The Waterbury Democrat., 1938-11-05

And then he played-played that wild incantation which the world had come to know as '"The Cats Meow" Played Beethoven and Liszt, played Berlin and Whiteman, lost in the deep cellars of Harlem, lost and groping. :.
 Suddenly '"Torchy" Stephens ba- ton fell like a guillotine. The band galvanized into action, swinging tide of sound against the gaunt pianist there in the golden glow. "Torchy" set down his stick, picked up a clarinet. He sent that song. He was better in that moment than Ludden Dombey had ever been. He was taking on the crown of the king of swing-the crown that had had no wearer since that fateful night in the Golden Bowl when Dombey had crashed to the floor with his jeweled baton in his hand.
 When the last strains of the song had died away, there was no applause. There was only 8 silence that was more compliment tary than applause. Quickly Bob Tait walked across the crowded room, stepped up beside "Torchy"' Stephens. His voice rang out clearly: "That song was for 8 man you all respected = man you loved because he brought you happy times. You've heard many stories about who killed him here, and many stories why. To night I am going to point out the killer to you. I have officers here to take that killer. There is no"
 Suddenly the lights flashed out. The great Golden Bowl became, in an instant, a black abyss. Tait's voice died with the light. And then, seemingly almost as the lights went out, there was a shot. a shot followed by the scream of women, the startled exclamations of men.
 The lights flashed on. Everyone in the Golden Bowl was transfixed. Everyone except Bob Tait who was hurrying toward the table he had reserved for his guests. Anne Lester was pale, one trembling hand out stretched. Bob = Bob, that shot was from this tablet" Her hand dropped down, brushed a napkin at Myrna's feet, and there lay re- volveri
 Feeley snatched both napkin and gun, stuffed them into his pocket. Everybody at this table into the lounge" he roared. As though out of the air, Mike Dun- phy and two deputies appeared.
 And upon the platform 'Torchy" Stephens and his band, all little pale, launched into swing tune.
 Huddled in the lounge were Rogers, Macy, Nelda Starr, Anne, and Myrna = and a grim Dannie Feeley. Look here" Rogers said, you can't hold us here like this. And where is Tait?"
 Hell be here any minute,"" Feeley said. He's developing a picture"
 Developing a. Rogers starr tied exclamation was cut short by the opening of the door. It was Tait. Without a word he handed 8 square of paper to Feeley who took only one glance, then stepped toward Harris Rogers.
 You're coming along with me-" he said, flor the murder of hud- den Dombey."
 It was a happy trio which the speeding taxi was bearing from the Pacific-Plaza to the Claremont Bob Tait, and Myrna and Anne.
 What, I want to know" said Anne, what was that thing you handed to MT. Feeley?"
 Tait grinned. Tt was a print of a photograph taken by miniature camera mounted directly over the table. It was rigged so that the shut ter opened the moment the lights went out = and of course the lights were supposed to go out. As I've told you, had plenty of reason to sus- pect Rogers when found he'd worn Nelda Starr's perfume and that he'd ordered one of those cat-calls. I fig ured that if he saw the wire from the novelty company. and heard me make the announcement up there that knew who killed Dombey, he'd naturally try to bump me off-espe- cially since he tried it opce."
 But why didn't he do it when you were in Nelda Stars apart ment?" Myrna wanted to know.
 Because Nelda didn't know him as A murderer. They were friendly but not that friendly. No, Nelda was by way of being a stooge for Rogers on occasion. But he never let her know he was a killer. And that was un- doubtedly Rogers who followed you to the shack. that night. I'm convinced he would have killed you then, Myrna, believing that he could then get control of the band"
 But why wouldn't he have killed