John Adams High School - Clipper Yearbook (Ozone Park, NY)

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ning it along the strings of the violin. That d-one, he put the in- strument back in its case and rose. He then extinguished the light and softly left the room. After the last course had been finished, Mrs. Rogers pressed him to get his violin and play, because everyone was more than eager to hear him. He got his violin from his room. He stood before them, well-poised and very sure of himself. Women breathed sighs, and men grudgingly gazed in admiration at the famous figure. He started to play. Softly lilting notes stole from the violin as the player caressed the strings with the bow. It was a weird taunting melody, straight from the heart of the jungle. The thunder of the lion's roar, the screeching of tropic birds, denizens of the jungle calling to their mates, shadows mingling with the rippling of the murky river waters, all blended in the music that Eric Lan- sing drew forth from his violin. Toward the end of the song, he seemed a little nervous, less sure of himself than when he first started to play. A green pallor, ghastly as the mark of death spread over his face. The guests sat in electric silence, sat fascinated by the music that brought tribal dances and the beating of tom-toms to their minds. Lansing began to play faster now, moving in rapid crescendo. He looked like an African voo-doo medicine man working himself into a frenzy. The hands that had awed thousands by melodies they had drawn from the violin trembled, they grasped the bow and instrument so firmly that the knuckles grew white under the strain. Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead. With obvious effort he drew the bow across the strings and ended the song. The audience was silent in strained uneasiness. Sporadic handclaps rang rout, but they were suddenly choked by the feeling of an unexplainable terror. Ladies and gentlemen, the name of the composition you have just heard was the Symphony oft. With .a low moan he pitched forward flat on the floor, writhing and clutching his throat, and digging his nails into the carpet for support. For a moment nothing was said or done. Such an action had come too quickly for the entranced group. Two men nearest him rushed to the sprawled ngure. Terror and horror distorted their features. What had once been a strikingly handsome face was now a livid, twitching mask. The stricken man tried to raise himself but failed, falling back into the arms of the man holding him. 8 l'l--IE il-.ll'l'L.aI-Q

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THE FATAL MELODY 1 BY Cuimxs McKAY VKX: 98 fl 3 a' .fi - ric Lansing stood beside his host- ess acknowledging the introductions with a cool smile. Mrs. Rogers took her famous guest to a group around the piano, and continued the introductions. As she did, she noticed the young man seated in one of the far corners of the room. Oh, Mr. Lansing, let me present a brother of your profession, she said, Mr. Lansing, meet Mr. Martin Windsor. A change that was visible only for the fraction of a second stole over Lansing as he faced the younger man. The man spoken of as Windsor had paled perceptibly. Mrs. Rogers looked from one to the other, puzzled at such strange behavior. Finally Lansing relieved the situation by saying, Mr, Windsor and I have met be- fore. Windsor held out his hand to the vi-olinist. The latter pretended ignorance of the gesture. A red flush stole over Windsor's face. So we did, and quite a very long time ago, eh Lansing, he drawled. Why, isn't that too lovely for words. You know, Mr. Lansing, Mr. Windsor is quite a violinist in his own right. Pretty soon he'll be following in your footsteps. she gushed. I'm aifraid the dream of following in the footsteps of so great a musician as Mr. Lansing will never be realized by me. Windsor murmured, a thin smile playing about the corners of his mouth. After excusing himself, Lansing made for his room. He opened the door and put on the light. Not knowing why he did so, he turned about quickly and glanced at the -open door. Hum, he mused, that's funny, could have sworn I heard someone in back of me that time. He closed the door and coming back, picked his violin up from the table. Sitting down in the chair nearest him, he fondled the instrument. He leaned over the table and opened a small box, helped himself to a small square of resin, run- 'r's-ag il.-Il'l'L..ld7

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Several times he tried to speak, but only muttering that were barely heard issued from the swollen lips. Before a physician arrived, Eric Lansing died. The doctor could hnd no explanation for the death and committed the body to the care of the coroner who arrived with the police, shortly after. After a brief examination, the coroner ordered the body removed to the morgue and issued an order for an autopsy. Detective Robert Barrett in charge of the investigation assembled the guests and servants for questioning. He called one by one into the study, then fired a barrage of questions at each. Now, Mrs. Rogers, as hostess of this gathering, you ought to be able to give us some information that might account for this unfortunate occurrence, Barrett said. Now what can you tell me about this fellow Lansing? All I know is that Mr. Lansing was my guest for the week- end, at a suggestion made by a mutual friend. He is a fine artist famed for his playing of the violin. I introduced him to the rest of my friends here tonight. Then after dinner he played for us and then, -here she broke down. Wasn't there anyone here tonight, that might have been an enemy of Lansing's? No, no, not that I know of. Are you sure that that is all you know? Nothing else happen? Not that I know of. In fact, he was quite jolly tonight. You should have seen the way he and Mr. Windsor-really you kn-ow, I do think that they were enjoying a huge joke at my expense. She flashed the detective a feeble smile. They just looked at one another, when I was introducing them, then I found out they had known one another all the time. The questioning continued with no definite clues for the police to work on. Finally, when Barrett was through, Ryan, his assistant, told him there was still another person to be quizzed. Who is it? It's a fellow by the name of Windsor, Sir, shall I send him in? Oh, yes, Windsor. Yes, Ryan, send him in. . Martin Windsor was ushered into the study and seated before Detective Barrett. Full name, please! Martin Edward Windsor. Occupation? 'r s--aE- lL.ll'l'l....l4Q