Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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T HE HE F L E C T O R CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1927 It was about four A. M. when Dan came back. He immediately prepared for bed; and though he was dead tired, he was up again at seven. Mr. Hartley woke at eight and by the time he was downstairs, Dan was just leaving. “Be ready to go with me at twelve, uncle admonished Dan. “All right, but be very careful. Dan, won’t you r “Sure, but don’t you worry about me,’’ ad- vised Dan. closing the door. At exactly twelve, the two of them left the house and started in the direction of Ramsey Street. While they were walking there, Dan outlined his plan to his uncle. He was to walk forty yards behind Mr. Hartley, who would be on the edge of the curb. Thus would they pro- ceed past the spot where Mr. Smithe had varn- ished. After walking about ten yards, Dan saw an arm shoot out from the wall. He was about to call to his uncle when he saw that he was at least ten feet from the wall. The arm was quickly withdrawn and Dan was about to hurry to investigate the wall when he saw his uncle fall heavily, as though hit in the head. He ran up and examined him. On finding him still alive, he called a taxi and brought Mr. Hartley to his home. Once Mr. Hartley was put to bed and his head bathed with water, Dan called in his favorite physician. The doctor ordered absolute silence and Dan decided to sleep that night at his own home. He promised to return the first thing the next morning. The next day Dan Hardy returned as he had promised, and his uncle was sitting up in bed. “If it were not for the thick crown in your hat. I’m afraid you wouldn’t be here now,” said the doctor. “But I can’t see yet what hit him,” said Dan. “The arm that I saw shoot out from the wall had a small bag, not unlike the sandbag used by thugs. It didn’t come within six feet of him.” “Well, whatever it was that hit him, it has had the same effect as a hard blow, and I fear it has given him concussion of the brain,” re- plied the doetor. “Is there any blood clotting yet?” asked Dan. “Not yet, but I think that if it is going to clot at all it will start about noon, today.” All this conversation had taken place outside the old man’s room and the two turned to enter. “How do you feel now. uncle?” asked Dan concernedly. “I feel pretty good now, except for my head. I think it must have been a piledriver that hit me he replied. Mr. Hartley then attempted to talk about Mr. Smithe, but Dan skillfully led the talking into other channels. Mr. Hartley soon express- ed a desire to sleep, and as it was about nine P. M., Dan having spent the whole day there, his wish was granted. On his way home, Dan Hardy saw in his newspaper, in glaring headlines, a detailed ac- count of two mysterious murders in Ramsey Street. Both occurred the same way as Mr. Hartley’s accident. Evidently the reporters hadn’t gotten wind of his accident, as there wras nothing in the paper about it. Both these men were executives in large concerns. One, Mr. Forsythe, was the president of the Continental Marine Corporation. This report made Dan change his plans and he immediately proceeded to Ramsey Street. On reaching the spot where Mr. Hartley had been assaulted, he darted into the open doorway. Creeping along the dimly lighted hallway, lie could hear no sound other than the creaking of the old boards beneath his weight and the scur- rying of rats. After proceeding a wav, lie came to a “Y”, and not hesitating an instant, he crept dow'n the left one. He soon came to a door. On opening it he saw behind it a room. This he entered, his revolver ready in his hand. What moment and from what corner might come a bullet or one of those death-dealing “no- things,” he knew’ not. But his flash showed the room to be empty. He examined it thoroughly and could find no trace of door or closet. Dan was about to retrace his steps when he heard the door close on him and the lock snap. He placed his whole one hundred ninety-five pounds of solid flesh and bone against it, but it w’ould not budge. Once more he examined the walls and saw’ a picture hanging rather crookedly on the wall. He also noticed that there was no dust on it as there wfas on everything else in the room. He took the picture down, and to his de- light saw a button behind it. He pressed it and suddenly heard a creaking rioicc on the opposite side of the room. He turned quickly and saw a portion of the wall swinging in towards him. He stood for a second and it closed. He again pressed the button and this time he entered the wall and mounted the steps which he found there. After he had ascended approximately twenty- five steps he heard the door close on him again. Therefore he knew that his only salvation lay in going straight ahead. He had climbed about twenty-five more, using his flashlight occasionally, when he came to a wall. He pushed easily on this and to his amazement, it swung inwards on hinges into an- other room like the first. The only difference was that this one showed signs of being habited, since it contained a table, three chairs, a small oil lamp, and a telephone As Dan stood look- ing at all these things, he suddenly heard sever- PAGE SEVENTEEN

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1927 An Introduction Je suis—qui?” is all I'll sign. 1 hope you’ll like my verse. Beneath these triolets of mine “Je suis—qui?” is all I’ll sign; I’ll grant they’re neither great nor fine, But still there have been worse. “Je suis—qui?” is all I’ll sign. I hope you’ll like my verse. A Tviolet A triolet’s a cheery thing. So short, hut ah ! so full of light! It seems to dance, it seems to sing. A triolet’s a cheery thing, It lilts along on speedy wing, A star-like bit of rhyme in flight. A triolet’s a cheery thing. So short, but ah! so full of light! The Rain I hear the pattering of the rain Like dancing fairies’ feet, That dance, then rest, then dance again. I hear the pattering of the rain (Perhaps they dance to hide some pain) And, oh ! the sound is sweet! I hear the pattering of the rain Like dancing fairies’ feet. I Asked Her to Go Out with Me I asked her to go out with me, And gosh! she answered, “Yes.” It made my heart beat swift with glee; I asked her to go out with me. And, asking, met with great success. So her kindly heart I bless! I asked her to go out with me, And gosh ! she answered “Yes.” In Latin Class In Latin class We suffer so! The minutes pass In Latin class As if Time’s glass Had ceased its flow. In Latin class We suffer so! “Je Sris—Qui?” A Chance “Je suis—qui?” has changed his sphere; Some rondeaus he is now essaying And hopes that you’ll not start to jeer. “Je suis—qui?” has changed his sphere. His brow is pale and white with fear, And for success, oh ! how he’s praying! “Je suis—qui?” has changed his sphere; Some rondeaus he is now essaying. These Old French Forms These old French forms! I find them so Entrancing! Poets never know How sweet their muse can really be, How clear their lyre’s ecstacy, Until they’ve tried to fashion a rondeau, Ballade (these are the forms that show How swift his rhyming pen can go) Or triolet. So light and free— These old French forms! Their rhymes go rippling to and fro Right merrily; they’re seldom slow, (Although a weightier minstrelsey At times may enter). With laughing glee In calm serenity they flow— These old French forms. “Je Suis—Qui?” THE MYSTERY OF THE HIDDEN ARM The fog was of the thick, “pea-soupy” type, so common in the city of London, especially in that section along the banks of the Thames. The cabs were running along slowly and the omni- buses were barely crawling. Mixed with the fog was a slight drizzle that wet one through to the skin in a few moments if one were unlucky enough to be caught in it without an umbrella. The crowds were just getting out from the theatres and most of them were directing their steps towards one of the numerous night-clubs with which the Strand, England’s Broadway, was spotted, or rather, splashed. Suddenly out of the crowd stepped two elderly men, Mr. Hartley, talking rather rapidly, and Mr. Smithe, who listened to every word attentively. Evi- dently they were discussing something of im- portance, for they neglected to take an omnibus, but instead turned down Ramsey Street as a short-cut to Mr. Hartley’s house. “What is the use of going around through the ‘bright-lights’ when we can reach home quicker this way, and it is also easier to talk while in one of these quiet streets,” explained Mr. Hart- ley. “Just as you say,” agreed Mr. Smithe, and they again entered into the argument in which they seemed to be very interested. After they had talked for five or ten minutes, they lapsed into silence. Suddenly Mr. Hartley turned to tell Mr. Smithe something, but he could see his companion nowhere. After several minutes of futile searching, he directed his steps toward his nephew’s house. Once there he explained everything and his relative, I)an Hardy, bade him pass the night with him. Once Mr. Hartley had fallen asleep, Dan went out, and with the directions given him by his uncle, found the place of the disappearance. PAGE SIXTEEN

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THE REFLECTOR CLIFTON HIGH SCHOOL FEBRUARY 1927 al men approaching. He quickly jumped back into the wall and shut the door. He heard the men enter and sit down. Gradually opening the door, for he knew it was in the darkness, he saw three Russians, with their characteristic dress, and their long beards. They were talking Russian. Suddenly a little bell tinkled. The attitude of the three changed immediately. The one who seemed to be leader jumped towards a closet and withdrew a little bag. At the sight of the bag, Dan gave a slight gasp, although it was inaudible. It was just the same as the one that had been extended towards his uncle when he had fallen. So, thought Dan, these men were the murderers. Well, here lie was, and he in- tended to take them with him when he left. When the leader had gotten the bag, they proceeded towards another door in a wall in the direction of the street, or at least Dan de- cided so. Dan followed them down into another room, though smaller than either of the two he had been in previously. Suddenly the leader went across the room and pressed a button. Soon after, a hole opened in the wall, and the leader, who had been standing with drawn back arm, suddenly threw it out and drew it in again. It all took about one second. They were about to go back when they heard a faint tinkling of the bell again. They immediately returned to tin wall and the leader gave the bag to one of the others. He then went over and pressed the button. Simultaneously, with the opening of the door, and the drawing back of the Russian’s arm, Dan’s pistol sounded. The man wheeled, and then dropped. The others reached for their guns but at a word from Dan, their hands flew skyward. He relieved them of their weapons and marched them upstairs, where he telephon- ed police headquarters. The officer in charge came around to the Calder Street entrance, at Dan’s request, and there Dan delivered over his prisoners. Then at Dan’s orders, the building on Ram- sey Street, opposite the murderers’ house, was surrounded by police. Dan and the officer en- tered and searched the place thoroughly, find- ing, on the second floor, a dead Russian. This man had evidently been the “eye of the gang, and had chosen thus rather than go through the ordeal of a trial and the inevitable hanging. On his desk were several buttons which, as Dan found out later, operated the bell and the hole in the wall. When the man on the other side of the street pressed the button, it shifted the control of the door or hole to the “eye, and as soon as the door flew open, the others knew that the intended victim was opposite the hole. When the body was removed, Dan searched for Mr. Smithe, whom he found in one of the rooms, tied hand and foot. “What did they want you for alive? asked Dan. “They knew that although I was rich, I wasn’t head of any concern, and as they needed money to carry out their plan of vengeance, they tried to force money out of me under threat of death,” explained Mr. Smithe. “Their plan of vengeance? said Dan. “Yes, they told me all of their plan. I guess they intended putting me to death as soon as they got the money, which I never intended giving them. You see, these Russians, as per- haps you do not know, were formerly employed in the Continental Marine Corporation, of which Mr. Forsythe was a member. 1 know all about Mr. Forsythe's death, as they boasted that was what all the ‘Monarchs of Business,’ as they termed them, were going to get. Mr. Hartley was also one of the largest shareholders. During a lull in business, which created a like lull in shipping, the company was forced to lay off considerable help. These Russians were among those laid off. This did not tend to pacify them in any way, and they contrived this scheme of ridding the earth of these ‘Monarchs of Busi- ness’, said Mr. Smithe. He had been told of Mr. Hartley’s accident. As they entered the house of Mr. Hartley, the doctor met them and told them that Mr. Hartley had succombed during the night. This news brought many tears to Dan’s eyes, as he had loved his uncle very much. After preparations for the burial had been made, Dan went to the police station to find out what the bag was that killed so mysteriously. A chemist was examining and testing it at the present moment. He was soon ready to give his report. “This bag is filled with cotton and woolen cloth, in which has been absorbed a great quan- tity of a certain kind of acid or chemical. This chemical is very expensive. It has very peculiar properties. If it is thrown towards any person with considerable force it acts the same as a hard blow would. Sometimes it kills the person, very often causing concussion of the brain. What it is that possesses this killing power is not ac- tually known, although it is generally supposed that it is the corona which surrounds anything dipped in this acid. This corona is invisible and is never found with just the acid alone. Several months after the incidents set forth in the foregoing story, Dan Hardy was sitting in the spacious study of his mansion. He was resting from the effects of several hard cases which had come his way after he had been so successful with the affair of the Russians. After PAGE EIGHTEEN