Gordon Bell High School - Purple and Gold Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

Page 54 text:

52 GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL When I climbed into bed that night the clock had begun to strike twelve. At the sound of the last stroke I sat up in bed, the sweat pouring off me. What was the solution? I realized that I would have no rest until I had found it. I began to regret that I had ever followed the stranger. What trouble I had brought upon myself! Like a monster the question pursued me, day and night, hounding me relentlessly, deeper and deeper in to the problem until I came, as always, to the same blank wall. At last being unable to stand the strain any longer I went to a close friend, hoping that he would be able to help me. I had always had confidence in him, and though the possibility was remote, something might be made of the mystery. He listened attentively to my tale. I told him of the stranger and of my suspicions. When I had finished, he chuckled, much to my annoyance. “I can’t see anything funny in what I have told you,” I said frowning. “If that is all the help you can give me, I might as well go.” With that I began to take my hat and coat off the desk. “Wait a minute, Martin,” said my friend, “I am sorry if I have annoyed you, but the solution is quite simple. If you had read the newspaper more care¬ fully you would have solved your mystery at once.” “What is the solution?” my anger entirely forgotten. “Simply this. Our jeweller, Mr. Smith, finds that he is on the verge of bankruptcy. What does he do? He disguises himself, but makes one bad mistake.” “The gold mounted walking stick!” I exclaimed. “Exactly,” said my friend. “He then robs his own store.” “Ridiculous!” I said contemptuously. “Not so. If you reflect you will see why.” “But what could he hope to gain?” “The insurance,” was the simple answer. It was the following day. Again I was in the best of health. The past twenty-four hours had been very eventful, for in that twenty-four hours I had been made the recipient of a sum, small, but more than sufficient to pay the expenses of my convalescence. It is sufficient to say that the jeweller was brought to justice. He had played a clever game but lost, all because of a gold- mounted walking stick—and my curiosity.

Page 53 text:

GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL “Nearly got away, eh?” he said. “You didn’t have a chance. I was watching you all the time.” Horrified at this condemnation, I protested, and continued my protestations tor several blocks, the officer saying nothing but bundling me along all the while in an exceedingly rough manner. Finding that he would not listen to me, I cursed him for the blundering fool he was and resigned myself to my fate. Fifteen minutes’ walk brought us to the police station, where began the most nerve-racking experience I have ever undergone. It was a virtual third degree. First one would ask a question, then before I could answer another would start. Indeed their object seemed to be to confuse me so that my an¬ swers were of absolutely no value to them. When I attempted to protest against this treatment I received a well directed blow on the head. After an hour or so of this useless procedure, I was consigned to a bare cell until further information was unearthed. The coming of the next day brought with it more questioning and finally my release from prison on insufficient evidence. One would suppose that I would have been glad to get out of this escapade unharmed, but on the contrary. My ardor was heightened and I determined that I would track the thief to his hideout. My interest was increased, too, by the offer of a reward to the per¬ son who apprehended the thief. It was a considerable amount and nobody needed it more than I did. There being nothing else to do in the afternoon, I retraced my steps to the alley down which the culprit had turned. This alley was crossed by another. One branch of the latter led to the main street and the other into the slums. Since it was unlikely that he would show himself on a main street, I took the one which led in the other direction. After a good deal of thinking and no little deduction, my wanderings brought me to a vacant house which stood at the end of an obscure lane. I was positive that it was the one he must have en¬ tered, if any. I searched it, but found nothing. The stranger had planned his retreat well. Having thus come to a blank wall and having gathered practically no clues, I returned home. An interval of about two weeks passed. By that time I had almost forgotten my adventure, my mind being occupied in the meantime with business affairs. Another week passed, and having a little time at my disposal, I sat reflect¬ ing on the incident which came to my mind. I pictured every detail trying to make things fit, but with little success. My interest became greater the longer I thought upon the gold mounted walking stick! It couldn’t be mistaken. I re¬ solved at once to start again my search for the thief. The first snow fall had covered the city. I was walking home after a hard day’s work and was in the midst of the crowd which I had observed so closely a month or so previously. I walked with my hands in my coat pockets and my head bent. I was in a pensive mood, and heard neither the bustle of the crowd nor the traffic. I was aroused by an object which passed in front of my eyes. It was a gold mounted walking stick. Expectantly I looked up. It was not he. Instead it was a young man of medium height with lank fair hair. He did not in the least resemble the one I had expected it to be. A fortnight passed. I was at a party which was be ing held by the proprietor of the same jewellery store I had seen robbed. I had never been introduced to him, having come to the party only at a friend’s invitation. The owner was none other than the young man I had seen before. We shook hands. My sus¬ picions were immediately aroused. My hopes arose accordingly, but fell at the same moment. A jeweller robbing his own store! Perfectly ridiculous! Try as I would, I could find no further clue. I pondered upon these things for the rest of the evening, but it was not until I was leaving that I got any nearer the solution. The umbrellas had been placed in the hall, and among them was the gold-mounted walking stick. Upon examining it I was sure that it was the one I had seen in the hands of the stranger.

Page 55 text:

GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL It Happened Like This By STAFFORD WILSON yejVIDNIGHT. The huge Waverley Mansion stood dark and forbidding at ft I I the very end of the fashionable Willow Park Drive. It had been reported in the local paper two days previously that its owner, Sir James Waverley, and his family, had left for a six months’ vacation in England; and now the splendid old mansion stood silent and spectre-like amid its thickly wooded grounds. The huge elms and oaks waved silently in the cool night air, while the mist settled like a protective blanket over the empty walks and their orna¬ mental shrubs and flower beds. Suddenly the bushes on the north side of the house moved startlingly. From above a small bush was seen what at first appeared to be a crudely colored half-moon. Closer examination, however, proved it to be no such exalted thing, but merely the patched seat of the working trousers of “Happy” Madigan, who was at the time creeping stealthily towards the mansion. Now, “Happy” Madigan was a gentleman at heart, and a good Samaritan in his own way. For instance, if anyone had any excess valuables lying around the house, “Happy” would obligingly see that they were put in a safe place— to his own commercial advantage. There were several drawbacks in “Happy’s” helpfulness, and one of them was the fact that most of the valuables put away were wanted, and not really excess at all. There was also the fact that “Happy” made all the profit on the riddance of these valuables. At the present moment the gracious Mr. Madigan was busily engaged in attempting to do the owner of the great house a favor, in the form of some relief work on the famed Waverley family jewels. He was now doing his best to gain access to the house without attracting the attention of the bothersome minions of the law. The latter had too often put a crimp into the plans of the obliging gentleman, and had caused him to have his hair cropped and to undergo a long rest before resuming his helpful operations. In his hand Mr. Madigan carried a small black bag, wherein he kept his surgical instruments, used for oper ating on obstinate and unyielding windows. The half-moon portion of ' ' Happy’s” pants, the huge black and white patch which covered nearly the whole of the seat of his nether garment acted, un¬ known to him, as a glaring beacon. Cautiously the intruder started for the mansion on his hands and knees through the shrubbery, until at last he reached his destination—the scullery window. Here there was a slight pause while the window was forced open with the aid of a jimmie. The bag was set on the sill and the checkered beacon was again outlined in the black night, followed by “Happy’s” legs as he crawled through the small aperture. The good Samaritan landed with a slight thump in a heap upon the floor, and having adjusted him¬ self, lowered the bag to the floor and cautiously shut the window. He began a little reconnoitering of his own. Walking hurriedly through the huge kitchen to what appeared to be the door of the hall leading to the main dining-room, he was pulled up sharply as he ran smack into solid wall in the breakfast room. He quickly recovered, however, and by reversing his direction managed to reach the door for which he was searching. As he entered the large dining-room, his blood froze and his knees felt weak and shaky. There, in a chair, sat someone in a full dress suit! For a second, “Happy” could not move. He stood and stared at the black and white object in the chair until, growing a little bolder, he took a few steps forward. From his new position he saw, to his immense relief, nothing more dangerous than a full dress suit thrown carelessly across the back of a chair. He took off his oddly-matched and patched attire, flung it on the floor and donned the classical suit which seemed to have been specially provided to replace his shabby garments. Mr. Madigan glanced disdainfully at his old apparel lying in disgrace upon the floor, and picking it up, he continued his tour of inspection of the ground floor of the mansion. When he came to the luxurious drawing-room, with all its beautiful furnishings, the fireplace attracted his attention. It inspired him with a desire to cast the old suit, beacon and all,