THE LUMBER ROOM

Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Issue 107, 22 May 1937, Page 4

THE LUMBER ROOM

'PAUL

PRY."

[a]

This Age 0 1 Violence. Whilat Paul Pry ha* no intoatio* of gate-craslxing into the exalted company of Sherlock Holmes, Lord Peter Wimsey, Heroule Pojirot and others, yet he feels that with the longer houre o| darkness now upon us, it is opportune to draw attention to the number of arm-chair murders, forgeriee and so on that are being relished by lovere cf seneational fiction. There i« even the ' ' Crime Club" whose hooded figure on the jacket ie the hall-mark of stark horror. And what is more, the most peaceable and law-abiding citizens find the greatest relief from their anxxebies in losing themselves among the grizzly details - provided by Edgar Wallace or Dorothy Sayers. Hence this symposium in their honour! Murder, "But suddenly Roger caught eight of something that brought him to a standstill in the clutch of an astounding horror. Roger was no coward. He could keep his head in an emergency. But few people are armed at all point's against fear, and Roger had never ,been able to beae unmoved the sudden sight of any dead hody. For what he saw was a pair of rubber-soled shoes and the ends of two trousered legs half protruding from a thicket of brambles. There was som#» thing horribly unnatural about tho way they pointed, and though he could not clearly see the body to which they belouged, a sure instinct told Roger that it was a dead body." — "The Nine Nicks." The Raven, But the Raven still beguiling all mj fancy into sroiling, Straight I wheeled a eushioned seat ia front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy thinlcing what thia ominous bird of yore — What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore. " — Edgar Allan Poe. I'll Try to Give You Justice, My first case in the Magistrate '» Court, I remember, was one m which my client, Mrs. Briget O'Halloran, sued Mr. Timothy Brosahan for "gooda bargained and. sold," to wit, a prime "porker." * Tho defendant's solicitor, who also claimed the shamrock as his national cmblem, reminded me years afterwards of what he thought my unusual and unconventional opening. "If your Worship pleases," said I, "in this case I labour under great aisadvantages. The plaintiff is Irish and the defendant is Irish; ' my leatned friend as a Dublin man; and the matter in litigation is a plg " "Sure, your luek is clean out," said the genial Magistrate, "for my ovm forebears came from 1 Connemara. "But," he reassured me, "I'll try to give you justice for all that." And he did, too : three pound' tcn '# worth, — and costs. — Cheerful Yesterdays, by Hon. O. T. J. Alpers. His Passion. Writing of Sir Landon Ronald, Bev* erley Nichols says that the now famoua * Principal of the Guildhall School of Music has one passion in life — watcliing a great trial. "For nearly seventeen years, the Old Bailey has drawn hom like a magnet. Fortunately his legal friends, chief of whom are the Recorder and Sir Henry Dickens, the Common Sergeant, have been only too glad to assua'ge this passion. I should imagine that they must find the presence of this distinguished musicaan positively exhilarating. - "For, as he himself once told me, electric shocks dart up and down hig ( spine througho.ut the trials. His eyee almost jump out of his head when observing the forgers. His hair stands on end when listening to the details of a murder case. His long lashes are frequently wet with teare. He flushes aud pales, and clenches his fists. And always, as I say, the electric shocks flash along his spine. "I wonder how many people who have admired his interpretation of a Wagner overturo realise how much it owes to the Old Bailey?" ' Sir Arthur Conan Doyie or The Ungrateful Father. "Of course I'm grateful to Holmes," said Sir Arthur, "he's been a good friend to me, in a peeuniary way. But qui.te fraukly, I got very tired of him. 1 fancy it may be that I know him too well. I know exactly how he would behave in any circumstances in any emergency, and that's always a bad thing to know about auy of one's frieuds. I've always felt that he'a hardly human. He's got so few anglel from which one can approach him. At first he used to interest me much more. But I soon realised that he was uothing more than a ealculating machine." — "Are they the same at Home." Said a Policeman to His Son. "My old man was a eop, and I will say he did his darndest to keep me on the level. "Boy," he'd say as he wacked me with his night stick, "1'iu telling you it pays to be honest. There 's more picldngs to be got in one week by an honest cop who knows his raeket than the tough guys eollect in a ybar. "Think of it, boy. There 's not a bold-up nor a bumping-ofl: in this town but I get my l'ako off, and I'm only a plain eop. When they make me a lieutenant, I'll -get double. That '3 pretty good, ain't it? "You take my advice, boy, and stay honest. It pays like hell." — "Tbe Policeman only Taps once," .by Anthony Berkeley. Solve It Yourself. Printed to siniulale a pofJce record of a murder a new type of book called "Crimefile" contains bits of evidence tied together in a eardboard folder. From the assortment of telegranis, note-covered scraps of paper, reports of qnestioning of vvitnesses, human hair, a burned match, and a swath of crimsonstained curtain, the reader as supposed to solve the erime. A sealed solution in the back contains a police analysis of the evideiiee and a signed confession by the murderer. —Tho Literary Dig#it.