Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

Page 12 text:

10 H TRINITY COILIEGE SYCLHOQL RlEQORiDg 1-W Some private grudge has caused the whole thing. It's a long shot. I know. but his manner and that picture con- vince me I ani right. The great singer given to the -. What does that mean but that somebody has suffered by his giving a great singer to the world ? Our next step is to see Lecoq. who has the history of Parisian Theatre- land at his lingers' ends. Lecoq was a sous-prefet who had helped Sholmes on many an occasion in Paris and been assisted by Shohnes in London. They were not disappointed when they arrived at the Surete: Lecoq would see them and they were ushered into the great little man's office. Lecoq greeted Sholmes eifusively and with real sincerity: How do you do, my dear Sholmes? Five years, isn't it? But I've heard of you from month to month. so that we haven't really been strangers all that time. Thank you, my friend, said Sholmes. And I have heard of you, now the peerless Lecoq, prince of detectives. Lecoq beamed but disclaimed such praise: You are a flatterer, Sholmes. But, never mind, what brings you here 'T Need I ask 'F It's the Pantheon case, and, although I'm entirely out of it. command me. As usual. you are right, Lecoq. I want Flaubert's dossier. Sholmes had got to the point quickly. as time was a great factor now. Well, said the Frenchman, I don't know that he has a dossier. but I can tell you something of him from mem- ory. Flaubert was in the Comedie management about twenty years ago. but suddenly shot up in the world by buying out the Pantheon. The venture was ridiculed by most people in the know, but against all expectation, his house was Iilled every night for long enough. You know it's only a high-class music hall. yet it never had, in the iirst year of its new proprietorship. looked back, and this was the reason. On his opening night he introduced to the Parisian public La Polonaisef' and thereby hangs a tale, as you English say. La Polonaise' was a sensation, more than that if you can understand me. All Paris loved her as well as her singing, and it's no wonder. Madame Waleski, or Comtess. as you will, had before her marriage to Count Waleski starred in Warsaw opera, whence she was taken by her wealthy husbandg and the story goes that she had forsworn the stage on his request. A year after the marriage a baby came, and two years later another. To cut a long story short, motherhood palled on the lady, and the old love of the stage obsessed her, so that she deserted husband and children for her old love. Yet there's more than that: how she became connected with Flaubert I don't know, but they say that she had such a conceit of her ability that she had to occupy the stage alone. which was just what Flaubert wanted. Naturally. her husband tried to bring her back, but all his efforts were of no availg she was wedded to the Pantheon and Waleski blamed Flaubert. There was no scandal or anything of that sort, but she had her day and just vanished from theatreland like so many others. Waleski, it is said, used to go night after night to hear her sing, but never again approached her after his first unsuccessful attempts. although he had a house in Paris all the time she sang here, and may have still for all I know. Lecoq was soon made conscious of having helped Sholmes materially. for the latter was all gratitude: Thanks, Lecoq, you've told me what I wanted, just one thing more. could you find out within a minute or two where Waleski used to live in Paris, or whether he happens to be here now and where? Lecoq was up in a moment, called a subordinate, to whom he told the detective's needs. and the procedure he was to follow. You'll have what you want in tive minutes, Sholmesf' said the Frenchman with a laugh: that is news one way or the other. but I doubt if Waleski is in Paris now. The story I've told you takes us back twenty years or so. As he said, his subordinate was back within the p1'escribed time and evidently satisfied. He passed a card to Lecoq, who transferred it to Sholmes without looking at it. But Sholmes was all eagerness. Yes, sure enough, VValeski was in Paris, though in a different home, and he read the address aloud: Baron Ladislas Waleski, 17 Rue St. Claude. Sholmes was eager to pursue this clue and excused him- self and Jotson to Lecoq. who offered them his assistance, if they should need it later. Time was slipping fast, and nothing had yet been done to prevent a recurrence of the panic of the evening before. Sholmes, although high in spirits, was plainly anxious to do something more material. The Rue St. Claude was their objective. On arriving in the old-fashioned, narrow street, they sur- veyed No. 17 from a distance, and saw a mansion of the old regime, now in a sad state of disrepair. Whatever the detectives object was, he concealed it from Jotson, whom he advised to go back to their lodgings, as the vigil was likely to be a long one. Jotson, a little dis- appointed. took his departure, and Sholmes continued on past the house, which seemed deserted. One hour, two hours and three passed before any sign of life was seen about No. 175 then just as the detective's patience was exhausted, the front door swung open to give egress to a well-dressed little man. who at that moment stuffed an envelope into his inside pocket, and hurried on to the street, looking neither right nor left. The chase was a long one, but Sholmes now had inexhaustible patience. The man kept on foot, although plainly in a hurry. Quarry and tracker, with about a hundred yards between, passed along Claude on to the Boulevard St. Germain, which they followed until they struck the Rue du Bac. Here they turned northwards, crossed the Seine at the Pont Royal on to the Quai des Tuileries, then east to the Place de La Concorde along the Rue Royale, which brought them to a little street, Rue d'Anjou, joining Malesherbes and Rue St. Honore. Never once to Sholmes' knowledge had the the little man looked back, but here he showed more caution, by stand- ing at the St. Honore corner for a minute or two. His next move was straight to a door halfway up the street, through which he passed without ceremony, and returned at the end of five minutes. ' Sholmes let his man go, and concentrated on the still open door which seemed to be a court entrance. Such it proved to be as Sholmes ventured in and sought the concierge. That worthy had just come down stone steps leading into the court-yard, when the detective accosted him: Well, my friend, have you any rooms for an actor ? Not immediately, monsieurf' replied the janitor, we have nothing till Monday next, when another actor vacatesf' By the way, said Sholmes, Is M. Harley here? He's an old friend of mine. But, yes, Monsieur, returned the janitor, he's the actor who leaves us Monday, Well, I can't wait now, but you can tell him an old friend is taking his rooms on Monday, said Sholmes, anxious to finish the conversation. The detective was beaming as he turned back to Rue de Rivoli, where he took a taxi to his rooms in the Rue St. Antoine. Jotson was at home, and welcomed the detective with the question: Well, what luck? Great luck, Jotson. replied Sholmes. 'tWe are on the trail, and -I want your help tonight. We are going to the Pantheon to see another appearance of the ghost. At least you are. I want to test a theory. 'Quick, now. it's getting late, and we must have a bite before going out, for Heaven knows when we shall get back. I don't understand you, quite, said the doctor, but I'm game. A cold supper took the place of dinner, and at eight they walked back the way Sholmes' taxi had come. Shortly before half-past they were in the Pantheon foyer while the first house was pouring out. The place was seething, for curiosity had moved the Parisians to the exclusion of all fear of this unknown horror. The two Englishmen went into their seats some fifteen minutes

Page 11 text:

TRINITY tI'OI.l.EGl'I Stfllfltll. lil'It'Oltll I THE RETURN OF HERLOCIQ SHOLNIES The Ghost of the Pantheon. Snow fell thick on the deserted Rue de St. Antoine. while most of Paris slept. In one ot' the tall narrow mansionsof other days Sholmes and Jotson before a cosy fire talked while the snow continued to obscure the long windows, and vanish in a moment. Sholmes' attention was drawn to the window. Like a snowflake on the river, A moment here, then gone for ever. he quoted. That's the way of it, my dear Jotson: my reputation, gone for ever. Not at all, said the docto1', not for ever. The snow-flake returns to mother ocean to be later taken up to the clouds, or else evaporated by the morrow's sung and so it comes again with another frost. Very comforting, but how long, my God, how long? Sholmes was plainly distressed by his blunder in the case of The Cultured Pearls. I ani getting old, Jotson, just old enough to be terribly fallible. Don't despair, old friend, the snowflake will fall again. Tomorrow, next day, next month will come the great chance. never fear. A month had passed since the notable failure, a month since the great detective had torn the lovely Ramona into a thousand shreds as being his false inspirer. Not once since then had he lifted himself out of the contemplation of his sad failure, so that poor Jotson was condemned to a most mournful society. Despite their seeming great friendship, relations were strained and the atmosphere hung with irritability and impatience of reply that had been such strangers to their life-long association. J otson had done his best to improve matters, but the detective seemed continually obsessed with the fear that he was absurd to all eyes, even his friend's. Look here, Sholmes, said Jotson, this has got to stop. You know very well all men are fallible, and I admire your great virtues, both as a man and a detective the same as ever. Let's go to bed, old friend, and tomorrow let's wake up in a new frame of mind. Good night, Sholmes. The detective took the proffered hand but said nothing, evidently deeply moved by his friend's gesture. Over breakfast next morning Le Matin claimed their whole attention. Leaning against a wall of sugar- bowl and cruet-stand, its staring head-lines told the story: GHOST MYSTERY AT THE PANTHEON Panic-stricken Full House and Sholmes was reading in English: Last night close on eleven the audience at the Pan- theon were driven into the worst panic Paris has seen since the fire at the Opera House. At the close of Harley the Hypnotists turn, in the dim light of the body of the house, a great figure of gigantic proportions suspended in mid-air dominated the huge throng for a full minute. Then a woman screamedg men shoutedg uproar, panic. Exit-doors fell under the terrorized rush of the mob, and, needless to say, many were injured in the panic, but for- tunately no deaths resulted. It is impossible to arrive at any theory, though it is rumored that there is some connection between the phenomenon and the hyponotist's turn. The savants scout this idea as impossible and advise the authorities to search for some practical joker, who has used some unheard of means of launching into mid-air the picture of the monster. At present, this is the theory the police are following, and it is hoped the matter will be cleared up before evening. The Pantheon management are natur- ally disturbed, but apparently the show will go on as usual tonight. What do you think of that, Jotson ? Is this my chance, said the detective eagerly. The medical man Was all excitement. Most assuredly, Sholmes, and the best of allg the chance to solve a problem for thousands of l'arisians. llon't wait to be asked Hill-r your services. That will l. Jotson, and at the moment, said the detective, rising. t'onn- with me to the Pantheon. where we shall be sure to find the niauagt-r. It was no great distance to the music hall. and the two, dispensing with a cab, hurried through the snow- covered streets as best they could. and arrived at the Pautheon shortly after ten. As they expected the man- ager was in his oflice, but with the police. llere was occasion for Sholmes' greatest annoyance being displayed. The police had again and again obstructed his actions and, though the most generous of men he was now accustomed to treat them with cold contempt. Un the back of his card he wrote in English: Have confidence I can solve your problem in 2-1 hours. See me at once. please. The stage-door porter was sent up with the message, returning in a trice with the news that Mon- sieur Flaubert would see them at once. Buoyecl with a new hope, Sholmes dragged the doctor up a narrow flight of stairs, where they had to give way to four official gentlemen of the stamp the detective had long hated. Hut he was politeness itself and stood aside to allow the otli- cers a comfortable passage down the stairs. Flaubert was at his door to meet them, and in broken English he welcomed them effusively: Enter, messieurs, I have need of you. You will save to me the good name, n'est-ce pas? Sholmes, while choosing a comfortable chair, reassured his host and asked him to tell his story carefully, omitting nothing. He did so, adding nothing to the newspaper account except that he gave greater horror to the apparition: a great distorted body of human shape with a skull for head, and long gorilla-like arms that clawed the air for a victim. Sholmes saw nothing was to be gained from his tale, so started a series of questions that the manager answered impatiently. How long have you been in the theatre business, monsieur? I am occupied in it since twenty-two years, M. Sholmes, and have no trouble of no matter what sort. That is not true, returned Sholmes quickly. When was that picture of yours taken'. ' The detective was pointing to a cabinet portrait of the man- ager on his desk. Less than a year ago, was the halting reply. Well, Sholmes went on. that is the picture of a man of not more than fifty, while today you look not a day under sixty-five. But, monsieur. figure to yourself how much I am deranged. This horrible affair has given me twenty years of more, said the Frenchman, wringing his hands. No, returned Sholmes, that would not cause you to lose twenty or thirty pounds. have your face so creased with lines. or streak your hair with white. all in one night. No, my friend. you will have to tell me of the danger that has been hanging over you since last year before I go a step farther in your case. If not, I shall tell you myself in two or three hours, so please save me this valuable time. You astound me, monsieur. stammered the man- ager : how can a little affair of a great singer given to the 1-. No, impossible. You have deceived yourself. monsieur. I can tell you nothing to aid. Very well, said the detective impatiently. good morning, but before I go. let me have two seats in the stalls for the second house tonight, and after the per- formance or the panic I shall be waiting here to reveal the joker. Forgive me. monsieur. you are too kind. but I assure you in a manner of the most sincere that I am incapable of to aid you. But here are places: my signature on this card to you makes the house free. Sholmes took the card and pushed Jotson before him towards the door. Once outside, the detective was a new man: his step was quicker and more springy. while he chatted in the most aimless fashion about the weather. But. hardly had they left the theatre five minutes behind when he stopped Jotson and said quickly: You see, don't you '?

Page 13 text:

TRINITY tiOl,I.l later, as the curtain rose on the opening number, a musical one. At first. Sholmes paid no attention to the stage, but schooled Jotson in his part, simply that he was to be the ordinary theatre-goer and to keep his eyes on the hypuotist all through his turn. The detective then sank into a reverie and only came to when the card went up announcing: Ilarley, the Hypnotist. The stage then showed a weird assortment of property: an electric chair with all its horrid paraphe1'nalia, a black-velvet covered box, long black curtains in the background, two sable black cats on the box, and three I-Iindus as assist- ants. To the music of In a Persian Market, the principal entered, also clad in black: a tall, thin man, with nothing startling in his appearance, but a tremendous strength of face lit up the most compelling eyes Sholmes had ever seen. He opened with the usual hypnotising of his servants, making them do ridiculous things in their trance. Then with the cats as his genii he caused one of the Hindus to carry the huge chest like a feather which the three together could not lift when free from the spell, and so on. Apparently his tour de force was coming, whatever that was, as the audience was plainly expectant. Everything was cleared from the stage but two Hindus, and Harley turned to the audience to speak. Jotson played his part while Sholmes was watching the floor in another dream. Suddenly the de- tective felt a madman's clutch on his arm, Jotson was on his feet, fighting his way along the passage between chairsg the panic was again in full swing, even the occupants of the stage were terror-stricken, but Sholmes saw no reason for excitement. He was satisfied. Jotson was lost in the mob, but the detective battled his way along the passage he had taken and found him at last a sorry figure, crumpled up in a settee in the foyer. Quick, said Sholmes, pull yourself together: there's work to do. You saw it, eh? Well, come with me. With that he marched Jotson outside, round to the stage-door, and up to the managers room. Poor Flaubert was a terrible spectacle, when they entered. Flanked by two detectives of the Surete, he was crying like a child and bemoaning the ruin of his theatre. Sholmes stopped him short, and asked him to lead the way to Harley's room. 'lt I IC SVIIOUI, ltI'It'0Itll ll They were lltllll' too soon for the hypnotist yta- on tbc point ol' leaving. Well, Klonsiclir llarlcy. tlicrt-'s one man you didn't reckon on in the audience. and bc has come to arrest you. Utliccrs, arrest this man. Ilarley made no resistance, but sat down on tht- nearest chair with the air of a much inalign--d indix idnal. The detectives, however, watched hiin close-ly, while Flaubert was asking Sholmes to explain. I-'irst lct nic use the telephone, said the detectixt- llt- called the l'refecture, got Lecoq at once, and spoke rapidly. asking him to have Count Ladislas Waleski arrested as soon as they could lay hands on him. 'llhen he turned to the anxious manager. Well, Monsieur I laubert. to put it shortly and simply, Ilarley hypnotised the whole house bllt me, because I was prepared. lt's the same trick as I believe responsible for the Indian rope business: you know, where a boy shins up a rope, with a Ilindn at his heels with a knife in his teeth, and up. tip ont ot' sight. until one by one the boys severed limbs come tumbling down, and so forth. It's possible, and tonight rind last night he put the whole house in a momentary trance, even Jotson here. I remained immune because I counted the buttons on the chair in front of me. 'l'hat's the way. isn't it, Harley ? As long as the mind is busily occupied on something totally unrelated to the general situation it cannot be enslaved. The telephone bell rang. and Sholmes took up the receiver and said after a minute: Yes, good, then you'll get him as he comes in. Hanging up, he turned to his amazed listeners. The Comte Waleski will be in Lecoq's hands within half an hour. That's the man, isn't it, Harley 7 The hypnotist merely nodded. I called on you today, by the way. in the Rue d'An,iou where Waleski's man, I think, led me. to solve my simplest case. I only wanted to confirm the relations between you and the Comte. The 'ghost' never gave me any anxiety, as long as a master hypnotist was on the bill. The only thing that still troubles me is why you could have been so foolish to undertake something that was bound to be laid at your door. Harley spoke at last in a mysterious voice: That you will never know, M. Sholmes, clever as you are. Whatever the cost, I had to do it, that's all. .L fliarul Across the seas, across the tossing seas, The echoes of the Xmas bells ring clear, And all the air is full of whispered songs That from cathedral, or from village street, Rise shrill upon the frosty air, to join In one grand anthem, sweetly harmonized, The lowly carol on the doorstep, sung By children's half-starved voices, as they seek The hard-earned penny for the Christmas toy, Yet wakes an echo in the hearer's breast: An echo of a far-off melody, First heard by shepherds in Judaean fields. - As, huddled in their mantles 'gainst the frost, Their eyes were dazzled by the angelic choir, That sang their Gloria to the little Child. And wrote that anthem in the starry skies, That softly, as the falling snow, descends Upon the earth of faith. Sing, children, sing: Sing high, sing low, and with your carolling Encircle all the lands of Christendom With Christmas harmony and Christmas love, That rich and poor, young and old, may be United in the worship of a Babe Whose name to all was Love, whose message Peace! -Feast of St. Nicholas, 1926. -S. S. H. 'llulr Gibr- Haul again the Yule-log, Pray once more for snow, Cut again the holly bough. Anew a-sleighing go. Let hands and feet all tingle Nor care though they are blue. By night lie round the ingle. tAt Yule all tales are true.l In bed recall wild stories Of men their blood-thirst slaking, Of cruel doings 'neath the moon, And loaded gibbets creaking. Watchful wait in darkness For night-stirrings of the dead. For sight of ghostly garments Below a ghostly head. This do as did your forbears. Have every old bell chime. Keep fresh and green and ever-new The joys at Christmas time.