The Jade God
Anson Hogarth, Armchair Detective, Solves Another Mystery
ANSON HOGARTH was finishing breakfast when Bracey walked in. He wore a loose bath robe that outshone the garment of Benjamin in point of variety of colors, and a smoking cap, rusty with age and minus its tassel. On a rickety-legged table beside him stood a breakfast tray which had been sent in from the little Dutch restaurant on the next street. On the other side
of his chair was a pile of morning papers. Hogarth seldom left his rooms and thus was compelled to keep in touch with the outside world by close reading of newspapers and periodicals ; a method not entirely satisfactory as he was often forced to confess when engaged on a case of more than usual difficulty.
Brandon Bracey was a young club man of good family and ample income who kept himself amused and at the same time gave scope to a natural talent for the work by acting as an investigating associate with Hogarth ; in which capacity he was extremely useful, as Hogarth, although he had solved scores of cases that had baffled the police, never stirred from his armchair when professionally engaged. Bracey seated himself on a brown leather couch facing Hogarth.
“The Portland Street Case?” queried Hogarth.
“I know it must be something important or you wouldn’t get around as early as this.”
“What case is that?” asked the other. “I haven’t seen the morning papers yet.”
Hogarth selected a paper from the pile on the floor and pointed to the leading news story, featured under a three column heading.
“The body of a man was found about one o’clock • this morning on a deserted corner of Portland street,” he said. “Murders in that section are, of course, quite an ordinary occurrence and usually of too brutal and obvious a type to present any points of interest whatever. This case diverges from the usual run of homicide in rather a marked degree, however. When the police found the body, they imagined it was a case of death from want or exposure for, on a cursory examination, absolutely no marks were found to indi-
cate violence. They were puzzled by the appearance of the skin, which had turned a peculiar mottled brown. When the coroner arrived he discovered a small perforation behind the ear at a point where it was possible to reach the brain, and it is his opinion that death had been brought about in that way. The papers give absolutely no other details, but the case has the earmarks of a really interesting problem.”
“First I had heard of it,” said Bracey.
“Then it’s the Hallam robbery you have come to see me about,” said Hogarth, pushing away the breakfast tray and luxuriously stretching himself. “The papers have a bare announcement of the theft.”
“Yes, it’s the Hallam case,” said Bracey. “Locksley Byrne is downstairs now. I wouldn’t bring him up until I’d
found if you were willing to hear his story of the theft. The case has its good points.”
“On your recommendation, I’ll hear it,” said Hogarth. “Bring him up,” A moment later Bracey ushered in a young fellow of about thirty years of age, tall, well set up and with the indolent bearing of the man of leisure. Locksley Byrne was a millionaire in his own right and heir presumptive to one of the largest fortunes in America. He was the possessor among other assets and liabilities, of a racing stable, a steam yacht, a debonair air that made him irresistible with women and an ungovernable temper that had several times brought him into contact with the law. Hogarth, who was shortsi gh ted, adjusted his glasses carefully and scrutinized his visitor with fixed and frank interest.
“Mr. Byrne was present at the dinner given by Douglas Hallam in his apartments last night when Hallam’s priceless jade charm was stolen,” said Bracey, without any formalities. “He wants the matter sifted thoroughly and came to me for advice. I took the liberty of bringing him to you.”
“It’s this way,” broke in Byrne impetuously. “There were six of us in all at this dinner party of Dug Hallam’s and not one in the crowd that couldn’t buy pretty much anything he wanted. Why, the idea of a robbery taking place in such a party is ridiculous —incredible. Just the same, when Hallam brings out this heathenish charm it vanishes off the table and no one knows where it’s gone. We examine the room thoroughly and then each man is searched in turn. Still no trace is found of the charm. And that’s how matters stand.
“What I don’t like about it is that Dug Hallam is pretty waxy and, of course, he thinks one of us stole his charm. Until it’s found, each one of us is going to be under a cloud more or less and I don’t intend to stand for that, not for one minute! There’s something fishy about the whole business, and I want it investigated thoroughly. I’m ready to stand any expense”—
“Yes, yes,” said Hogarth. “Perhaps
you will be good enough to tell us the whole story, Mr. Byrne, starting at the very beginning and omitting no details, no matter how trivial and inconsequential they may seem to you. If his narrative leaves any points obscure, Bracey, I’ll depend on you to bring the facts out by cross examination.”
With many promptings, therefore, from the amateur detective, Byrne told the story of the Hallam dinner party. Hogarth sat huddled back in his chair throughout the recital, his gaze fixed on some point in space. Byrne regarded the seeming indifference of his auditor with visible impatience, and on several occasions had to be urged to continue the story by Bracey.
It will now be necessary to revert to the events of the preceding evening in order to lay before the reader the story that Byrne in circuitous manner unfolded to the two detectives.
DOUGLAS HALLAM was the son of
a Pittsburg millionaire but it was only on rare occasions that he visited the Smoky City. After completing his course at Harvard—or rather, after his spectacular term and a half had been brought to an abrupt end by the long suffering authorities-—he settled down in luxurious apartments in New York City. The father, whose fondness for his son was in direct ratio to his financial resources, allowed him an elastic income that could be stretched to cover any whim or form of extravagance. Young Hallam, doubtless, would have degenerated rapidly into a high-class drunkard if he had not providentially been seized early by a craze for collecting curios. There is no habit more deadly than the collection craze especially if one has the money to pursue the hobby on a wide scale. Hallam could not spare money for chorus girls and champagne suppers because he spent every available cent in the antique shops and in dingy second-hand stores. His rooms were soon filled to overflowing with odd pieces of
furniture, relics of bygone days, jewels, jades, miniatures, armor and the countless other articles that appeal to the curio hunter. His hobby gained him the reputation of being both eccentric and parsimonious. However, he was well liked enough and he traveled in the most exclusive younger set of New York.
When Hallam entertained—which was not often, for obvious reasons—he made it a point to do things on a most thorough scale. Furthermore, he had the happy and rare faculty of selecting his guests with a view to their mutual compatibility. A guest at any of Douglas Hallam’s exclusive little dinners was sure of pleasant and stimulating company. Hallam’s acquaintance among interesting people was
On the previous evening he had entertained a select party of five in the apartments. There was Frank Farthing, club man, blasé idler but unexcelled raconteur and table wit; Hamilton Carstairs, the actor, at present starring in the latest sensational problem play; Locksley Byrne, youthful millionaire who held the highest rating in the matrimonial Bradstreet of any “eligible” in New York; Burnside Jackson, son of Jacob Jackson of mineral water fame and fortune—the very same “Bud” Jackson who captained America’s polo cup team and was ringleader in every society frolic ; and Gordon Saunderson, the rising author. It proved a well balanced combination and, as Hallam’s choice of viands had been unusually happy, the party promised at the start to be a great success.
The one deterring feature was the absence of Charles. No dinner at Douglas Hallam’s was complete without Charles. A remarkable combination of loyalty, efficiency and resourcefulness, Charles was Planchet, Bazin and Grimaud rolled into one, the very beau ideal of valets. His presence at the sideboard meant that the dinner would be done to a turn, the wines cooled to just the right degree and the service rapid and perfect. Charles was generally an active helper in Hallam’s curio hunts.
“I say, Hallam, where’s old Charles?” protested Burnside Jackson, when they had obeyed the summons of the dinner
gong, to find a stranger in charge of the dining-room.
“Took sick to-day so I ordered him off for a rest,” explained Hallam.
“That’s a funny thing,” put in Farthing. “I saw Charles downstairs when I came in. He was at the other end of the hall.”
“Must be mistaken,” said Hallam, who had inherited in a partial degree the habit of laconic speech that had earned for his father the sobriquet of “Sphinx” Hallam. “Old Charles went out to his brother’s at Passaic. In bed with all sorts of plasters and things, sure.”
“No,” declared Farthing, positively, “I saw Charles downstairs. There’s no mistaking those sideburns of his.”
The oysters were served at this juncture and the party fell to without further discussion of the whereabouts of the inimitable Charles. His substitute acquitted himself with distinction, for the dinner was well prepared and neatly served. The only mistake he made all evening was in handing a note that had been delivered for Locksley Byrne to Burnside Jackson by mistake ; a miscue which might have been serious as the two men were bitter rivals in business, sport and, just at this time, in love.
At Hallam’s stag affairs, dinner was generally followed by a stiff game of poker but on this occasion the party showed a tendency to loll back in their chairs in lazy contentment and to talk.
“What have you picked up lately, Dug?” asked Farthing, patronizingly; for Hallam’s hobby was somewhat of a joke among the other men of his set.
Hallam told them briefly of several finds he had made—a Watteau miniature, a jade pendant, a mediaeval dagger, that had belonged to a notorious robber baron who had made atonement for his early misdeeds by going on a Crusading jaunt. Finally he looked at his watch. “Don’t want to take up too much time with my hobbies,” he said, “but I have something with a story attached to it that you ought to see—”
He plunged his hand into an upper vest pocket and brought out a small, sparkling article. He deposited it on the table in front of him. It was a jade god, squat and
hideous with a leer in its carven features that reflected all the mysticism and malignacy of the Orient. The figure was thickly incrusted with jewels and quite obviously was valuable beyond ordinary computation. The company stared at it as though held by a spell. No comments were uttered.
“It’s a charm,” began Hallam, “and worth an enormous sum, though I got it dirt cheap. How I got it is a story that will have to wait. It was something of an adventure and—well, it would hardly be safe to tell yet.”
“That charm,” he went on, “belonged originally in a temple of a mystic religion, the name of which has never been heard by a white man. Somewhere around the border line of Thibet and India there’s a little country that is known only to the few explorers who have penetrated into that strange part of the world. It’s a heavily-wooded, hilly country and the temple is situated in the wildest and most inaccessible part. Just what significance attached to the jade god I am not in a position to say. This I do know, that it was regarded as most sacred by the ministering priests; and, when it was stolen by a band of raiding hillsmen, its recovery became the lifework of the priesthood.
“Since that time, the charm has wandered all over the face of the earth and been in the possession of several people. It is said that no one has ever had it for more than six months and that at the expiration of that period it has always mysteriously disappeared. It’s all bosh, of course, but by a coincidence that I can vouch for, the last two owners of the jade god have certainly held it for exactly that length of time only.
“It’s also said that the emissaries of the priesthood are still ceaselessly tracing the sacred jade. The story has it that they are men with strange powers, conjurors on a colossal scale, capable of performing weird feats and masters of subtle and deadly poisons. Don’t believe all this myself, of course, but I’m giving you the story for what it’s worth.”
There was a pause while all members of the party stared at the inscrutable little jade god squatting cross-legged in true Oriental style and returning their curious glances with fixed leer.
“By the way, how long have you had it?” asked Saunderson, finally.
“Just six months to-day,” replied Hallam.
There was a stir at that. No one in the party attached any weight to the story; even Hallam seemed disposed to make light of it. But there was something about the jade ornament itself that forbade levity and aroused a creepy, uneasy interest.
“A darned queer trinket, that,” said Burnside Jackson, reaching out as though to pick it up—and then drawing back his hand. “Mighty close you’ve been about it, Hallam. Here you’ve had this sacred thingumbob for six months and never made a peep to anyone about it.”
“Silence was one of the conditions on which I obtained it," said Hallam quietly. “Now that six months are up I’m free to talk about it as I like.”
A knock came at the door leading from the dining-room to the outer hall. It was a quick, decisive, double rap but Charles’ substitute, who was in the next room and must have heard it, made no move to answer the door. Accordingly Hallam himself got up and, in so doing, upset a fancy brass table with ash tray that stood at his right hand. Farthing picked it up while Hallam went to the door. The latter returned almost immediately with a te’egram in his hand. He opened the envelope and hastily glanced over the enclosed blank, then crumpled up envelope and paper together and threw them into the waste paper basket.
Seating himself at the table again, Hallam’s gaze wandered over the surface of the table and then, with a startled rapidity, at the men seated around the board. Each member of the company was doing the same thing, he found.
For the jade god had disappeared!
“Please, fellows, no practical jokes,” said Hallam. “Don’t want to seem touchy but the way things are it makes me nervous to lose sight of it.”
There was another pause. The five guests looked at one another impatiently, even a little anxiously.
“I haven’t it,” said Hamilton Carstairs, finally.
“Nor I,” declared Saunderson.
“Nor I,” echoed the others.
“Don’t carry the joke any farther,” pleaded Hallam, beginning to show worry. “I’ll be thinking all sorts of things about priests and poisons and spells, if that jade god is out of my sight another minute! Come on, hand it out.”
At that each man protested vehemently that he had not touched the god ; that one minute it had been on the table and the next time he looked it had disappeared. They searched under the cloth, then under the table and the rug. They ransacked the room with thoroughness; but no sign of the jade god was found.
When the six men gathered about the table again, there were signs of trouble. The guests seemed fully as excited as their host over the strange disapnearance; and each man wore a perplexed and angry frown.
“I have an idea,” said Saunderson. “There was a story in a magazine that I was reading not so long ago, about just such an occurrence as this. A ring disappeared off a table—a very valuable article. If I remember the story right, they decided to see if it couldn’t be secured without the identity of the taker being revealed. So they turned the lights off in the room and all stood close around the table for one minute. On the fiftyfifth second there was a clatter on the table and, when the lights went on, there was the ring. Suppose—we try it on?”
“But see here,” protested Hallam, “that would make it look as though I suspected one of you.”
“Well,” said Saunderson, grimly, “it’s gone, isn’t it?”
Accordingly, the serving man was summoned and instructed to turn the lights out and to leave the room, returning in a minute to switch the lights on again. The
six men stood around the table, silently, as darkness fell. There was a tense pause.
And then was demonstrated the difference between what may be made to happen in fiction and what occurs in actual life. The minute slowly ticked away and there was no sound but the breathing of the six men around the board. No rattle on the table was heard to indicate an aroused conscience or an awakened fear in the mind of the purloiner of the jade god. Charles’ substitute returned noisily and switched on the lights.
There was another moment of silence. “There’s nothing to it,” said Carstairs, finally ; and proceeded to take off his coat.
Each man in turn, including Hallam and the serving man who was called in, submitted to a thorough search. No trace of the charm was found.
“Never mind, you chaps,” said Hallam, who had returned to his chair and was sitting with his head in his hands. “Just let’s not worry about it any more. It’ll turn up all right around here. A damned queer thing but—let’s get to the cards.” A feeling of relief was at once manifested among the guests, with the exception of Locksley Byrne who continued to frown darkly. This sportsmanlike acceptance of his loss by their host broke the tension. Clearly there was nothing more that could be done.
“We’re all awfully sorry, Dug,” said Jackson. “But no one seems to have it so it must be around the room. It’ll turn up when your man sweeps out to-morrow. Don’t worry, old chap.”
They even made a pretence of settling down to a game of poker, Hallam himself producing the cards. Locksley Byrne picked up the cards dealt to him, spread them fanwise with an impatient gesture, then threw them down and squared himself determinedly in his chair.
“But see here,” he protested. “Supposing the thing doesn’t turn up?”
“If it doesn’t that’s all there will be to it,” said Hallam with a well-assumed smile of unconcern. “If it’s lost it’s through my own carelessness.”
“No,” said Byrne, stubbornly. “That wouldn’t be the end of it. It would always be thought it had been stolen. No one would think anything else. And each one of the five of us would be suspected more or less. Now I, for one, don’t intend to let any share of such a suspicion rest on me. There’s something funny about this business and it’s going to be cleared up now !
“By Jove! You’re right, Lock,” said Jackson. “I don’t want people to think me a sneak-thief any more than you do.”
“But what can be done?” asked Hallam, with a gesture of finality. “We’ve done everything we can, haven’t we,”
There was a moment of silence.
“This seems to me to be the best thing to do,” said Hamilton Carstairs. “Let us go in a body to the nearest police station, locking the place up. We can be searched again there. If the charm doesn’t turn up, leave the keys with the police and have them take possession of these roms, letting none of us in until the mystery is
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Continued, from Page 35.
solved. That should free us from any suspicion of theft.”
Despite Hallam’s earnest protests that it was quite unnecessary, the party locked up the apartments and traveled in a body to the nearest police station, where they told their story and submitted in turn to a second search. Detectives were sent back to the rooms with instructions to search them thoroughly. And the net result was again the same.
Each man then went home, Hallam going along with Burnside Jackson on the latter’s invitation.
“It’s all right, fellows,” he said cheerfully, to the downcast party before they separated. “It’s now quite certain that none of you have it, so you don’t need to worry any more. Guess the mysterious priests got it. Case of black magic. Goodnight, all of you.”
But Locksley Byrne was still not satisfied. He had heard that Brandon Bracey, a club acquaintance had something of a reputation as an amateur detective and, on leaving the police station, he proceeded at once to Bracey’s rooms. The latter luckily had just come in from the theatre and listened to the story of the strange theft with interest. It did not take much urging to get him to work on the case. They visited the police station again and Bracey, whose connection with Anson Hogarth had won him official recognition, readily obtained permission to visit Hallam’s rooms. He spent a full hour there. In the morning he took Byrne along to lay the case before the armchair wizard.
**T SEARCHED the apartments thor-
* oughly,” reported Bracey after Byrne had finished his story. “There was, of course, no trace of the missing article. I did find one thing, however, which should throw some light on the case.”
He glanced at Anson Hogarth, who still sat huddled up in his chair in an attitude that did not betoken a very keen interest in the matter. The latter straightened up and nodded slightly.
“I found the telegram and the envelope in which it came where Hallam had thrown them into the waste basket. The strange part about it is that there was not a word written either on the telegram or the envelope. Apparently he had opened the envelope, made a pretence of reading the message and then crumpled them up and thrown them away.”
“That clears the whole thing up,” said Hogarth, with a laugh. “A very transparent case, Bracey. I got a little light as the story unfolded but the telegram episode cleared up the last doubt.”
“But wait,” admonished Bracey. “I haven’t told you all. On the back of the envelope is a message scrawled in lead pencil. Better read it before drawing any conclusions.”
Hogarth took the crumpled envelope that Bracey handed him, smoothed it out and studied the message that had been pencilled on the back. It read as follows : Sir,—I am being followed. There are two of them, both short and yellow, much like Chinese. Can it have any connection with the warning?
It was several moments before Hogarth spoke. He carefully examined the handwriting which gave evidence of having been done in a hurry.
“This lends confirmation to the other salient facts on which the solution rests,” he said slowly, “but it also introduces an entirely new phase of the case, one of strange possibilities. As to what happened in Hallam’s apartments, there can be no doubt on that score. Find Hallam’s man Charles before he gets in touch with Hallam and you will find the jade god. Charles has it.”
“But,” demurred Byrne, far from convinced, “how could he get it? Who took it off the table?”
“Hallam himself,” said Hogarth in quite a matter of fact tone. “If the reasons for arriving at this conclusion are not entirely clear to you, I will run over the main points for you.”
“I’ll be much interested in finding out what grounds you have for suspecting
Hallam,” said Byrne, with a dry laugh. “I assure you the reasons are not entirely clear to me.”
“There is nothing of suspicion about it,” replied Hogarth. “It is really quite selfevident.”
“There is one logical point from which our investigation must start,” he went on. “The missing article was not carried out of the apartments by any one of the six men who were present in the room when the theft occurred. You were all searched before leaving. Walking in a body, it would be impossible for any one of you to dispose of it en route. Arriving at the police station you were all searched again ; and ability to make a thorough search is one of the few qualifications that can safely be ascribed to the police. We are quite justified in assuming, therefore, that the jade god was not carried out of the apartments by any of you.
“On the other hand it is equally clear that the article was not left in the apartments. Immediately after the matter was put in their hands, the police searched the rooms thoroughly. Mr. Bracey has himself gone over them since. I feel absolutely certain, therefore, that the article is no longer on the premises.
“Only one explanation of its disappearance is left to be considered therefore. The article was taken away between the time that it was missed from the table and the time when you all left and locked the rooms up. Only one man in the party had any opportunity to accomplish this—Hallam himself. You will remember he went to the door to receive the telegram. What easier than to palm the charm to the man outside when the envelope changed hands?
“But now let us see how this explanation fits the facts of the case. Everything points to Hallam’s having arranged for a messenger to call at that very time. Supposing it was necessary to have the interruption occur immediately after the telling of the story. It would, of course be necessary to start the story at a certain length of time before the time set for the arrival of the messenger. Hallam looked at his watch before starting to tell about his jade god.
“When the knock came, the serving man did not make any move to answer it, despite the fact that he had ansivered the door before when the message arrived for Byrne. Why did he not answer in this case, unless he had received instructions not to answer a call which would come at a certain time? You will remember also that the knock was in the nature of a ‘quick, decisive, double rap’ — in other words one that could be distinguished from the knock of any person who might come on any other business. It is logical to suppose that the precaution of arranging a distinctive rap would have been taken.
“Again, when Hallam got up to answer the door, he knocked over a brass table at his right hand. A man living in rooms crowded with valuable curios mostly all of a decidedly breakable description, would soon acquire a rare degree of care in all his movements. It was an exhibition of unusual clumsiness, the upsetting of the table; but see the valuable purpose it may have served. A certain amount of
•confusion was created; all eyes were for the moment withdrawn from the table. The opportunity was thus created to ■cleverly palm the jade from the table without its disappearance being immediately noted. And remember, Hallam immediately walked to the door to receive a fake telegram !
“That last point, of course, is the strongest proof we have against him. The fact that he accepted a telegram without any address on it without making any comment, that he opened it, pretended to peruse a blank sheet of paper and then carefully crumpled up both envelope and telegram blank and threw them away is convincing proof that the summons had been carefully planned in advance. Taken in conjunction with the other facts of the case, as I have outlined them, it becomes absolutely certain that Hallam himself had taken the charm and had smuggled it out by the messenger.
“If any further proof is necessary consider his subsequent conduct. After the room and each member of the party had been searched—measures not proposed by himself—he was prepared to let the matter drop. When Carstairs proposed the trip to the police station and the locking of the apartments he opposed the idea very energetically. Apparently he was satisfied with a more or less perfunctory effort to solve the mystery.
“The identity of the messenger who delivered the bogus telegram is the next point to be considered. It is significant that Hallam’s old serving man was absent on this particular evening. Charles is described as loyal, efficient and resourceful. We know that he often assisted Hallam in his curiosity hunting trips. He would undoubtedly be the logical person for Hallam to select for this work. Hallam’s explanation of his absence was that he had been taken sick, but Farthing was positive he had seen Charles below when he entered the building that evening. As a clinching argument let me point out that the message scribbled on the back of the envelope began ‘Sir’ and was signed ‘C.’ It is therefore, an established point to all intents and purposes that the messenger who brought the telegram and carried away the jade god was Charles himself.
“It may be thought that the message written on the back of the envelope was the reason for its delivery; which, of course, would seriously upset my line of reasoning. But the fact that a telegram blank was enclosed in a sealed envelope shows that the note written on the back was an afterthought. Charles wrote the message after he had prepared the bogus telegram ; probably he did not know until that late that he was being followed. You will notice that the writing shows signs of hurry and I should say, of some agitation as well. Then the fact that Hallam accepted the unaddressed envelope and opened it is of significance as it shows he was expecting to receive it. Possibly he did not notice the writing on the back at all.
“It is perhaps not as difficult to find the motive as it would at first seem. Conjectures which might be made from the general evidence in the case are strength-
ened by the startling information contained in Charles’ note. I am convinced that Hallam believed an effort would be made to take the jade god away from him. He probably believed in the story he told last night and may have been living in expectation of the coming of strange priests from a far away country —men with occult powers. It is certainly true that Hallam prized the jade above anything he possessed. It was the bright gem of his collection and, if he were animated with the zeal of the confirmed collector—as I believe he was—he would endeavor to keep possession of it by almost any means. The likeliest explanation of the affair is that he sought to throw these unknown parties off the track by faking a robbery, cleverly playing on the tradition that the article mysteriously changed hands every six months.
“A new element, and one that I confess is strangely disturbing, enters with Charles’ note. He refers to the fact that he is being followed by two men, short and yellow and adds can it have anything to do with the warning? Is there then any truth in this story that the priests of an unknown creed have been tracing a stolen image that was sacred in their eyes? Are we to judge that Hallam had already received warning that the image would be taken from him?
“As there is no satisfactory evidence, we can only indulge in conjecture on these points. The case appeals to me, however, as passing strange. If our guess proves to be the truth then the deception that Hallam has attempted may prove a very serious matter for him. I would advise that he be seen without delay.”
During the latter part of Hogarth’s exposition he had frequently been interrupted by the loud shouts of newsboys on the streets below calling out extras. He now directed Bracey’s attention to this and asked that a copy be secured for him. Bracey returned in a minute or so and silently handed the sheet to the armchair detective. This was what Hogarth read, spread across seven columns in large’ type:
PORTLAND STREET MYSTERY SOLVED.
Body found this morning proves to be that of Albert Charles, valet of Douglas Hallam, who himself figured last night in a sensational robbery case—Charles was the victim of an unknown poison, injected into the brain—Strange features of a most mysterious case.
For a moment there was silence in the
“The jade god is on its way back to the temple where it belongs,” said Hogarth.
A compact and portable electric fan for sleeping-car berths, now being introduced, is operated by the current used for lighting the car. The blades are inclosed in a light but substantial woven-wire guard, so thatlt is impossible for the fan to cause injury to the passenger or damage to the car fittings. The fan is designed to be hung up in the berth, and measures but 4% inches in diameter over all.