The times-news., 1938-11-05
CHAPTER XGA

Feclev was stSHGlHZ anG%
.he table a. Tai: seated Media
Wien Tai. stepped back. the de-
.ee,fve said. What's this all
about. Bob"
keep your dress shirt on. Dan
ME I tnirk xe'Ee getting soT'e-
where. By the way. you told me
no nave nv fun and ~Ire tnat
roveI,Y company in MINNEAPOLIS
Tai, reached INTO MS pocket
"Hsre', a copy o. their wired re-
Peelcv looked a: the :yVewrIctsu
sheet read the words: REGARD
nc YOUR INQUIRY LAST so
nays HAVE SHIPPED Cal g.
CALL NOVELTIES YOUR CIII
TO OSCAR MOORE, GEORGE
MARSHALL, GAIL u: II
IIAMS. KENPER FREEMAN.
EDWARD TRENPER. HARR!S
POGERS. Caleb DAVIS,
FRANK ROTCH. ElNAR tkt. l.
HEINZ. MODERN NOVELTY. IN
CORPORATED.
Freelev's mouth was q gg!Ei lIre-
'sYou're hot. TAFT. But that won
hang Iud DomOey's murderer.
And Why = that a copy! "nere
the original wire
"I dropped il o. Harris Rogers
cham-sDd | notice /; rsnt there
now" -
Nervous!y Fee'ey Ii: cigar. He
said nothing, bu, his whole man
ner Indicated 70 Boo Tai: that ne
was with him, and that ne was
grateful.
The crowd in .he Golden Bow.
had become hushed as Weeks sat
at the piano in golden spotlight
No one there attempted 20 dance
10 the tune of The Cats Meow
To the ickies, the whackies. and
the jitterbugs, TO the devotees OF
Ludden Dombey, late tom Of the
swing cats, that would have been
sacrilege. Everywhere in the big,
glittering room couples slid into
their seats az the IaDleS.
The Swingateers sat immobile.
.Torchy" Stephens stood facing
them, his baton poised The gaunt
Weeks fingers trembled over the
keys. then dropped down. He look
ed eerie, death-ike, in the amber
glow from the ceiling Of the Col
den Bowl. And then he played
played that wild incarnation which
The world had come 70 know as
aThe Cats Meow" Played Beet
hoyen and LiSzt, played Berlin
and. Whiteman, lost in the deep
cellars Of Harlem, lost and CROP
ing.
baton fell like a guillOtine. The
band galvanized into action,
swinging a 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 Dom
bey had ever been. He was talk
ing 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 10 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 a sil-
ence that was more compliment
tary than applause. Quickly Bob
TAFT walked across the crowded
room. stepped up beside "Torchy"
Stephens. His voice rang out
clearly: That song was for a man
you all respected "a man you
loved because he brought you
happy times. You've heard many
stories about who killed him here
and many stories why. Tonight
am going to point out the killer t
you. have officers here to take
that killer. There is no"
Suddenly the lights flashed out
The great Golden Bowl became, il
an instant. black abyss. TAFT,
voice died with the lights. AnC
then, seemingly almost as the
lights went out, there was a shot.
A shot followed by the scream of
women, the startled ordinations
of men.
The lights flashed on. Everyone
in the Golden Bowl was trans