Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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the reflector CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUAR Y, 9 2 5 “I peen go and get meinself some breakfast ' he said apologetically. And he left as fast as his short legs could comfortably carry him. When he reached his stateroom, he quickly pull- ed out a small notebook and wrote in it hastily: “Short trip—returning immediately.” Just so I don’t forget,” he added with a smile. Chapter II. High Comissioner Oakley lounged comfort- ably in his favorite Morris chair at the Bache- lors’ Club in London. He carelessly fingered a legal document, and smiled to himself as he pictured some amusing scene in his mind. Again he scanned the sheet and began reading it for a third time: A friendly wager of 1,000 pounds between the Hon. Montague Ashland and the Hon. High Commissioner Arthur Oakley depends upon the following conditions: 1. That the Hon. Montague Ashland must leave Great Britain at some time between the dates of June 1, 1924 and August 1, 1924. 2. That the said journey must be at least one hundred (100) miles by sea from any part of Great Britain. .'3. That the Hon. Montague Ashland must make this trip without the knowledge of the Hon. High Commissioner or any of his sub- ordinates. 4. That the Hon. Montague must have proof of having made such a journey. The fulfillment of all of the aforesaid pro- visions insure a victory for the Hon. Montague Ashland. A victory for the Hon. High Commissioner provides: 1. That the Hon. High Commissioner, through the work of any of his Inspectors of Scotland Yard, must secure proof of the where- abouts of the Hon. Montague Ashland during said journey. 2. That the proof, in both eases, must be of such a nature that it can be brought before judges to determine its validity. Signed “It was one jolly debate wdiile it lasted,” one was saying. “And it started in a manner most friendly, and from a mere casual remark.” Another took up the story from here, and. in his eagerness to get it out, he floundered ter- ribly with the details. “The Commissioner up and boasts that his force could keep track of a person no matter where he went; and Monty flares up and says he’s pretty shifty and he guesses he’d be one devil to try to track. One word after another, and pretty soon there was nothing left to do but to try it. winner take all. And if you’ll just take a peak at the Commissioner over there, you’ll see he ain’t losing any sleep over the outcome.” Oakley was confident, and he made no effort to hide it. His ro’l was set on Leslie Earle, the man he had selected for the ease. As the newcomer sauntered over to his chair, Oakley just had to spill out some of that confidence. “Monty may be able to lead a merry chase, but I’ll bet before this trip is over, he’ll be on friendly terms with my man without knowing his blunder.” His listener only shrugged his shoulders and said rather wisely, “You are rawther confident in the extreme. But since I traveled through America I find that the best attitude is to say T reside in Missouri; the remits must be brought within my vision.’ ” Chapter III. Mr. Brainard was very much surprised when, as the days passed, he did not again encounter his cheerful Saxon friend. He had believed that he would not be able to get rid of that person after their first meeting. Indeed, just out of- curiosity, he finally went to look for him; yet lie could not locate that individual, for all the immensity of his body. Mr. Oberstaum had disappeared completely. Some hours before docking at New York, a short, stocky Scotchman strolled past the light- ly dozing Brainard. As the boat docked he was right behind the elderly gentleman. He was close after him as he entered the lobby of the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, and, as the result of a quick lifting of the lapel of his coat, succeeded in securing a room next to the man lie was per- sistently following without even having to sign for it. Not that he entered it, but it might be of use in the future. The following morning, Mac was present in the lobby when Mr. Brainard was signing his name for a registered letter. “I must see that letter,” he muttered to him- self. “It might be important and it might not.” The next day he made it his business to secure entrance to Mr. Brainard’s room while that person was out. “It’s a gambler’s chance,” MacDonald mum- bled to himself. The letter might not amount to shucks, while he might be out stealing a lap on me.” MacDonald had no difficulty find- ing the letter. Brainard had taken no pains to hide it, merely slipping it in his brief case. Mac pulled it out eagerly and read the envelope. PAGE THIRTEEN

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON IIIGII SCII O O L F E II R U A R Y. 19 2 5 A HIDE AM) SEEK IVAGER As evening approached, all appearances led to the belief that Southern England was soon to be in the siege of another heavy mist and fog cloud. These periods caused great depres- sions in the business of the inflicted areas, for the people were wont to remain in the security of their homes because the danger of robbery was ever present to both the pedestrians and the storekeepers. No sooner had night fallen than a plainly- dressed, elderly man sauntered in a leisurely manner from the lobby of a cheap hotel in a lowly district in Southampton. At the side- walk he halted and gazed up and down the street as though undecided in which direction to go. Though he finally decided to go towards the city, what he had seen had in no way in- fluenced his decision, for the gathering fog to- gether with the darkness of night made it quite impossible to see for any great distance. He had traversed but a few steps when a rolly- po’.ly individual slowly slipped out of a neigh- boring hall way and proceeded to follow that elderly gentleman. “Yah, dey make goot beer in Milwaukee,” he chuckled. He scurried across the street as he noticed the elderly man hailing a passing taxicab. The gentleman seemed to have chang- ed his mind; perhaps the weather was too nasty for walking. At any rate, he seated himself as comfortably as was possible in such rocking cabs, and through the mouthpiece directed the driver to Dock----of the Cunard Line. After what seemed to be endless rocking and jolting, the cab finally halted at his destination. Al- though it may have been unusual for people to board ships at night, the manner in which this gentleman was received would indicate that he had been expected. The Aquitania was well out to sea before the elderly gentleman ventured out on deck. He was still dressed in a plain black suit. He was quite spry for a gray haired man. A polite porter assisted him to his armchair and careful- ly arranged the blankets about the gentleman’s feet. Then the gentleman looked about him to view his neighbor loungers. At his right he met the gaze of the rolly-polly Dutchman. “Goot morgen. Mein name iss Hans Ober- staum. Maybe we was goot friends yet?” The gentleman nodded politely. “Good morning. I am pleased to meet you. My name is .John Brainard.” Having been thus encouraged Mr. Ober- straum proceeded to call loudly for a porter. “Moof mein chair a little ober nearer,” he or- dered the porter who had hastily answered his calls. The elderly man looked amusedly at the gesticulations of the Dutchman. After the chair had been manoeuvered to the satisfaction of the Dutchman, this cheerful character seated himself and proceeded to further his acquaint- ance with his new made friend. “Nice day, yah?” he began. “Yes, it is rather refreshing,” was the un- interested reply. “I peen going to Milwaukee,” Mr. Ober- staum continued persistently. “Yah, dey say dey make very goot beer dere. Where you peen going?” Mr. Brainard glanced sharply at his neigh- bor before he gave his reply. “Well, 1 have a little business in New York. I shall return immediately. More of a sea voyage, you know.” “Oh,” the Dutchman drawled knowingly. “Yah, I stob at New York for a while too.” Then followed a few minutes of silence in which neither one, apparently, could think of anything to say. Finally Mr. Oberstaum rose 1 and prepared to leave. PAGE TWELVE

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THE REFLECTOR C L I F T O N HIGH SC H O O L FEBRUA R Y. 9 2 3 “Registered letter, as I thought,” lie mus- ed. But the real value was the rest of it: Hon. Montague Ashland, personal letter Care of Waldorf-Astoria Hotel New York City, L’. S. A. The letter bore the stamp mark of London. “Montague Ashland.” he ejaculated in sur- prise. “He had the nerve to sign his own name? Why of course. My mind must be slowing up. Why didn’t I think of that before? This is his proof. Because it is a personal let- ter, he is the only one who can receive it, having to sign his name in the presence of the postman. Therefore he must have signed his real name on the hotel register. That's my case.” Without even waiting to read the inside of the letter. Mac slipped it back to its proper position and rushed down to the lobby to have an interview with that important register. By the same mys- terious lifting of his coat lapel, he was able to borrow the register, which he returned in less than ten minutes to its proper place. Now that his work was done, Mac Donald purchased passage for home. It was while he was signing his name on the ship’s registry that he also encountered the name of John Brainard. “Well, of all coincidences,” he chuckled. “He must have gone to buy his ticket while I was in his room. That means I had better keep out of his sight.” The return trip was a cheerful one for Mr. Brainard. He was sure in his belief that his gray beard and gray hair, together with his assumed name and secrecy in the manner of his departure, had insured a victory for him. There was no longer need for secrecy. He had reach- ed his destination, left it, and was already on the wav home with his letter of proof securely planted in the inner pocket of his coat. Yes, he would go straight to Oakley’s office in Scot- land Yard and collect his money. Not that he needed it, but just to satisfy his own particular whim. Through a little influence with those higher up, Brainard was able to leave the boat as soon as it had docked. He hired the speediest cab and paid an enormous sum to be rushed to the High Commissioner’s office in Scotland Yard. He burst into the office smiling. “Well, well, Art. I’m here. Have you got that 1,000 pounds handy?” He laughed with the excitement of victory. Commissioner Oak- ley looked up from his desk. His face lit up as he recognized his old friend. He jumped up and eagerly grasped Ashland’s hand. “Glad to see you again. Monty. But you don’t get that thousand until 1 hear from In- spector Earle.” “Inspector Earle?” Oakley smiled at the quizzical expression of his friend. “Likely enough you’ve met him on your trip,” he added. He looked up as a knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” he invited. The door opened to its full width to permit the entrance of a person of extended abdominal regions. “Dunner Wetter,” the newcomer ejaculated, as his eyes lit on Ashland. “If id aind my olt friend. Mister Brainard!” Ashland looked up in surprise as he recog- nized the roily polly Dutchman. He could ac- count in no way for his presence here. Oakley enjoyed the scene immensely, and finally man- aged to say, “All right, Earle. Be yourself.” “Earle?” shouted Ashland incredulously. “That’s me.” “Well, Earle, what luck did you have?” questioned his chief. “Just enough to beat my man, chief.” “I beaten?” exclaimed Ashland with re- turning confidence. “1 don’t think so. Here’s my proof.” He drew from his pocket the pre- cious letter. He continued to explain; “You’ll notice it is a registered letter addressed: Mr. Montague Ashland, personal letter,” mailed to New York. Therefore, to have it in my pos- session, I must have received it in New York where I had to be indenti tied in order to receive it. Is that proof enough?” Ashland asked triumphantly. “Yes, more than enough,” Oakley answered. “And what have you to say?” he continued, ad- dressing Inspector Earle. The Inspector in silence drew out a photograph which he handed to his superior. The Commissioner glanced at it and smiling- ly passed it over to Ashland. It was but a photograph of a page from the register of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel, for June 9. 1924. Sec- ond on the list appeared: “Hon. Montague Ash- land. London.” Ashland smiled good-naturedly: “I’m a good loser. You win, but I’m not convinced yet. You won, not because you have a good force, but because you have one corking good man Walter Mattheis, June '25. PACE FOURTEEN