The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1942-01-29

haps less noble, Macbeth, and I
have been Hamlet. And, like a
child viewing a simple wonder for
the first time, I have realized the
world is full of Macbeths and
Hamlets. T'rite, but true. I now
have the impulse to greater au-
thorship than created drama. Ev-
erything fits so nicely; even my
/ unfortunate affliction" = a lean
finger touched his ear" has con-
trived to sharpen my powers of
concentration. have only to close
my eyes and I am in a world
without sound and therefore with
out physical disturbance :"
Inspector Thumm looked Devil
dered. Bruno coughed. 81 am
afraid, MIR. Lane, that our little
problem is quite beneath the
well, the dignity of your detective
! ambitions. It's really just plain
case of murder"
"Please," said Lane, give me a
scrupulously detailed account, In
spector."
On the previous Friday after
noon Gran the story related by
Inspector Thumm and with occa-
sional interpretations by the Dis
trict Attorney, two people sat
closely embraced in the sitting
room of a suite at the Hotel
Grant, Forty-second Street and
Eighth Avenue.
They were Harley Longstreet,
middle-aged Wall Street broker,
of powerful body ravaged by
years of dissipation, dressed in
rough tweeds; Cherry Browne,
musical comedy star, a brunette
with bold Latin features, black
flashing eyes, passionate arched
lips.
Longstreet kissed her and she
cuddled in his arms. II hope they
never come"
The man disengaged himself.
They'll be here. When I tell
Johnny Dewitt to Jump, he
jumps!"
'tBut why drag him here with
that frosty bunch of his if they
don't want to Gomez"
because I like to see the old
buzzard squirm. He hates my
CUTS, and love it." He crossed
the room and poured himself a
drink.
sometimes" the woman said,
81 can't figure you out. What you
get out of tormenting him is be-
yond me-" She shrugged. "1s Mrs.
Dewitt coming, too?"
"Why not? Now don't go harp
ing on her again, Cherry. I've
told you a hundred times there's
nothing between us"
'Not that I care" She laughed.
"But it would be just like you to
steal his wife, too" She jumped
up at the sound of a buzzer and
hurried to the door. "Pollux, old
timer! Come I'M"
A flashily dressed, oldish man
with a dark face and carefully
pomaded thinning hair put his
arms around the woman.
Remember my old pal, Pol
lux?" Her voice was gay. 'Mas-
ter Mind-Reader of the Age on
the two-a-day. Shake hands, you
two"
The buzzer sounded again and
Cherry opened the door to adj
nit a small party of people.
A little slender middle-aged man
with gray hair and a brush-gray
mustache came in first. Long
street strobe forward, exuding
cordially. John o. Dewitt shrank
as the big man brushed by him
to receive the other member of
the party.
"Fern! This is a nice surprise"
This to a faded stoutish woman
of Spanish type, with the barest
traces of a vanished beauty on
her lacquered face; DeWitt's wife.
Jeanne Dewitt, a petite brownish
girl, nodded coldly; she pressed
closer to her escort, Christopher
Lord, a tall blond young man.
Longstreet ignored him and
pumped the hands of Franklin
Ahearn, DeWitt's closest friend,
and Louise Imperiale, another
friend-a middle-aged Swiss me-
ticulously dressed.
'Mike!" Longstreet clapped the
back of a broad man who had
just slouched through the door.
Michael Collins was a brawny
Irishman with porcine eyes and
an apparently fixed expression of
hostility. Longstreet grasped his
arm. snow don't crab this party,
Mike" he whispered. II told you
I'd get Dewitt to fix things up.
Go over there and take a bracer."
Walters appeared. Ice chimed
in glasses. The Dewitt party were
| for the most part silent. strained.