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'llie Student Fraternity Murder CHAPTER lll—Continued —5 "Oh, la that why you’ve called on me?” he remarked. “Tea, I was a freshman last year In Hannibal, but decided I would rather go to a larger and better known school in this part of the country. Now It seems I’ll have to quit school, without even finishing the term.” Rankin was properly Interested. “Is that so? Mrs. Blxby said something about you not being in the best of health. I hope it isn’t that.” “That’s just the trouble,” Randall xplained. “A damnable tubercular condition keeps undermining my strength. I wasn’t here in October more than a week and classes had only begun when it got the better of me. My doctor advised me to withdraw for the semester and rest a while at home; and Mr. Warwick granted me a leave of absence on his certificate of illness. That’s why I Just signed up for mili tary training class, instead of gym nasium. But I feel the whole trouble beginning again and I don’t think I’ll be able to see it through.” “I was wondering what your uni form signified," the detective stated. “I didn’t know that the university taught military tactics as a study.” “It is a substitute for gymnasium work. Naturally, in my condition, it was much easier.” Rankin reverted to the object of his visit. “What I wanted to ask you, Mr. Randall, is whether you were acquaint ed with Stuart Jordan at Aberdeen. I am seeking for facts about his past life in hopes of learning something that will help clarify the problem of his death. Anything you know of him might be valuable." “As a matter of fact, I did know him,” the student replied. "Only cas ually, though; he was a sophomore, a class ahead of me. For one term, he happened to serve as proctor of the freshman dormitory in which I lived at Aberdeen. But that was my only contact with him and I don’t suppose there would be anything in that which .you could possibly use.” “Didn’t anything ever occur that might throw some light on the crime?” Though reasonably Rankin could hard ly have expected more, he was disap pointed. “Nothing that I remember.” Ran ■dall spoke slowly. “Jordan had some difficulty with a classmate of his, Ralph Buckley; I heard of that be cause It took place in my dormitory. But that couldn’t have anything to do with. . . The detective’s recognition of the name startled him. “Ralph Buckley, did you say?” Ran kin demanded sharply. “Do you mean that he was also at Aberdeen?” “Certainly—at the same time as Jor dan, during the past two years. As I said, they were both sophomores just when I entered. The trouble between them broke out the middle of last year.” The boy paused. “How is it you were familiar with Buckley’s name when I mentioned it?" he in •quited curiously. “I had heard he came from Jordan's home town, Vandalia, and intended looking him up. Besides that, he is a freshman right here at the university.” It was Walter Randall’s turn to be surprised and he raised his eyebrows expressively. i “Here at Philadelphia? That’s news to me, sir.” “Had you known that Stuart Jordan was here before you got news of his death today?" “Only for the past few weeks,” the student replied. “I caught sight of him one day going into the college bookshop on Woodland avenue. I didn’t speak to him then; I meant to look him up later, but haven’t got around to It.” Rankin shook his head in obvious perplexity. “I don’t see how Buckley could possibly have studied at Aber deen for two years,” he ruminated. “His record from the office of admis sions says nothing about any college •education before he came to Philadel phia. In fact, it distinctly states that since graduating from high school, two years ago, he worked at home.” “I think I can explain that,” Ran dall declared. “He simply gave false Information in the application he filled cut for admission here. You see, be cause of his run-in with Jordan, he was dismissed dishonorably from Aber deen. With such a blot on his record, no other school in the country would accept him. To get in another col lege, he would have to begin all over, ns If he came directly from high school. And then he’d have to lie about how he spent the two intervening years. If the university didn’t suspect any thing, It would believe his story about working.” The scheme Randall outlined prob ably explained the deception correctly, but Rankin made a mental note to in quire of Mr. -Warwick as to its feas ibility. “Now, Mr. Randall,” he asked, “what was the cause of this trouble between him and young Jordan?” “If I tell you that," the boy said Teluctantly, “I don’t want you to use me to prove anything against Buck ley. It can't have any connection with Stuart’s death and I wouldn’t care to get him Into a Jam.” His entire natural attitude moved the detective to set his mind at ease. "You will have no responsibility at all," he promised persuasively, “I can learn the same facts from the Aber deen authorities; and they will have to confirm them, anyhow. So it won’t be necessary for you ever to appear in the case." With this assurance, Randall began an account of the dead boy’s feud with Buckley. Though a small Institution, Aberdeen maintained separate sleeping quarters for its first-year men; and as at other colleges, it was the system there to place upper classmen as mon itors in charge of them. While a first year student, Jordan had served as class secretary; which was probably why he was selected as a monitor dur ing his second term the past year. He had a proctor’s duties —to maintain order among the rooms he controlled, inform the proper medical agency of illness among the boys and advise them when he could. He must also report serious Infractions of school regulations to the official executive committee. In particular, the edict against gam bling in the dormitories was very strict. The first discord was caused by Jordan's discovery of Buckley and two of his charges engaged in a crap game for large stakes. Both the stu dents were young men and inexperi enced, with more money and less bal ance than was good for them; some how, Buckley had become acquainted with them. At that first encounter, there was no actual quarrel nor any suggestion that Buckley did not play an honest game. When Jordan ar rived, the youngsters had already lost two hundred dollars; but he merely requested them to quit the game and not repeat the offense. His classmate had protested so angrily that Randall, on the floor below, heard the commo tion ; in the end, however, Buckley submitted with bad grace. It was Jordan’s second encounter' with Buckley that precipitated the fight. Toward the first of April, he learned in some manner that a similar game was in progress; and interrupt ing it, he found the two freshmen again heavy losers. This time less lenient, most of his indignation was directed against Buckley. He ordered him to stay away from the students in his dormitory and threatened to compel him to do so. And then, be cause he already knew of something disreputable in his past life in Van dalia —he accused him of cheating with loaded dice. Before he could be stopped, Jordan seized them and proved his claim that they were weighted insida Buckley then at tacked him, partly in hatred and part ly in dismay at being caught; violent blows were exchanged and a battle royal might have ensued had not other occupants on the same floor been at tracted by the uproar and separated the antagonists. Randall had no idea how informa tion of the altercation and its causes reached the college authorities. In all probability, one of the disgruntled vic tims of Buckley’s fraud carried the tale to the executive committee. At any rate, Randall knew definitely that several days later that body began an Investigation. Jordan, the two fresh- I t y “You Will Have No Responsibility at All," He Promised Persuasively. men and others were summoned before it and perforce testified against Buck ley; as a result, he was expelled from Aberdeen. “Did it ever come to your ears,” Rankin asked when the student con cluded his recital, “that Buckley threatened Jordan? He must have considered him to blame for his dis grace.” Randall shook his head. “I suppose he did, but I couldn’t say about that,” he answered. “You see, as far as I’m concerned, the whole affair is hearsay; I wasn’t in the dorm at the time of the argument. I got it all from other fellows afterward and can only tell you what they told me." “Do you know what became of Buckley between the time he left Aber deen and turned up here?” MIDLAND JOURNAL, RISING SUN, MD. SYNOPSIS Stricken during initiation into the Mu Beta Sigma fraternity, Stuart Jordan, university student, dies almost instantly. Tommy Rankin, Philadelphia detective, takes charge of the in vestigation. An injection of poison is shown to have been the cause of Jordan's death. Rankin finds all the dead student’s shoes are marked with thumbtacks. His only known relative is his uncle, Howard Merrick, St. Louis banker, also his guardian. It seems possible that some person, not a member of the fraternity, was present at the initiation. Two students from the vicinity of Vandalia, 111., Jordan’s home town, Ralph Buckley and Walter Randall, fig ure in the investigation. A prominent lawyer, Edward Fletcher, present at the inltation, en gages Rankin’s attention. Check stubs show that Jordan had been paying S4OO a month to some unknown person. At the negative reply, Rankin rose and thanked the boy for his assist ance; it was evident that he could give him no further information at the moment. The detective did not mahe the mis take of placing too great a value as yet upon his account. True, It repre sented his first progress in the case and revealed a motive for Jordan’s death. While it might seem rather weak to the adult point of view, a col lege man would be apt to consider it serious and exaggerate its gravity. And in Buckley, who was evidently something of a rogue, it would rankle and excite a bitterness more malignant than a worse injury. Particularly If, since coming to the university, the murdered boy should have again clashed with him or interfered with his pursuits. But to prove that Buck ley had reason to commit the crime was not enough, if he lacked the op portunity. That problem Rankin could not deal with until he learned where the two missing brothers had been dur ing the Initiation. It seemed impos sible that Buckley, presumably a stranger to the ritual, was neverthe less present at the ceremony. Rankin went to the dormitory post office; and introducing himself to Mr. Thorne, in charge of sorting and dis tributing incoming mails, questioned him as to letters Jordan might have got. But the postmaster never had occasion to notice his particular mail. Still, he said, as the boy owned a let ter box, number 397, and a correspond ing key, he probably received a great deal of it. He promised faithfully to watch for further communications and apprise Rankin of them. It was three-fifteen when the detec tive reached the Mu Beta Sigma house. Anthony Graham opened the door for him, and Stanton, looking more harassed than ever, joined them in the hall. Before leaving headquarters, Rankin had phoned the fraternity, re questing that Larry Palmer and Ben Crawford await his arrival; the presi dent said that they had been there since two o’clock. Rankin apologized for his tardiness. “It took me longer than I expected to settle other details of the case. . . . Now, Mr. Stanton, If you will allow me to have the living room alone for a short while, I’ll speak to them in there. Separately, of course; it is im material which you send in first." Benjamin Crawford presented him self first —the only member of the chapter he had not yet met. A dapper youth, with well-rounded features, art less eyes and blond hair, his efforts to look more mature were amusing. He seated himself nonchalantly on the sofa, adopting a psuedo-sophisticated attitude to foster that impression. But neither poise nor the fine mustache he sported could conceal the fact that he was only nineteen. “You know what I want from you, Mr. Crawford,” Rankin said. “I don’t have to explain, after last night, the Importance of checking the movements of every one In the house. You were absent and I couldn't do it in your case. The question is, where did you spend your time yesterday evening?” “It’s an awful business, isn’t It, sir?" Crawford replied without hesitation. “Poor Stuart. ... I had a date with a girl and missed the whole thing.” “Weren’t you at the initiation at all? You didn’t stay a while and leave before the ceremony was over?" The boy shook his head. “No, I went out at least fifteen minutes be fore the meeting started. My date was for nine o’clock, way up in Oak lane; as it takes almost an hour to get there, I left the house at eight.” “That’s all that really matters,” Rankin said. “Let me have your friend’s name and address; as a mat ter of form, she will have to confirm your statement.” “But I can’t," Ben Crawford re turned. “That's Just the trouble. I don’t know where to find her or what her name is. You see, it was a blind date in the first place ... a pick-up, in fact. I was never Introduced to the girl. And then, when I reached the place I was to meet her, she wasn’t there.” His injured tone showed he considered himself illy used. “She stood me up." Rankin's voice was suddenly sharp. “But although she failed to keep her appointment at only nine o’clock, you had not returned to the house here by three-thirty this morning. How do you explain the delay, Mr. Crawford?” The student's blase poise remained bf Milton Propper Copyright, 1932, by Milton Propper WNU Service unruffled. “It’s a rather long story, sir. I met her first, last Thursday night, out in Oak lane. I was waiting for a street car to take me to the sub way line back into town; I had been calling on another girl, who lives at 6100, north of the first station. I left her at twelve-thirty and went to the corner of Godfrey and York roads for my car. And there was this girl by herself. I don't suppose we would have got acquainted, much as I wanted to, if I hadn’t caught her looking di rectly at me. Then, when our eyes, met, she smiled as If she wouldn’t mind speaking to me, either.” Conceit edly, he fingered his mustache tips. “So I opened up a conversation with her.” “You just couldn’t help speaking to her,” Rankin’s lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “And what hap pened then?” “Well, I couldn’t pass up anything that promising, could I? . . . Anyhow, she wasn’t offended and after a while, I suggested that I might see her home. She said It was Impossible that night, but If I cared to, we could fix up a date together for early this week. So we arranged to meet at nine o’clock last night at the same spot; 1 didn’t care If I missed the initiation. But she wouldn’t tell me who she was or where she lived. I asked If I could phone her in the meantime, but she promised to ring me instead, on Sun day. She said that would prove she intended to show up. I gave her the frat. phone number and my name . . . not my right name, of course." The boy smiled. “Not yet; just the one I always use until I’m better acquainted with the date.” “And did she actually call up on Sunday?” “Yes, and that’s why it is so pecu liar,” Crawford .answered. “While she didn’t tell me about herself, she prom ised faithfully to see me last night. Yet she never turned up; I waited at the corner a half-hour, but there wasn’t a sign of her anywhere.” “She was probably indulging in some fun at your expense,” Rankin commented. “Even so, that accounts for where you were only until nine thirty last night.” For the first time, the boy’s aplomb was shaken and he weighed his reply. “After that I . . .” he began, "well, I suppose I may as well admit I visited another girl friend of mine.” He ex plained apologetically; “To tell the truth, 1 had been counting heavily on the Cite and when It fell through, I was depressed; I wanted some com pany to cheer me. Then I phoned this girl for permission to drop in, and she agreed to my visiting her.” “When was this?” the detective asked. “What time was it, Mr. Craw ford?” “I called her as soon as I got back to town again; that was ten-ten. This girl lived in the opposite direction, in South Philly, and I had to return to town anyway to go to her apartment. That took three-quarters of an hour and I arrived at half past ten.” The young man plucked nervously at his mustache. “But . . . but I can’t give you any more information about her,” he declared. “You can’t?” Rankin demanded bluntly. “Why not? You mean you won’t?” ✓ “Well ... I . . .” Crawford floundered. “I don’t want to get her into trouble. You see, I . . . was with her till morning; I spent the night there.” A flush of embarrassment suf fused his face. “If that should come out, it would be awkward; she’d prob ably lose her job and it wouldn’t look any too nice for me, either.” “There isn’t the slightest danger her name will figure in this affair,” Ran kin stated emphatically. “My only in terest in you, Mr. Crawford, is in trac ing your movements last night. As long as this girl can prove you were in her company, I am not a bit con cerned with your conduct, otherwise. Anyhow, if necessary, I could learn her identity through your fraternity brothers. They could list your friends and then it would only be a matter of elimination.” “No, I’d rather tell you myself. Her name is Florence Dalton and she is a graduate at the university hospital, here. Her place in South Philadelphia is a two-room apartment at 4020 Har mon street; she occupies it alone.” “Thank you, Mr. Crawford.” The detective rose. “I think that is all I want to ask at the present. Will you please have Mr. Palmer come in next?” After Ben Crawford left the room, his features were a deep study and his eyes held a questioning, dissatisfied look. For, despite the tale he had just heard, he still remained uncertain whether the thirty-second person at the initiation was a fraternity member or an intruder. He had no reason to doubt the boy or suspect him of lying; nor grounds for connecting him with the crime. Nevertheless, he could still have attended the ceremony the night before, provided that he managed to escape unnoticed right after Jordan collapsed. That occurred at nine-twenty-five, fully three-fourths of an hour before Crawford’s phone call to Miss Dalton at ten-ten con firmed any part of his account. Be fore that, lacking witnesses, there was only his own word upon which to rely as to his movements. The apparently irrelevant details about his date, Ran kin realized, failed to settle his where abouts decisively. CHAPTER IV The Case Against Buckley When Lawrence Palmer entered the living room, the fraternity president joined him, taking his stand by the fireplace. Palmer seated himself on the sofa. Though still unruly, his red hair was no longer unkempt; sober and alert, an intelligent smile on his pleasant face made him a different lad from the wreck of the previous night. "I’m afraid I don’t remember meet ing you last night, Mr. Rankin,” Pal mer said frankly, “or talking to Mr. “What Gets Me Is That Everybody Tells Me I Was Drugged.” Warwick, either. Gosh, I must have been pretty bad!” He paused and his smile faded. “What gets me is that everybody tells me I was drugged— and with knockout drops,” he added wonderingly. “I can’t see how that’s possible. The only fellow with me or anywhere near me last night Is a friend of mine; it’s ridiculous to think he’d do something like that.” He turned to the president for support. “Ted knows him too—lt was Ralph Buckley. He attended our first smok er and has visited me since several times in m,v room.” “Ralph Buckley?” The dptective’s even unemotional question did not in dicate his thrill on hearing the name, or that he recognized It at all. "Yes,” Palmer answered, "he’s a freshman In the college department with whom I’m rather chummy. He lives in the Harrowgate apartments at 289 Fortieth street. He comes from Illinois ... let me see, he men tioned the place once”—he wrinkled his brow in deep thought—“oh, yes, Vandalia, 111.” Stanton opened his eyes widely in surprise. “Why, that’s Stuart’s home, too, Mr. Rankin!” he exclaimed ex citedly. “I told you that last night, sir.” “Yes, so you did.” Rankin’s tone was still calm. “And that is why I'd like to learn something about Buck ley." He addressed Palmer again. “What do you know of him? How did you two happen to become friends?” he asked. By a few questions, he discovered the extent and duration of the boy’s association with Buckley. He had met Palmer 'at the social club directed by the university for its students, and en gaged him In a few billiard games. And In February, when the fraternity rushing season began, Palmer pro posed him as a candidate—though un successfully. Somewhat sportlly in clined himself, he admired Buckley’s example in sophistication and fast liv ing. Otherwise, he knew nothing about him except that he spent a great deal and appeared to have funds. “No doubt you supplied him with a large part of them, Mr. Palmer?” Ran kin observed shrewdly. “You lost quite an amount, didn’t you, in these card sessions?” The youth looked uncomfortable at the question. “Well, yes, I did,” he acknowledged with obvious reluctance. “How could you guess that? But it was just that Ralph had phenomenal luck at cards; I never managed to hold them. Anyhow," he added almost defiantly, “someone has to come out on the short end. And I’m as willing to take a chance as the next one.” "Of course.” Tactfully, the detec tive shifted the subject. “You say that Buckley came to a smoker at the opening of your rushing season, this winter?” “Yes, but that was as far it went. I acted as his sponsor and wanted him pledged and eventually initiated. But one of the other brothers didn't care for him and so he was dropped before the final selection was made. I don't know why; he's a d —d decent fel low." The point was evidently a sore one with the boy. “I still can't seo what Ned Patterson had against him.” (TO BB CONTINUED.) How I Broke Into | The Movies) 1 Copyright by Hal C Herman j By WILLIAM HAINES Truthfully, i broke into the movies with a boil on my nose — but more of that later. Let’s start at the beginning. If you ever hope to stay out of pic tures never have your photograph taken. It gets to be a habit, like dope, and once you’ve started it you can’t atop. I was In New York, “just a young man trying to get along” by selling bonds. I read all the books on sales manship and attended all the meetings and hoped some day to be president of the firm. Then, I had my photo graph taken. The trouble with that is you don’t have just one picture, you have an other and another. I had so many that I decided that I should, to save my conscience, make this terrible habit pay, so I began posing for what the well-dressed man will wear. I posed in suits and hats and over coats, when I wasn’t selling bonds— and that was most of the time, be cause I was a rotten salesman. It was during the time when Gold wyn Picture corporation was scouting the country for new faces. I heard about this search and as I had all the photographs taken that could possibly be taken, I felt that the moving picture field was the place to unload them. I called at the office and as my face despite my years, still seemed very new, I was given a test the next day. I gave up the bond business at once and waited to hear the outcome of the test. I waited three and a half weeks Svfir g; JHra ■■■ f j SS®* 'iffiwF 1 -■ - iflutfl*-'- - flag v % WBBttk y William Haines. and was, at the end of that time, seri ously contemplating going back into the bond business, when I had a call to come to the office at once. Shall I ever forget going into that office and being told that I was to start for California at once to make pictures! A girl had been chosen to be given a contract, too. She was in the office signing up and getting her instructions. I remember that she wore a fur coat and a little fur hat and pretty flat heeled slippers. Her hair was light— what I could see of it under her hat— and her eyes were a blue-gray. This other new discovery was Eleanor Boardman. I arrived at the studio in a big way, with the boil on my nose. But it passed away with time and I began getting the habit of motion pictures. "That’s bow I broke into the movies." Perhaps those who rejoiced most at my entrance into the cinema world were my former employers in the bond house and those New York photog raphers, who really started me on my downward path. WNU Service Hollywood Makeup Artists Supply New Faces for Old The makeup men of Hollywood, who have done wonders for both male and female players from time to time, making beauties occasionally out of rather plain-faced folk, seem to be headed for fresh triumphs. At any rate, they have now solved the problem of furnishing completely new faces for old. to be worn temporarily. “The beauty of It," says Percy West more, who is chief of the makeup de partment of the Warner studios, “is the absolute plasticity of the whole thing. We are now able to create a completely new face, using the actor’s own features as a foundation, which Is completely In contact with his own facial muscles at every point and which he can vivify at will, more easi ly than the fingers of your hand can move Inside a silk glove.” Jack Holt Launched His Screen Career “Stunting” Jack Holt launched his screen ca reer several years ago as a “stunt" man and shortly became a western star. As such he rose to unprecedent ed heights. W’hen the popularity of “cowboy" films began to wane. Holt on the verge of retirement was signed by Columbia for a series of pictures. Since then he has appeared in such outstanding productions as: “Flight,” "Submarine,” “Father and Son,” “Hell's Island,” “The Last Parade.” “Dirigible," “Subway Express," “Fifty Fathoms Deep,’’ “A Dangerous Af fair,” “War Correspondent," “This Sporting Age" and “Man Against Woman."