Brworratic Watch.
Bellefonte, Pa.,, March 18, 1032.
EE ————————
THE LITTLE HOUSE
The Little House has windows small
And not a great expansive roof,
like the monarch's castle hall
‘Tis snug and warm and weather-
proof.
those who are its tenants gay
Find that it keeps the wind away.
little house holds nothing more
Than just the necessary things,
safe behind the modest door
A lullaby the mother sings,
the wee baby she cradles there
Knows all the dreams of childhood
fair.
Yet
And
The
Yet
little house, from day to day,
Is opened wide to friends who call;
neighbors just across the way
Share every care that may befall.
mansions polished through and
through?
The little house is spotless, too!
not with
Nor cost,
play;
griefs the humble cottage knows
The castle cannot Keep away.
house where hearts in concord beat
size contentment goes
nor splendor's rich dis-
§ 7
Needs little more to be complete.
LOGIC
At 8 o'clock on the morning of
September 5, Eric Lambert, senior
partner of the brokerage firm of
Lambert, Hope & Maitland, finished
a hasty breakfast in a suite of a
midtown New York hotel. He spoke
rapidly, incisively to the pert, blonde
woman who sat opposite him and
who was not Mrs. Lambert.
“This is the end, Alla, absolutely.
My wife has threatened—"
She cut him off sharply.
“Let her threaten. I'll do some
threatening, too. You can't drop me
like this.” Her voice rose stridently.
“Ill kill you first.”
At almost the same hour, John
Hope, second ranking member of the
firm, was breakfasting
in their home at Beach Point, Long
Island. Neither spoke until the meal
was half finished. Then Hope thrust
his plate away.
“Look here, Nina, this disgusting
affair between you and Tommy Ove-
lyn has gone for enough. That epi-
sode of last evening capped the cli-
max."
Nina Hope dropped the morning
paper in her lap and countered with
the lash of her own anger.
“Nothing I've ever done, or ever
will do, can equal your carrying on
with half a dozen women I know.
Shall I name a few?”
Hope kicked his chair away and
rose. “That's a lie and an evasion,
I've warned you, if you keep on I'll
beat him to a pulp.”
“If you do anythihg,” she said
evenly, “anything to
like that, I won't be responsible for
what happens to you.”
Malcolm Maitland, est of the
partners, halted at the door of his
bachelor apartment along the re-
claimed East River waterfront and
raised a warning finger.
“Wilton, you're a dammed crook.
But I'll give you a chance. Have
those studs here by tonight. If you
don't you go to jail.”
Shortly after 3 o'clock the next
morning reports from three district
police stations followed one another
inte Beniiuns tere aia thence to the
y rooms o e city's newspapers.
“Eric Lambert, head of a broker-
age outfit, well known, just found
dead in library of his home. Lives
at 5 West 69th street. Head crushed
by blows from heavy weight.”
That was the first flash. Then the
Maitland, young b A
g in apartment. nite
g in his chest near
. Lives in Sulgrave - |
‘And the third: “John Hope, New
York Stock Exchange man, found
dead on lawn of his place at Beach
Point. Shot in throat. :
Relative serenity descended upon
the new rooms by noon of the same
day, but not upon the brow of Jo-
seph Phelps, city editor of
Morning Star. His cold, pale
sliced across the front of
hand and
battery of
q
that
“Ba
smiled obliquely.
“And you scooped the World,"
co !
“Well, he hasn't got anything on
a few police "
shook the sheet in his hand.
at that. Not a picture. Nothing but
a few shots ‘X' marks the
spot. And not adamm thing to show
what the victims looked like before
they lay on the ‘X'.”
He stopped, glared and lifted
another paper.
“And look at this, While you're
galloping after an ambulance the
Globe man walks right in Lambert's
front door and out with studio poses
of all three of 'em.” "et
“I thought our morgue——" Cos
grove began.
“Yes ” The word snipped the sen-
tence in half. “Yes, they did.
had files full. Taken twenty re
ago.” Ph id voice dropped in vol-
ume but picked up in intensity. “Now
Natén ) Ce a not rin you.
you're il :
“Don't take me ‘the ate hd
“Why not? TI ought to send you
to cover : in the Bronx.”
“Because—listen to this—{sp't it
logical-—" .
with his wife |
€ me
Cosgrove shrugged. “He's still un-|
Phelps |
“Look
| the table
assorting, marshaling
were the major developements of the
day:
x tailor's helper had hurried to
| police with the report that Lambert
and a woman had been in Room 611
| of the Hotel Boheme when he hung
|a freshly pressed suit in the service
| closet of the door the morning be-
fore the inurder.
He knew the man was Lambert
| because the name was stitched inside
the coat. Lambert, who called the
woman Alla, had said his wife was
| threatening him and “this is the
end.” The woman had become angry
and said she would kill him if he
| dropped her.
On Long Island, other detectives
had talked to the Hopes’ maid and
learned of the breakfast quarrel over
the attentions of Tommy Ovelyn. A
.32 caliber revolver with one ex-
ploded shell
behind a potted evergreen on the
! tile floor of the porch directly be-
neath Mrs. Hope's window and only
‘a few feet from where the body had |
been discovered. It was identified as
having belonged to the slain man.
No arrests had been made at that
point, but both had been subjected
to intensive questioning and were
under close surveillance.
Maitland had regained conscious-
ness in the hospital but was too
weak to talk and physicians held |
little hope for his recovery. Comb-
ing the apartment house at Sulgrave
Manor, police had held a floor maid
and the night elevator operator as
material witnesses—and on the
strength of their stories had arrest-
‘ed Horace Wilton, Maitland’s valet.
she heard him threaten Wilton with
arrest for stealing.
The night man was the last per-
son to see Maitland before he was
stabbed.
He said Maitland had called on
the house phone about 7:30 in the
evening and asked him to get some
‘aromatic spirits of ammonia. When
he returned with the medicine, he
found Maitland lying on a couch,
' very ill. The broker told him Wilton
| had disappeared and, while alone, he
had suffered a severe heart attack.
He fixed a dose of the ammonia, the
night man said, and assisted Mr.
| Maitland to his bedroom. He left
| after being assured that everything |
| would be all right.
Cosgrove riffled the pages ab-
stractedly for a moment.
cluding paragraph:
| “While police believe all three
‘cases are cleared up by the informa-
tion at hand, and the matter of in-'
dictments will be taken before the
County Grand Juries immediately,
nothing has been presented to ex-
plain the mysterious attacks upon
(all three members of the well-known
! investment firm.”
|
| stiff,” he muttered, “but it's
on forbidden word and smiled
grimly: “It’s just not common sense.”
That night, before he went to oed,
Cosgrove laid out a sheet of dra P- |
ing paper and divided it into three
} Sepual divisions with heavy penciled
| lines.
i In the first section he wrote
| “Lambert” and, beneath,
cand “Mrs. L.” The second he head-
of " "followed by “Mrs. H.”
*
LL
and in
a“
turn “Wilton,” “Hallboy” and
: with that he e the
| blank grayness of the ceil
| chewed at the stub of pencil.
“If the cops are wrong,” he said,
“I've got to prove that mobody they
suspect is guilty before I can find
{out who is.
{
|
i
1
i
i
added a set of questions beneath
El of A oan)
he could be answered each question
80 that the finished product read
er.
| four! blade. One thumt gr
| Beneath each name he the
‘query, “Time attacked?” t haz-
| arded no guess. That was one of the
‘at the Lambert home with his police
card in his
E
|
|
had been found lying
The floor maid said she was in a
linen room on the sixth floor (Mait-
land's) the previous morning, when
His eye
caught the first sentence of the con-'
“He made me add that, the big
not '
| coincidence—it’s just not logical——"
Cosgroye caught himself guiltily'
“Barron” i
Tn the third he wrote “Maitland,” in
and |
He reversed the moist pencil aud
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across a corner of the desk to de-
| liver the blow.
| “She couldn't have picked up 2
| fourteen-pound elephant at a place
| where the cast is six inches wide
| and it clear across that arc,”
| he told the ceiling.
!
| the news offices swirled around the
| axis of the murders; while the Grand
| Juries met solemnly to take testi-
| mony and to vote true bills Baming |
and |
{ police, holding Wilton, waited grim-
| Ella Barron and Nina Hope;
{ly for Maitland to die, James Cuy-
'ler Cosgrove banged a typewriter at
a rewrite desk from 11 to 7, putting
into articulate form the themes and!
theories of others.
What he did the rest of the way
around the clock no one seemed to
know, except that he slept little or
not at all. He was seen at Sulgrave
| Terrace, at the Lambert home, at
| the Lambert garage, at Beach Point,
| at the hospital where Maitland clung |
to a thread of life. And he was
closeted several times with the young
Assistant District Attorney, with a
man from homicide squad and with
the county authorities at Nassau.
disappeared. .
Phelps discovered it. At 11:15 he
saw the dusty cover still atop Cos-
grove's typewriter and grew inward-
ly sarcastic. At 11:45 he had an of-
fice boy telephone Cosgrove's rooms.
At 12:30 he was furious. And then
he remembered this was the sixth
day-—that the week of grace was up.
“The kid must have taken me
seriously,” he muttered. “He thinks
he's fired.”
For the moment Phelps ceased to
be a city editor and became human.
' He questioned members of the staff.
“Seen anything of Cosgrove?” No
one had.
At or about the same time, Jim
ve was unfolding the sheet
of wing paper and spreading it
,out on the creaky table of a cheap
hotel room in Philadelphia.
package. It was a pillbox which had
held a proprietary medicine and]
hence hore no druggist's label. The
wrapper was addressed to “Max
Mendlesohn.” in care of the hotel.
It had been insured and marked
“Hold.” In the upper left-hand cor-
ner was the name of the sender.
It read: “M. Mendlesohn, 57 West
48th street, N. Y. C.”
wool, were three black pearl dress
studs.
Cosgrove turned to the postal in-
-spector at his elbow.
“There's the answer,” he said
wearily. “The person who mailed
those stabbed Maitland.”
The echoing question was tinged
, with caustic.
“Why 7”
Cosgrove scowled.
“Use your head. They're Mait-
iland’'s studs—that's certain. Some-
‘body sent them here from a phony
address in New York—a vacant lot.
The same person wired this smelly
hotel the day before the
for a rvation for the fi
night. But they never showed up.”
e sat uptight and stabbed at the
| rows of :
?" Because they can't come.
Whoever it er dead, in jail,
hospital or under police guard
| and docsmt dare”
inspector grinned.
“Which narrows it down to about
ten persons.”
: Ho one person—because Maitland
vs who stuck knif "
wh ue a Rn
i
i
With
For five days, while the world of |
This for five days. On the sixth he
Beside the sheet lay an opened!
| transaudter; and a moment later,
“Gimme District Attorney Frascatti,
Canal 6-5{00, New York.
The crackle of static broke and a
gone to press and the “feeding-time"
had settled down upon the hive-
city room. It was 11:10. Phelps
lunching earnestly upon a pork-
sandwich when a gaunt and
-faced figure caromed off the
swing doors from
weaved unsteadily between the
| District Attorney Frascatti and two
| grim-faced rs.
| Phelps placed his sandwich on the
| ett with precise hand and eye.
| the fire in his voice lost some of its
searing quality for the {act that a
sizable chunk of pork chop made an
incongruous bulge upon his cheek.
The figure waved an impatient
smudge of fingers.
“I've got a confession,” it croakel
“Well, make it and get out.”
The figure stiffened.
fella. Your dammed murder mystery
solved.” Cosgrove scruktbed bony
knuckles across his temples and
pushed his hat far back on his head.
| He indicated the three men. “This
is Frascatti, of the D. A.'s office;
Postal Inspector Day and Detective
Lyons of the homicide squad.”
He winked at Phelps. “They've
solved the case, see, but I was abie
to help 'em a little, so they won't
break it for thirty minutes. We've
got a half-hour bust on the world.”
He swung around ard bawled
“Boy!” Then he turned back to
Phelps. “Take 'em in the studio and
get some nice exclusive pictures
while I write my lead.”
Phelp’s eyes traveled the arc of
the four faces. “Is this on the level 7?”
he demanded.
Three heads nodded. Cosgrove
sighed. From a coat pocket he with-
drew a fistful of crumpled manilla
covered with
sheets and envelopes,
heiroglyphics, names, addresses,
words. From the midst of the heap
he selected a folded letterhead, dis-
tinguished principally by its com-
parative cleanliness.
“Here's the confession,” he said.
Phelps skimmed through the writ-
ten line to the lower left-hand cor-
ner——the fraction of a second. Then
i* snapped shut.
“Here,” he said, “copy this quick.
I want to rush into the art room
for a layout.”
Cosgrove waved a limp hand.
know it by heart.”
. He turned his back on the other
| four and shuffled to his desk. The
{copy boy handed him a sheaf of
one into his typewriter. Then he
pulied the machine toward him until
it rested almost on his vest.
“Get me a quart of black coffee,”
the ordered and began to write:
By JAMES COSGRGOVE
ing Star Reproduction in whoie or in
part prohibited.
“That's all we can make for this
run. Bite it off somewhere. We'll re-
plate it in another column in half an
hour.”
| Phelps watched the last sheet on
[its way to the copy desk and pulled
'a chair beside Cosgrove's.
| “How did you break it?"
| The reporter's lips curled.
voice spat.
| “Logic,” he said.
| Phelps grinned. “Tell me about it.
| I didn't take time to read the story.”
{ From his coat pocket Cosgrove
murders pulled out again his jumble of |
ollowing pepers. The square of drawing paper
was still there. It had been folded
| and refolded so many times that it
| was
i : . Pencil markings had
smeared and coated it with a rich
SE
the series of facts.
i
4
Cosgrove snatched at the chal-| didn't die on his own fawn. Now, the foot over it
| Lambert house is old fashioned. It's
one of the few left in New York
‘with a side drive and a porte
‘grin was chere. No one was home--éven the
| chauffeur was in Westchester, Lam.
i drove the sar «down and
bert
orced | parked it in the shadow of ths porte
| cochere. It was Kk and
it was there at
re at
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“Tt was Joeiral to fienure that Hone
had come in inst nfter the killer
swine st Tamhart, Hane milled his
om. The Tiller prabhhed the wrist
and there was a battle. He bent
‘wong discance,” he said into the | Hope's
A
platoons of desks. In its wake moved!
“Well, Mr. Cosgrove,” he said, and |
“Listen, I've got the confession,
carbon r “books” and he spun’
Pa > |the breaks. He had to get back ed deeply eac
His |
in segments of stained and |
arm
the throal
| “its dark
| It would have
‘him to have wrapped Hope’
”~
at
slowly.
Phelps nodded. “Two down and one |
i to go.”
“Yes,” Cosgrove said shortly, “the
| tough one.” He smiled. “Applied
| logic worked like a charm on the
| first two. I couldn't get to first base
tae corridor and | With it on Maitland. But I had an in a warm
!ace in the hole—human nature.”
Phelps looked his surprise.
The guilty guy had it all doped
‘out—he framed a perfect alibi. But
| it turned around and bit him.”
Phelps looked quizzical.
‘Bit him?”
“Bit him,” Cosgrove assured him,
“And when it flopped it broke his
nerve and he confessed.”
Phelps picked up the original copy
of the confession and read it through:
“Knowing that I am facing death
and wishing above all to see justice!
done three innocent persons, I wish
to confess of my own free will that
I killed Eric Lambert and Jobkn
Hope to save myself from imorison-
ment for theft of money belonging
to clients of the firm.”
It was signed
scrawl:
“Malcolm Maitland.”
The city editor scowled. “I don't
get it yet. The stabbing—you said
it was fate in your story. That's all
I saw.”
“I can tell you in two minutes.
The morning of the killings Mait-
land accused his man of stealing his
' studs. He did it where the maid could
overhear. He'd planned to call the
cops about 7 o'clock and have Wil-
ton pinched. While the cops were
there he was going to have his’
| ‘heart attack’ and let them put him |
to bed. That set up with the law if
they suspected him afterward.
“But he muffed it. He scared Wil-
ton so much the guy didn't come
back. That put him on a limb and he
had to throw the fit alone and then
| call the hallboy.
| “You know what happened then.
| At 8:30 he dressed, sneaked out
while the boy was upstairs in the
‘elevator and headed for Lambert's.
| He knew he was up against it. He
| didn't want to kill them, but he was
afraid he'd have to. Before he left he
took along that knife. It's a curio
land he kept it on & wall bracket
| above his bed.
{ “What happened at Lambert's you
‘know. He killed them both, dumped
“1 | Hope's body on the lawn at Beach fertile,
Point and dropped the gun near it.
He got the car back in the 69th
| street drive. The tarpaulin went in-
to East River.
“So far he was O. K. and had all
| home. He made that, too, by stalling
until the night boy answered an ele-
+ vator call,
“First he changed clothes and
{ washed his shoes. He put on paja-
| mas, dressing slipper. All
| Copywrite 1932, by the New York Morn- . i
Inside the box, nested on a pad of | ‘he had to do to finish the job was the spring and again at
to put back the knife. To do that
| he had to stand on the radiator and
reach up.”
Cosgrove laughed. “Did I say it
Fate that got him? Listen to
Just as he reached Wilton rang
the buzzer. Mai jumped. His
foot slipped and fe half turning.
He had the knife in his right fist
and he feil with that under him. The
blade went between his ribs and he
, rolled just once.”
“How did you get all that?"
“He told us tonight. He spilled
everything when we sprang the alibi
on him.”
Phelps was rela R “ And who
rove 7"
solved that mystery, Mr. Cc
i "Hn" ROT smile
aphic.
‘ ‘Do yo
was
| this.
|
i
the hospital
night this’ all
-
happened? Well, that
t'n | dumb kluck got there just as they
were checking over the junk in the
i
‘pockets of Maitland's dressing gown.
pocket instead
i
pa
‘dumb Mr. Cosgrove's foot
‘have covered it. It was
)stal insurance
s desk.
our foot on that,” he said,
a paper. It
‘an on the cashier for $100
the space - - “charged to-—
was ins
e 4, deeply and propped his
FT Ee
Cosgrove looked up. “Where's the
Kenneth L. Brungart, of Smuliton,
and Irene H. Stover, of Aaronsburg.
Harvey H. Brown and Irene C.
Peters, both of Lock Haven.
Clair S. Keefer, of Altoona, and
Pauline Mildred Eves, of Warriors-
mark.
George Russell Gibboney, of Belle-
fonte, and Vertie Burwis Crawford,
of Millheim.
in a wavering
| applied in
asparagus
| Find out
| Eke costomers
—Vegetable
temperature
Fahrenheit in
‘or darkness.
| tion begins full
the temperature should
{to keep the young seedlings short
(and stocky. Cabbage, cauliflower,
| lettuce, and onion are sat-
|isfied with 60 to 70 degrees day
(and 45 to 55 at night. For toma-
| toes, peppers, and eggplants add 10
| Stgrens to day and night tempera-
| tures.
| —
—To develop a high producing
| pullet flock select good strong chicks
from birds known to lay a large
| number of eggs, large in size and
{of good quality. Such birds should
| be true to type and free from dis-
| ease.
~ —Early seeding of orchard cover
crops results in larger growth and
lower costs, a State College experi-
ment has shown.
-—Where the alfalfa field is to be
| left for a long time, it is recommend-
ed by State College agronomists
| that one-third to one-half of the
seed sown be of hardy strains and
the rest be common seed from Kan-
sas or farther north.
, —Now is the time to order aspar-
agus roots for early spring planting.
Asparagus is a perennial, good
for 10 or more years under proper
,care and management. While it
‘is not found in many home gardens
its popularity is increasing rapidly.
It is one of the first green crops
available in the spring and it can
be cut day after day until July 1.
Washington, a comparatively new
rust-resistant variety, is planted uni-
gardeners.
strain is Mary Washington. Where
‘only a small area is to be planted,
| well-grown 1-year old roots should
‘be used. About 75 roots are suffi-
cient for a family of five.
thrives best in a d
ree fro
1
| along side of the garden and
| enough from the fence to make cul-
' tivation easy.
| The as bed should be work-
' with the soil the mulch of manure
the fall. The mature
| apa: us Jed shone be fertilized
| a com-
| plete fertilizer _s emer
the close
lof the cutting season about July 1.
| Frequent cultivation “the
| entire season is , because
| weeds are one of the worst handi-
| caps to a good yield.
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‘hogs now coming to pats
‘pork is not desirable. Scientists
down in Illinois have discovered'the
chief cause of so many
coming to market.
the condition to the feeding of
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—Packers complain of
{ly high percentage of si
can well afford
the ration.—Michigan
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timely repairs thé right Kind of
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horication, and better care while be-
ing used.-—Exchange.
--Get your job work done here.