Bennett High School - Beacon Yearbook (Buffalo, NY)

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i . eg , Ibtgs . ,f '77 I jg Q I X J To Q - Q , J K ' if ' X 1 x ' K ' I , Q Price Tag f By Ralph Wallenhorst ENTS lank, lengthy body was draped over the arm of an overstuffed stateroom chair as I entered. For a moment his lean face was turned toward meg then his gaze flicked back to an idol on our mantel. It was a curious figuref-a paunchy old fellow, squatting crosslegged on a rounded base, The shoulders were deep blue, with orange dots on the breast. The thin, red lips were twisted in a weird grin. Well, Watson, what do you make of it? Kent's voice had a ring. Make of what? That idol? It's not a pretty blue, rather shabby,-- 'like an antique. Precisely what it is. So f f f say, are we in trouble again? What's the matter? I was suddenly suspicious, for when Kent calls me Watson, I know he has been reading Sherlock Holmes. And whenever he reads Sherlock Holmes, he mixes himself up in the most intricate mystery he can find. Well, yes, we are in trouble. That, impreSsively , is the Raschmund Idol, value Si0,000. Whatl 'kExactly. Early this morning I went down to get the mail. The steward got things mixed, gave me that cardboard box that's on the mantel beside the idol. The idol was in it. The morning paper carried a picture of it. It was stolen from the British Museum! That steward has got us in a marvelous mystery. I'm going to call him up now. He lifted the receiver, got his connection, and proceeded to bawl out the steward very thoroughly. 'kWell, Watson, we've got to work fast. The box was supposed to go to Mr. Renkers, room 356. Let's get started. Within the next hour we purchased at the curio shop the following articles: One deep blue idol, closely resembling the Raschmund Buddha. One halffpint can of red paint, the same shade as the single stripe that ran down the idol's back. Two thin camelfhair brushes.

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XX ,K f X ORIENT Golden Chinese temples, Buildings made of steelg 'J ,J Ancient junk boats softly ,TD K Sway at even keel. J Womexi stoop in rice fields .AW L Humming tuneless songsg F' t Gardens sweet with perfume, ,Q Sound of Chinese gongs, 4 Idols humbly worshipped, Buddhas made of soilg X Ancient land of mystery Made real hy human toil. N , ,,..,- Vlvfary Almand i ...f- ..7'-'xx no X

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C-Cge menneff german 7 W'hen we arrived back at the ship we were tired, dead tired. We had to explain to the steward and return to him Mr. Renker's box. But it was great fun,-with a tinge of danger. Explaining to the steward was easy. We felt sure of the box's erratic ilight. The moment we arrived in the stateroom, Kent called the British Museum. They promised to send police to investigate immediately. We felt pre' pared for anything. And, indeed, we soon had need to be. Mr. Renkers is not a handsome man. He has an oily, shifty look. And when he is startled abruptly, his hand involuntarily moves toward his hip pocket. Too, his eyes flicker and narrow, and he spins about on his heel at the slighest noise. A most unwholesome man, Mr. Renkers. He had come aboard with us at New York. And here, in India we had seen little of him. His visit was unexpected and highly significant. He was polite, but unnecessarily curt. Nervous, he seemed, but it passed rapidly. Hello, may I come in? I mumbled something unceremoniously and waved him to a seat. Then l collapsed into a chair. There's really nothing to be nervous about, Mr. Renkersf' Kent's remark startled me out of my apathy. Well then, boys, let's mince no words. Our guest leaned forward, and his hat slipped from his hand unnoticed. You know I'm here For the idol. I know you've got it. Now, where is it? If we refuse to tell? Tourists are not respected in India. How do you know we have the idol? . Quite simple. You made the mistake of forgetting that every article in a shop has a price set upon it. The genuine Raschmund Idol has no price tag on the base! Yes, ruminated Kent, half aloud. Better luck next time. Well, are you going to tell? I've decided not to. And your companion? Addressing me. Ditto A moment later he rose, leveled a miniature cannon at us, and had the telephone receiver to his ear. ' For the next ten minutes my nerves were those of a man tottering on the brink of a precipice. My balance was not restored when I saw a group of ragged natives enter the room. Tie them up, boys, Renkers cut out his order in a crisp voice. The band surrounded us, producing thin cords, taut and stiff. Halt! Reach for the sky! In the doorway stood a uniformed Museum Attendant. And behind him, with leveled service revolvers were ranged the police. fConti'nued on page 47,