Toulon Township High School - Tolo Yearbook (Toulon, IL)

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10 March, Nineteen Thirty-one the authorities in due time. At that time I didn’t know who were the officers and didn’t trust native policemen with these valuables. “I washed the ring off, and found to my astonishment that it was the mate (the other half) of my ring. I then eagerly examined the few letters I had taken from the body in hopes that they would throw some light on this matter. “At first I looked through several unimportant letters concerning a trip to Northern India. At last I found what I wanted—a letter never posted and addressed to a brother in Scotland. It read: “ ‘Dear John: “ ‘It seems as if the net of these religious fanatics is closing in on me. 1 feel I haven’t much time left here. You remember William Berton for whom I worked, about twenty-five years ago? Well, once while he was traveling in northern India for the government we discovered far up in the hills a secluded secret temple of a very cruel, zealous cult. He, against my wishes, lay in ambush near by until night had fallen. Then he stole into this temple out of curiosity and love of adventure. “ ‘He became engrossed in two beautiful rings he saw on each side of an altar or shrine. He decided to take these for souvenirs. But a priest caught him in the act of stealing the valuable sacred relics and tried to run for help, but Berton, to keep from having these howling fanatics down on him killed the priest with a small ivory handled dagger he always carried. “ ‘We escaped but from that time on we were hunted secretly by members of this cult. They swore to kill (with replicas of the knife he used in killing their priest) all who were in any way connected with him and to regain the sacred rings. “ ‘Now the very day this happened his son was born in Calcutta, so when he got there he put one ring on a silken cord about the child’s neck as a good luck charm. (But all mortals who wore these rings were cursed, according to tradition). “ ‘A week later his wife died and he lost his job. He sent his baby son to England to live with an aunt. During all this, it must be remembered, he wore the other ring. “ ‘A month later he strolled into his library, screamed, and was dead. I rushed in just in time to see a figure in oriental dress leap through the window. I examined poor Berton to see what had happened. He lay on the floor with his very own dagger, with which he had killed the priest, sticking in his breast, in exactly the place he had stabbed the priest. The finger on which he wore that accursed ring was badly mutilated as if the murderer had tried to remove the ring by chopping off his finger. “ ‘Poor Berton died without a penny, and I received the ring as back pay. And I had earned it! “ ‘About eight years later I read in a London paper about the mysterious death of Berton’s aunt, who had taken his son. The paper said she had been stabbed by an ivory handled dagger. The members of the Temple

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March, Nineteen Thirty-one 9 in northern England with a person who claimed to be my great aunt. We never had callers and I never had a playmate. We lived apart from the world. But one night during my eighth year, this sort of life came to an abrupt close. “All that day the house seemed filled with a weird confusion. My aunt went about with a grave look on her face, but also seemed resigned to some almost inevitable fate. She acted particularly anxious about me and more than once looked at the ring that I wore on a silken cord about my neck. I have it on my finger now; I’ve worn it ever since I can remember. “That night I heard an awful scream from her bedroom and tremblingly crept in to find my sole protector dead—with a knife sticking stiffly in her breast. “I didn’t understand what it all meant and with childish sobs crawled into bed beside her and gazed into her wild staring eyes imploring her to answer me. I lay huddled beside her until morning and then went to a nearby farm and told them that I was running away because my aunt would neither talk to me nor move. “They immediately guessed the trouble and did what they could. “This aunt left her fortune to her own heir—me. I was placed in a boarding school first; then I went to Eton and later to Oxford. “Many nights during my boarding I have been awakened by the feeling that some one was tugging at my ring. When I finished school I conceived the idea to get the other half of my ring (which I naturally supposed was in existence). I vaguely felt that finding of my ring w'ould tell me who my father was and explain a few questions concerning my real identity. “Well, anyway, one evening last year as I was strolling in Calcutta 1 began to feel that I was being followed and several times I turned to see who it was. Each time I saw no one but was firmly convinced that I was being followed by the sound of scurrying footsteps. “Just as I was entering my apartment I heard several shrieks and a distinctly loud groan. I ran to the scene of confusion and found an elderly Englishman lying on his back with an ivory handled dagger in his heart. “The whole scene struck me as familiar. At first I wondered why but when I took a close look at the dagger I remembered all. The dagger was an exact replica of the one that killed my aunt. The body was lying in almost identically the same posture. “By this time a crowd of natives and a few white men had gathered around and I, being a physician, took sort of unofficial charge of the whole affair. I went through the man’s pockets and began to examine his body for jewelry, money, etc. I looked on his left hand and saw a large ring completely covered with blood. It looked as if the assailant had apparently been trying to get the ring off, by severing the finger from the hand, when he was forced to flee. “I took his belongings home with me intending to turn them over to

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March, Nineteen Thirty-one 11 were never still, I could plainly see. Several times I have been attacked by them but escaped brutally. “ ‘I have been wearing this ‘earned ring’ ever since Berton was killed, but have suffered so much ill luck that I have determined to try to find young Berton, get his ring, (my ring’s mate) and try to return them to the Temple. Maybe this will end the curse upon me and anyone connected with Berton. “ ‘Your affectionate brother, “ ‘JOHN K. “ ‘P. S. I think I saw the other ring on a young man here the other day. I’m going to make sure, because I know where he stays. I am going to try to get it from him peaceably, but if he’s a real Berton I’ll have to kill him to get it. I’ll even do that if I must.’ ” After hearing this strange story from Huntington (or young Berton) 1 asked to see both rings. He put his other hand on the table and there gleamed the mate to the one that caused me so much embarrassment. I then asked if he intended to right the wrong done to his father and return the rings to the rightful owner. He set his jaw and said, “No, I’m not. I guess we paid enough for them. I’ll keep them till I die.” As we strolled out upon the moonlit deck, each glittered in the tropical moonlight as I had never seen them before. I thought to myself as we watched the water swish by, “Be careful, my stubborn friend.” Three days later, as I sat in a hotel in Calcutta I read a leading English newspaper and I saw the following article at the bottom corner of one page: “Geo. K. Huntington, well known English millionaire, was found dead in a dark street today by a native policeman. It seems that two fingers, one on each hand, were missing.” ST. PATRICK’S DAY. Agnes Malone was an Irish girl. She loved Ireland as all Irish people do. She would celebrate on St. Patrick’s day. Her mother said she could have a party. “Let’s see, I’m going to invite Kathryn, Lois, Marie, Ruth an--” “Hurry Agnes, it’s time you were off to school,” said her mother. “Good-bye, mother,” called Agnes. Days passed. St. Patrick’s day at last was here. Nearly every one of the students wore green that day. “I don’t see why we have to go to school today,” whispered Agnes to her neighbor, Gordon. “Who does?” replied Gordon. It was time for classes. On her way she heard this conversation: “What dress are you going to wear to Agnes’s party?” asked Lois. “Heavens, I don’t know, my green one perhaps,” replied Kathryn. “Girls, don’t you detest Algebra and Geometry?” “That stuff does give me pains. I always have hated it,” replied Lois.