. Magus was amazed. but she was still puzzled as to how everything hap- pened. Page One Hundred and Thirty-on

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Is there anything particularly queer about her? Why, no, answered Mrs. Magus, she's rather good-looking, and, -oh, 'yes-, the little finger of her left hand is missing. Godfrey grabbed the telephone, called headquarters, and gave terse orders to send a detail at once to the Magus house, to watch all ferries and trains, and to search all the thieves' haunts in the city for Kate Travis- Lady Kate. Headquarters seemed to know perfectly whom he meant. You won't get her, said Jemmy calmly. as Godfrey hung up the receiver. She's got a good, half hour's start. Come along, said Godfrey roughly. MAROON AND WHITE Mrs. Magus could see that he was deeply chagrined. Good night, Mrs. Magus. l've made a botch of this thing. I've got to catch that woman. But he hasn't caught her yet, and when Jemmy finishes his term, he probably will find his share of that fifty thousand dol- lars waiting for him. Nevertheless, the next day Mrs. Magus' sewing room was rid of that massive, roll- top desk. She locked the room and never again did she enter it, and most assuredly hired her next servant with five fingers on each hand! V1viAN A. ENELLO. Class of 1933. STORM Carrying a sqwirming puppy in her arms, little Elizabeth trudged up the dark. winding stairway to the lighthouse tur- ret. The door fell to the floor with a heavy clang as the child and her com- panion emerged from the passage into the faintly lighted tower. Accompanying the metallic grating of the lock, a peal of thunder rumbled menacingly and a flash of lighting pierced the dark bowl of the night without. Quickly, Elizabeth turned to the curved window-seat where, out of the depths of blue plush cushions, she and Toby looked upon the storm. This was her refuge: here she enjoyed security during an interlude that the elements crowded with their play. Quick drops of liquid silver spattered against, and then rolled down the leaden panes. The rushing, roaring wind sar- donically made mock of the damp land. Sparsely scattered pine trees writhed and twisted convulsively in their gritty, sandy beds. Elizabeth shivered and hugged Toby closer for comfort, while the little terrier whimpered in the deafening crashes. The NINETEEN THIRTY-THREE windows rattled under the shock: instant- ly a transitory blaze of electricity shot the sky--beautiful pieces of sky-into blind- ing daylight. The rocks, strewn with bits of driftwood, shone wet and revelled in their nakedness. Grains of stinging wet sand were whipped from their beds to meet briny spume. The ocean had transformed into myriads of churning, chaotic cesspools that ceaselessly swirled around lost pieces of wreckage. Ebony waves dashed white. showering foam upon rugged rock altars. The barren, windswept, ever shifting dunes resembled strange fantasies beneath the display. Elizabeth thrilled to the storm-call, flat- tening a cold nose to the barring glass. The wind was abating now and plain- tively sobbing night-songs, while dark- ness, the accompaniment, pressed closer to its world. Soon only the vigilant beam of the lighthouse beacon was visible to the little girl and her dog. IMOGEN BOWERS GROESCHEL. Class of 1933. Page One Hundred and Thirty-Ihre