Golden Glow

By Harry Irving Shumway

When you’re rolling along through the country at forty miles an hour, and have been so doing for several hours, any excuse to stop and stretch is a welcome excuse. It gives you an opportunity to light a longed-for pipe and takes the kinks out of your back. I lighted mine.

My friend, Doctor Wilbur Hunneker, whom I have never called anything but Hunky, vaulted from the driver’s seat without the formality of opening the door.

“Judas Iscariot!” he grunted, slapping the dust from his shoulders and digging at his eyes. “Some dust and some breeze!”

“What you stop here for?” I asked him, propping my feet up on the windshield. “Not that I don’t welcome any hesitation in the fierce procedure which you call touring. But why here?”

He grinned and pointed toward a tumbled-down, decrepit-looking cottage, almost entirely covered with woodbine. In front of it grew the most magnificent clusters of Golden Glow I have ever seen. There were hundreds of these beautiful yellow heads swaying in the sunlight, and they were in strange contrast to the drab and weather-beaten background of the house.

“Going to pick you a nosegay,” he said. “You haven’t energy enough to gather wild flowers for yourself, so I’ll do it for you.”

“Go to it,” I said, relieved, and sank back on the deep cushions in a cloud of my own smoke. “But look out for the pooch. Also day-time ghosts. That old shack may have both.”

“I’m not afraid of either,” he replied, and moved through the high grass toward the house.

Lazily, I watched him selecting the choicest blooms. Then my gaze wandered over the old squatty-looking house.

It was indeed a derelict, a perfect example of the abandoned home. I couldn’t imagine anyone having been near it or in it for a score of years. The small window-panes were covered with cobwebs and the marks of falling leaves and pelting rains of many years. The door in the center was innocent of paint, and great seams ran down and across its sections, witnesses of the battles it had put up against the roaring storms.

The stone slabs, slanted and sunken, which served as steps to the door were moss-covered and almost hidden from sight by the luxuriantly growing grass. Not a sound came from the place, or indeed from anywhere else.

Hunky returned to the car, grinning at me with a huge bunch of the golden flowers. He presented them with a sweeping gesture. Not to be outdone in courtesy, I rose and made him a mocking bow.

“Accept these tokens of my esteem, I prithee.”

“I do, Sir Knight, and go to hell,” I replied. “If you’re through with this horticultural business what d’you say we get to the fishing? That’s what we started out for—trout, not yellow bellies.”

He held up his hand in protest.

“There is no element of romance in your sordid make-up. You’re as flat in the head as the fish you catch. Take a look at that old house. What stories it might tell! What ghosts may have prowled about in its sombre interior! I see a broken pane in the quaint side window of the door. Adventure calls. Watch me.”

The nut! He noiselessly moved toward the door. Then he gingerly thrust his hand through the jagged opening in the side window and felt for the key. I saw by the smile on his face that he had found it. He removed his hand, turned the outside knob—and the door opened. He peered around, and then went inside.

It wasn’t premonition or an unknown feeling of anything that prompted me to leap over the side of that car and beat it for the inside of that house. It was a glimpse of one corking fine mantle that I caught through the open door. Old mantles, newel-posts and corner china-closets exert an influence over my artistic soul that brooks no laziness. I’ll walk ten miles through a bog any day to get a peep at something rare and fine in old woodwork. This one called to me, and I went.

I had on rubber-soled shoes, as did my companion, and hence made little noise. Hunky was nowhere in sight, but there was a side door beyond the fire-place and I knew he must be prowling about on the other side of it.

“Say, Hunky, did you see this old mantle?” I called, moving toward the door.

I went through it—and found myself looking at two most unexpected things—Hunky, with his hands raised above his head, and a nice, blue-black automatic held in the unwavering hand of an old woman who was sitting in a chair.

“You, too!” she snapped at me, “Up with ’em! Now what the hell are you two crooks breaking into an old woman’s home for?”

“Good heavens, ma’am,” stammered Hunky. “We—that is—I thought it was a deserted farm house. No intention of annoying anybody. We are simply touring—just a lark to break in here.”

“‘Lark’, hey?” said the old woman, a most unpleasant glare in her eyes. “D’you call it a lark to bust into my home and maybe rob me? How do I know you mightn’t have murdered me?”

“I assure you, madame,” I interrupted, “my friend here had no intention of doing the slightest harm. It was, as he says, a lark—just to show off to me. I followed him because I was interested in the old woodwork—and not your modern hardware,” I added.

She lowered the gun slowly.

“Hum. Well, you don’t look like desperate characters now I take a good look at you. I was frightened, I guess.”

“Sorry,” said Hunky. “No intention of frightening anybody, and it was silly of me to break in. I apologize.”

“Well, I guess that’s all right. I’ll let you go. But don’t come around here scarin’ me again,” replied the evil-looking old woman. “Now you get!”

We got. Hunky stepped on the gas and we traveled. I hope I am not a saffron member of the coward league, but just the same I own there are many views I prefer infinitely more than the muzzle of a dog that both barks and bites. Hunky was not much upset. He’s familiar with guns. I prefer fishing rods.

“A quaint old party,” he mused, as we got under way. “Old house, everything all dust-covered, old woman—and an up-to-date automatic in her fist. How many old farm ladies pack new guns?”

Now I was awake. “Yes, and how many old ladies up in this section of the hinterland speak with an unbucolic accent. I know the local dialect, and she doesn’t belong.”

“We’ll stop here for gas,” said Hunky, guiding the car around another which was filling from a tank by a country store.

A thick-set young man was turning the gasoline pump-handle and another man, athletic in build and in his early thirties, was watching the flow into the tank of his car.

Nobody up in that section of the world ever hurries, and the conversation between the two was easy and unruffled.

“Sure you won’t disappoint us?” asked the store-keeper.

“No fear,” answered the other. “Cases all taken care of and I can get away with no trouble. Better give me two quarts of oil, Ed, medium.”

The one called Ed went inside, and Hunky and I followed him in search of tobacco. He obliged me with a package and also some conversation which he seemed anxious to spill.

“That feller out there is our district attorney,” he said. “Wouldn’t think it, would you? Young and all that. Fact, he’s the youngest district attorney in our state. He plays short field on our baseball team—The Hunterville Tigers.”

“So he’s district attorney?” inquired Hunky.

“Sure is, and smart as they make ’em.”

Hunky wandered out to the cars in front. I followed. He approached the young official, who was putting up the hood of his car in readiness for the oil.

“Sir,” said Hunky to him. “Are you District Attorney for this county?”

“Yes, sir,” answered the man, straightening up and gazing back at Hunky with a pair of very frank and fearless gray eyes.

“In that case I want to tell you something,” said Hunky. “I just broke into an old house about three miles down this road. It looked to be a deserted house, all covered with woodbine and a lot of golden glow in the front of it.”

“That’s the Old Collishaw House. It is deserted. No one has lived there for fifteen years.”

“I thought so, too—consequently when I ventured through a door and looked smack into the barrel of an unprepossessing revolver you can realize I was surprised some.”

The young District Attorney pushed his hat up from his forehead. There seemed nothing at all that could be hidden from his eyes, and now he bent their gaze on Hunky.

“Hum,” he said finally. “If that had happened at night I’d say that you were seeing things.”

Hunky laughed.

“My friend had the same pleasure and also assisted me in reaching for the sky. It was an old lady who was on the other end of that gun.”

“Old lady?”

“Yes. She searched us mentally and told us to get out. We did. That wasn’t more than fifteen minutes ago. Here’s the strange thing about it to my mind. Old house, old lady, everything moss-covered and dusty—and a brand new up-to-date automatic in the old dame’s hand.”

The other man mused over this without comment. Finally he shot a question at us.

“Where are you two going?”

“Fishing in Cold Stream Pond. Come up here every year. My name is Doctor Wilbur Hunneker and my friend’s is Edward Triteham.”

“You wait here for me,” said the District Attorney, quickly making a decision. “I’m going to run down there. If some one is hanging around that house I want to know who it is and what they want. Will you wait here until I return?”

“Certainly,” Hunky replied. “Or I’ll go with you if you like.”

“No,” the other quickly answered, getting into his roadster. “I’ll go it alone. See you later.”

He shot off down the road in a cloud of powdery dust.

Hunky and I went into the cool interior of the country store and regaled ourselves with root beer and the store-keeper’s conversation, which for the moment was wholly of the young District Attorney. He was a most remarkable county official, we were told.

It seemed but a moment when the subject of the talk was back in another swirl of dust. He jumped out of his car. We went out to meet him.

“Gone,” he said laconically to our inquiring look. “But somebody was there all right. What the devil they wanted is more than I can fathom. Nothing disturbed—isn’t much to disturb. But it bothers me. You’re sure about that gun?” His eyes bored us.

Hunky faced him.

“Quite,” he said quietly. “I know guns. Also, I know the look in eyes behind them. I’m a physician and I have to know people. This old woman had some good reason for wanting to scare us away.”

“I know that,” replied the young man, with his mouth set in a line. “Guns and deserted houses don’t make a very reassuring picture.”

“Did you look all around the house?” inquired my friend.

“Sure. Probably those old eyes were on me while I was doing it. She couldn’t have gone far; possibly she was in the woods nearby. I made only a cursory examination so as not to excite suspicion if she or anybody else had been watching. Now let’s see, what’s back of that house. The old wood lot—a pasture——”

“That’s all,” spoke up the store-keeper. “Then the railroad cuts through beyond that.”

“Railroad!” said the District Attorney sharply. “Why, that’s about the point where that wreck was yesterday afternoon.”

“Yes,” replied the store-keeper. “The pasture lot runs right down to the bend, and it was on that bend that the cars left the track.”

“By George! you’re right,” exclaimed the District Attorney.

He seemed to ponder the situation for a few moments. Then he made a movement as if to be off.

“I won’t detain you gentlemen,” he said quickly. “If you want to fish you’d better be on your way. Just about time to make it before sundown.”

Hunky smiled.

“I’m not so keen on fishing as my friend Triteham here,” he said quietly. “I’d much rather go along with you to see that wreck.”

The District Attorney eyed him carefully. Then:

“All right. I’d be glad of your company if you feel that way about it.”

“Something tells me I had better leave the fish to their watery beds today,” said I.

“All right,” answered our new acquaintance.

And the three of us started on a brisk walk in what seemed a circuitous direction. The District Attorney knew the lay of the land, and after about twenty minutes we came upon the railroad tracks. Here we turned back in the direction of the deserted house.

In about three-quarters of an hour we came upon a distant view of the wreck around a bend. A railroad gang was at work, straightening the tangled mess caused by three freight cars which had left the rails.

The District Attorney approached the foreman of the gang and made himself known.

“Anybody hurt?” he asked.

“Nope. Not going very fast. We hope to get the tracks cleared by tomorrow.”

“Do you mind if I look around—over the cars?” asked the District Attorney.

“Go ahead,” replied the foreman.

The three of us began inspecting the whole train from engine to caboose. The District Attorney scrutinized everything.

After the examination, which seemed to offer up nothing of special interest, our new friend suggested we retrace our steps. We straggled along the ties, each to himself, nobody having much to say.

“Something tells me,” finally spoke the District Attorney, “that your old woman with the gun and this wreck are connected in some way. Certainly there is nothing either mysterious or valuable about that old house. Why should someone become suddenly interested in it enough to go around armed and to warn away intruders? The only thing significant is that wreck. If it is that—then developments will take place quickly and in darkness.”

“It is getting dark now,” I suggested.

“Yes. I’m going to stick around here and see what I shall see. You boys can find your way back to the store. Just follow the tracks and turn into the path at the bridge.”

Hunky smiled. “If it’s all the same to you, we’d like to stick.”

The District Attorney hesitated a moment, then said: “All right. It will be a lonely vigil, and maybe you can help if anything does happen.”

We stopped about half a mile from the wreck, and sat down to wait for darkness. In the woods twilight is short, and we hadn’t long to wait. Back we turned and worked cautiously toward the wreck.

The gang was still at work, and in the distance we could see their grotesque shapes by the light of their lanterns. The operations were up ahead and we kept just in the rear and about a hundred feet to one side of the caboose. This vantage point enabled us to command a view of the wreck and the approach to it from the pasture and woods. Our own position was well concealed.

Four hours went by, slowly because of the damp and cold of the night. The illuminated hands of my wrist watch told me it was between eleven and midnight. Banks of fleecy fog clung here and there to the low trees and the ground. The night sounds of the woods mingled eerily with the sharp noises made by the wrecking crew. It was cold and damp.

Suddenly the sharp eyes and ears of the District Attorney must have told him something, for his hand went out in warning. Whatever the warning was, it proved correct because we became aware, almost at once, of five dark figures stealing up the slight incline toward that part of the train which remained on the rails. Then we noticed two more figures edging their way toward the front end of the wreck where the operations were being conducted.

“Let ’em start whatever they intend doing,” whispered the District Attorney. “We are outnumbered, two to one, unless the crew backs us up. You’re both set?”

“We’re both armed and we’re both good shots,” answered Hunky.

The five figures showed no hesitation in their movements, but made for the fourth car from the caboose. We could see two of them hold a third man upon their shoulders while he worked at the door.

Beyond, the other two had surprised the work gang and we could see their hands go up in the flickering light.

“Let’s get nearer,” whispered the District Attorney.

Slowly, we began to move forward. We were about one hundred and fifty feet from the larger group when an unexpected shot rang out. The men working on the door became alert in a second.

We could see the five men dragging boxes from the car, the door of which they had slid back. They weren’t any too quiet about it, so our footsteps were not heard.

The District Attorney ran quickly forward in a crouching position. We followed and spread out so as not to be in his line. When he was within twenty feet one of the robbers turned—and he never turned again in this world. The District Attorney dropped him with one shot.

Both our guns barked at the same time. So sudden and unexpected had been our onslaught that we had a bully jump on them. The resistance, while spirited and desperate for a few seconds, was quickly overcome. Three of them were laid out, either wounded badly or dead. One tried to get into the car, and Hunky dropped him right in the doorway. He came down with a thud on the ground. The one remaining man surrendered, and we disarmed him.

Shots were coming from the head of the train, and, leaving the scene of our first encounter, we rushed down there. The two on guard had turned for a minute, and the boss of the wrecking crew had drawn his gun and opened up on them. They were caught between two fires and couldn’t get away.

In a matter of minutes we had them all trussed up. The others we carried into the caboose for the time being.

The District Attorney wasted little time on them. He turned his attention to the car which had been opened by the robbers. When Hunky and I came up he was a puzzled man.

“Turnips!” he exploded. “A whole carload of ’em! Must be something else in here.”

The three of us tugged and hauled for a quarter of an hour, while a brakeman held a lantern for us to see by. Our efforts were finally rewarded by something which we were not surprised to find by that time.

Yes, indeed. Case after case of whisky! That was the cargo those birds were after.

It was plain enough now. The gang was part of an organized whisky-ring engaged in smuggling whisky from Canada into the United States. They had, through the connivance of confederates, secreted the liquor at the point of embarkation beneath a larger load of turnips. The car would have reached its destination and been secretly unloaded by members of the gang waiting for it, possibly in the big train yards at night.

Then had come the wreck. Perhaps someone in the employ of the road had wired the gang. Anyway, they had learned of it and hustled to the scene desperate on getting the liquor.

The connection must have been between the old deserted house, which we had stumbled on by mistake, and the wreck. Evidently they had planned to carry the stuff in cases to the deserted house and thence over the road by automobiles. Undoubtedly, we would find several big high-powered cars when we got to the house.

The District Attorney, Hunky and I went into the caboose after checking up the loot which proved to be over one hundred cases. Some of the crooks were stretched out and some sitting up. Two of them would never do any more robbing in this sprightly existence.

One was sitting hunched upon a stool and a mighty evil-looking bird he was. His black eyes scowled all kinds of malevolence at us. He looked vaguely familiar and when I caught his eye I recognized him.

“Hum. Changed your sex, I see,” I snapped at him.

He didn’t favor me with a reply—just glared at me.

“Recognize our old pal, Hunky?” I said to my friend. “This is the old lady who gave us the scare in the farm house.”

“By George, you’re right,” said Hunky. “What was the idea of the masquerade?”

But the fellow wouldn’t tell. And he never did say, as far as we ever could learn, why he had chosen to play the part of an old woman. Perhaps he had figured that in that role he would be better able to avert suspicion if he had been seen around the deserted farm house. Perhaps it would have worked, too, had he not made the mistake of holding us up with that suspiciously new and modern gun.

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DETECTIVE TALES

The Eyrie

Here we are with the second issue of WEIRD TALES—and we’re going strong! Or at least—judging by the number of congratulatory letters that the postman drops on our desk every morning—we’re making lots of friends.

But, says the boss, are we also making money? A fair question! As we remarked before, WEIRD TALES is an experiment. There has never been another magazine quite like this, hence nobody knows whether or not such a magazine will pay. And, of course, if a magazine doesn’t pay it promptly ceases to exist.

We do believe, though, that WEIRD TALES has entered upon a long and flourishing journey. We know there are multitudes of readers who like this kind of magazine and are willing to buy it. Are these readers numerous enough to support WEIRD TALES? The answer is up to you.

But we’ll never get anywhere unless we all work together. It’s our job to publish the right sort of magazine. It’s yours to buy it. If we both do these things as we should—why, then, of course, WEIRD TALES is sure to succeed. Nothing can stop it.

And if anybody thinks that ours is the easiest task he should sit at our desk for a day or so and wade through the rivers of manuscripts that are flooding us like the waters of spring. From this great welter of material we must select such stories as we think you’d like to read. And since it is manifestly impossible to know the likes and dislikes of some ten of thousands of readers, we are often uncertain what to put in and what to leave out. Generally, we try to solve this perplexing problem by choosing only those stories in which we ourselves can become genuinely interested, assuming that anything that interests us will likewise interest others. Maybe we’re wrong about this; but—what would YOU do if you were editor of WEIRD TALES?

Although most of the manuscripts we receive are obviously hopeless, all must be read. Of the thousands of manuscripts sent to our office not one has been returned, or ever will be returned, unread. We cannot afford to take a chance on missing something really good.

Too many authors place too much stress upon atmospheric conditions when they take their trusty typewriters in hand to turn out a goose-flesh thriller. Seven in ten, when opening their stories, employ a variant of the well-worn dictum: “’Twas a dark and stormy night.” Why is this? Must the heavens weep and the thunder growl to make a weird tale? We think not. Weird, indeed, is “The Forty Jars,” published in this issue, and yet the story takes place on a red-hot desert beneath a blazing sun.

But let’s look through some of these letters on our desk. Here’s something short and snappy from H. W. of Sterling, Illinois:

“My dear Mr. Baird: I have just notified my attorney to start suit against you and your new magazine for personal injury. My eyes are rather poor, and the first number was so interesting that I sat up nearly all night reading it—and as a result I’ve been wearing smoked glasses ever since. WEIRD TALES seems to me to fill a long felt want in magazine circles. I have always delighted in stories of the ‘Dracula’ type and that Sax Rohmer stuff, and I never could understand why the editors didn’t wake up. You, as a pioneer in the field, are giving them something to think about. Meanwhile, if you make the next number as interesting as the first, I’ll likely go blind.”

Despite the danger to H. W.’s eyesight, we tried to make this number even more interesting than the first. And we’re going to make the next number more interesting than this.

We have here a letter from C. L. Austin, 328 Locust Avenue, Amsterdam, N. Y., that simply must be printed if for no other reason than as an answer to the last ten words of it:

“Gentlemen: Having read the first issue of your magazine, WEIRD TALES, I must admit that I like the stories very much. They are entirely out of the ordinary. There is no question but what this magazine will be a big success, providing the editor is not hedged in by a multitude of ‘don’t’s’ from the managing department. It is a well-known fact that many times an editor would like to accept material that in many ways would conflict with the policy of the magazine, and there is a loss of what no doubt would be valuable material. In fact, I have known for some time that adverse criticism of half a dozen people in different sections of the country have power to change the entire editorial policy of a magazine.

“And unless the editor is the kind of man who is brave enough to stick for his ideals, regardless of his job, there must be much vacillation, with a consequent loss of valuable material and a depreciation in the reading value of the magazine. I notice that you say you will publish all letters received, providing there is no objection by the writers. Well, really now, old chap, I’ve no possible objection, but I doubt that you have the nerve to do it.”

With no desire to engage in a controversy with Mr. Austin, we must say to him emphatically that the editorial policy of WEIRD TALES is not dictated by the business office. We will stand or fall on our platform of “something new in magazine fiction.” If you support us, we shall be able to give you what you want. If you turn thumbs down, we’ll blow out the gas and go home in the dark. In any event, there will be no compromise. WEIRD TALES, as long as it lives, will always be “The Unique Magazine.”

Here’s another:

“Dear sir: I have just read your new magazine, WEIRD TALES, also The Eyrie by yourself. SOME magazine, I’ll say! There is a real kick to these stories—something that is pitifully lacking in the stories of most magazines. Why editors shy at ‘weird’ and ‘horror’ stories has always been a mystery to me. I like meat in my literature the same as I do in my menu. This willy-nilly stuff of would-be cowboys (when there aren’t any such animals nowadays) is sickening. So is sugar when eaten to excess. Keep this magazine going. There is a demand for such literature. We all love mystery and stories that give us cold spine (we of the public), whether the editors think so or not. This magazine of yours will prove it, I’m sure. Believe me, I’m for it! For the same reason I have always read Poe. And to prove this, I am enclosing a check for a year’s subscription. Money talks. We are always willing to pay for what we like.”

That letter came from Dr. Vance J. Hoyt, suite 818, Baker Detwiler Building, Los Angeles, California, and that’s the sort of letter we particularly like to read. As the doctor says, money talks,—and it speaks with an eloquent tongue!

So, also, do letters of frank criticism such as the following:

“I’m glad to say that I think the first issue of WEIRD TALES very good. I read ‘Ooze,’ ‘The Ghoul and the Corpse,’ ‘Fear,’ ‘The Place of Madness,’ ‘The Unknown Beast,’ ‘The Sequel,’ ‘The Young Man Who Wanted to Die.’ Of these I was mightily taken with ‘The Ghoul and the Corpse,’ which, to my mind, ran a close race with ‘Ooze’—in fact, as to handling, I think the best written, by far, of any that I read. Taylor’s story was good—my wife read it, and liked it—and so did I, as to theme. The handling left something to be desired in the way of smoothness, but, as a story, it was the cat’s whiskers. ‘The Unknown Beast’ was about the poorest, pressed for this honor by Story’s ‘Sequel.’ But, all in all, I am heartily in accord with your editorial dictum that people DO like and want grim stories. I know that I’m one who does. And I read ‘The Grim Thirteen,’ with some amazement that none of these stories had sold previously.

“I think some of our editors are so hide-bound, so cribbed, cabined and confined within the narrow limits of an increasingly myopic purview that, for the life of them, they can see nothing but stereotypes. Or else they’re not really editors, but just hired men who have to pass the stuff up to a ‘business’ boss who doesn’t know a single thing about fiction, or life, either, for that matter. All in all, I congratulate you on something really good—AND new.—H. C., Summit, N. J.”

We have received a considerable number of letters like the following from S. O. B. of Beulah, New Mexico:

“Your enterprise hits me in the right spot. I am a lover of Poe’s stuff, and have often felt that the general editorial prejudice against weird stories today isn’t, after all, a true reflection of the people’s taste. I hope my opinion is correct and that WEIRD TALES may receive a hearty welcome.”

Also like this:

“Congratulations on your new magazine, WEIRD TALES! The first edition was a veritable ghastly, ghostly knockout! Most every one enjoys an occasional ghost story, and a thrilling novelette like ‘Ooze’ is a better tonic than Tanlac.—D. L. C., Denver, Colorado.”

Victor Wilson of Hazen, Pa., writes us:

“I have just finished reading the first installment of ‘The Thing of a Thousand Shapes.’ It is fine, and one who has a good imagination should not ‘start it late at night.’ I wish to congratulate you on your fine fiction magazine. I am a reader of several other magazines of up-to-date fiction, but yours is the first of its kind. I have not read all of the stories, but I like ‘The Place of Madness,’ ‘The Grave,’ and ‘Hark! The Rattle!’”

And here’s a line o’ type or two from our star contrib, Anthony M. Rud:

“WEIRD TALES seems to have hit your mark excellently well. It possesses glamor for me in every yarn but two—which I won’t attempt to criticize as both well may suit other readers exactly.”

We wish Rud had told us the names of those two yarns. Strange as it may seem, we’re always more interested in adverse criticism than in praise.

Still, we can’t deny that we like to get letters like this one from C. P. O. of Gainesville, Texas:

“Dear Mr. Baird: Allow me to number myself among the first subscribers to the new venture. Check enclosed. The sub-title, ‘unique,’ really describes the magazine, even in these days of specialization in the magazine field.... WEIRD TALES appears at a time when the public is interested in this type of story, I believe, as I notice in the monthly bulletins of Brentano’s, McClurg’s and Baker & Taylor that quite a collection of ghost, psychic and weird tales are appearing in book form. Most famous authors wrote one or more weird tales; to mention a few: Dickens, Thackeray, Poe, Bierce, O’Brien, F. Marion Crawford and De Maupassant. I fear you will find greater trouble in securing good material for WEIRD TALES than for DETECTIVE TALES, for, after all, the detective story is a matter of craftsmanship while the really first-class ghost or weird tale is a matter of art.”

It is hard to get good material for WEIRD TALES; but we’re glad to work hard for it—to go almost to any length for it—if, by so doing, we can offer something distinctive and worthwhile and UNIQUE in magazines.

Here’s another letter from Texas:

“Dear sir: I just bought a copy of WEIRD TALES, and I have read most of the stories and consider them very good. I believe that a magazine of this type will be very popular. In fact, I am sure it will be, and I trust nothing will happen to change your policy in regard to the type of material you are now using and expect to use in the future.—J. H. C., Houston, Texas.”

William S. Waudby of Washington, D. C., wrote to us, “You have struck the right key with WEIRD TALES, and congratulations are in order for Vol. 1, No. 1,” while E. E. L. of Chicago wrote to us, in part, as follows:

“Gentlemen: ... You will probably be deluged with a lot of stuff, for everybody who writes is sometimes compelled to commit to paper some seductive phantasm of his brain for the sheer pleasure of doing it.... Poe took more than 5,000 words to develop his supreme story of horror, and those who have an ambition to imitate the Master will often require a larger canvas. Your story lengths—1,000 to 20,000 words—will give everybody a chance to show what he can do. May I not express the hope that your magazine will prove a success, and that you will publish therein stories that otherwise would molder in filing-cases, and which will be lifted from your pages to become a permanent part of our literature?... If the contributions can maintain a sufficiently high level you can count on me as one of your permanent subscribers, for I dearly love to read stories of this character.”

With regard to WEIRD TALES for May: We meant to say a good deal about it in this month’s Eyrie, but we’ve consumed so much space with our correspondence that we’ve precious little room left. All we can tell you now is that if you are seeking the “usual type” of fiction you will not find it in the May issue of WEIRD TALES. But if you are looking for “something different”—something that you’ve never expected to see in any magazine—then the place to find it is in the May WEIRD TALES. Need we say more?—THE EDITOR.

THE SKELETON IN
YOUR CLOSET!

Open the door and tell us the weird event of your family history. It may sound terrible to you after reading it but to others would prove only ordinary reading matter.

The similarity of these “skeletons” cannot be other than remarkable and interesting to our readers.

Your “skeleton” should not exceed 1000 words or run less than 500. If possible have them typewritten.

Your name and address will not be published with the story if accepted. For each “skeleton” published we will pay $5.00.

No unpublished stories returned unless requested and accompanied by return stamped envelope.

THE EDITOR
WEIRD TALES 854 N. Clark St. CHICAGO

21 Jewel Burlington

Only $1.00 Down

Only One Dollar Down, will buy this masterpiece of watch manufacture. The balance you are allowed to pay in small, easy monthly payments. A 21 Jewel Watch—is sold to you at a price much lower than that of other high-grade watches. Besides, you have the selection of the finest thin model designs and latest styles in watch cases. Write for FREE Watch Book and our SPECIAL OFFER today.

The Burlington “Petite”

This exquisite little 17-jewel ladies’ wrist watch. A perfect timepiece. Beautiful. 14K Solid Green Gold case. Illustration is exact size of Burlington “Petite”.

Send for this wonderful little bracelet watch. See how beautiful the dainty green gold case looks on your own wrist.

Write
While This Special Offer Lasts

Get the Burlington Watch Book—write today. Find out about this great special offer which is being made for only a limited time. You will know a great deal more about watch buying when you read this book. You will be able to “steer clear” of the over-priced watches which are no better. Write for Watch Book and our special offer TODAY!

Burlington Watch Company
Dept. 13-96, 19th St. & Marshall Blvd. Chicago
Canadian Address 62 Albert St., Winnipeg, Manitoba

Please send me (without obligations and prepaid) your free book on watches with full explanation of your $1.00 down offer on the Burlington Watch.

Name

Address

SEND NO MONEY

$4.98

Startling WATCH Offer!

This beautiful high grade ladies’ small size, octagon watch, with choice of gold finished link or ribbon bracelet guaranteed gold finish ($15 value). Special advertising price $4.98. Stem wind and set, beautiful case, attractive gold dial, splendid movement, good timekeeper. Sent in Morocco finish, silk lined gift case.

Beautiful Gift

Don’t Send a Penny
Just Write!

Just send name and address. Pay postman on delivery our Special advertising Price $4.98. Satisfaction guaranteed. Write TODAY.

THE CHARLES CO.
1440 S. Mich. Ave. Dept. 219, Chicago

CATARRH

TREATED FREE 10 DAYS to prove quick relief. Dr. Coffee had catarrh, deafness, head noises. He found a treatment that gave complete relief. Thousands used it successfully. Want you to try it free. Write

Dr. W. O. COFFEE
Dept. 1726 Davenport, Iowa.

Are You Reading

FRANCIS D. GRIERSON’S

New Series of

Short Detective Stories?

They Are Published in
DETECTIVE TALES

A Complete Story in Every Issue

IF YOU CAN TELL IT FROM
A DIAMOND
SEND IT BACK

LADIES GENTS

A genuine full carat size sparkling gem full of life and fire. Set in Ladies’ and Gent’s handsome Platinoid finish mounting as pictured. Startle your friends and relatives! You will be proud to own a DIAMOGEM. Buy direct from Importers. Do not be misled by offers of similar appearing gems. Buy a genuine DIAMOGEM. Others ask twice and five times as much for inferior gems. We are the sole and only importers of DIAMOGEMS. We offer Radiant Rings within the reach of everyone! BECAUSE—WE DEFY THE DIAMOND TRUST! THE CASTE WALL OF THE DIM AGES IS BROKEN DOWN—AT LAST—YOU can wear a ring glittering with the prismatic fury and white blinding light shot forth from a flawless DIAMOGEM INDISTINGUISHABLE from the radiant Kimberley Cut Diamonds so costly that they graced the arms and fingers of only the Queens of the past and the Great Wealthy of today. YOU are the one benefited! The fight is for you! SPECIAL ADVERTISING OFFER. For a short time only, as an advertising offer you can get the ring without sending one penny! Send paper strip around finger for size. Pay postman $1.97 when ring is delivered. We pay postage.

$1.97 C. O. D.

GENERAL PRODUCTS CO.
1333 Fulton Street Dept. 12 CHICAGO

Pay Cash—Save 50%
10 Jewel 20 Year Case

$7.45

BRACELET FREE

SEND NO
MONEY

We are offering our finest ladies’ watches below wholesale cost. 20-yr. guarantee. 10-jewels, 14k, gold-filled watch, silk grosgrain ribbon and clasp. ALL for $7.45 prepaid. $15 value. Stem wind and set. Stylish octagon surround case. Gold dial. Splendid time-keeper. Sent in velvet gift case. Order today and get gold bracelet FREE. Send no money, just name and address. Satisfaction guaranteed or money refunded. Write today.

SUPREME JEWELRY MFG. CO.
Dept. 318 434 Broadway New York

“The Devil’s Fingerprint”

By LAURIE McCLINTOCK
and CULPEPER CHUNN

Is a Story of Thrills and Mystery

YOU’LL FIND IT IN
DETECTIVE TALES

$1.00 BRINGS YOU THIS FINE GUN!

ORDER No. 3713

WESTERN SPECIAL

32 or 38 CALIBER

A real man’s gun. A hard hitting, straight shooter, 6 in. barrel top-break style with automatic shell ejector. American made, double action and special grips. Handsomely finished in fine blue steel. Protect yourself and home. Just mail a dollar bill and we will send you one at our low bargain price. Order NOW.

Balance only
$10.95
C. O. D. plus postage

FREE GUN AND NOVELTY CATALOG

AMERICAN NOVELTY CO. 2455-57 Archer Ave., CHICAGO

DIAMONDS
WATCHES on CREDIT

LOFTIS
BROS & CO. EST 1858

Genuine Diamonds
GUARANTEED

SEND FOR
CATALOG

Over 2,000 bargains. Select as many articles as you wish and have all charged in one account. Sent prepaid for your Free Examination. Catalog explains everything.

LIBERTY BONDS ACCEPTED

JEANETTE
Diamond Ring

Blue white, radiant, perfect cut Diamond. The ring is 18-K Solid White Gold, curved and pierced. Extra special at.... $100

We import Diamonds direct from Europe and sell direct to you. Our immense buying power is a great saving to you. Customers testify to Loftis values.

Diamonds Win Hearts

17-JEWEL ELGIN

No. 15—Green Gold, engraved, guaranteed 25 years, 12 size, gilt dial. Assorted patterns, $35

No. 16—Wrist Watch, 18-K Solid
White Gold, 17 Jewels,		$30;
14-K, 15 Jewels$32

CREDIT TERMS on all articles: One-fifth down, balance divided into equal payments within eight months. Send for Catalog.

LOFTIS
Bros. & Co. 1858

THE OLD RELIABLE ORIGINAL CREDIT JEWELERS

DEPT. M-376
106 N. State St., Chicago, Ill.
Stores in Leading Cities

MYSTIC EGYPTIAN LUCK RING

Good Luck, Long Life, Health and Prosperity are said to come to those who wear the Egyptian Luck Ring. Cleopatra is said to have worn one of these rings to protect her from misfortune. Many people wearing them today claim they bring power and success to men—charm, admiration, and love to women. This guaranteed Sterling Silver Egyptian Luck Ring is of unique design and beauty. Send strip of paper for size. Say whether ladies’ or gents’. Cash $1.45; C. O. D. $1.55. Order today. Money back if not pleased.

EGYPTIAN GEM IMPORTERS
651 Maxwell St., Dept. 163, Chicago

Tailoring Agents Wanted

Make $75.00 per week and up selling our fine, made-to-measure, all-wool suits at $39.50 retail, direct to wearer; biggest value ever offered; positively sell on sight; liberal profits paid in advance. We attend to delivery and collections. Write at once giving full particulars as to your past experience. Full line of samples and everything to work with will be sent with the least possible delay.

W. Z. GIBSON, Inc.
Dept. P-1001, 161 W. Harrison St., Chicago, Ill.

Great New
Invention
for seekers of
Health
Power
Beauty

Elco Health Generators at last are ready for you! If you want more health—greater power to enjoy the pleasures and delights about you, or if more beauty is your desire—write! Ask for the book on these inventions which has just been prepared. It will be sent to you without cost. It tells you how Elco Health Generators aid you in leaving the lethargy and hopelessness of bad health and weakness behind forever. Re-vitalize yourself. Bring back energy. Be wholly alive. Write today!

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Mail Coupon for FREE Book!

Do not put this paper down without sending the coupon. Don’t go on as you are with pains and with almost no life and energy. You owe it to yourself to be a better man or woman. You were put here to enjoy life—not just to drag through it. So do not rest another day until you have put your name on the coupon here. That will bring the whole story of these great new inventions. Do it today—now.

Lindstrom & Company
438-448 N. Wells Street, Dept. 13-94 Chicago, Ill.

Please send me your fine book, “Health—Power—Beauty” and full information on your 10-day Free Trial Offer.

Name

Address

SERGE DRESS

Fringed PANELS

Elaborately Embroidered

Lace Collar FREE!

Write for this stunning dress today and we’ll give you FREE the exquisite lace collar! We guarantee you will say this is the most becoming dress you ever wore and the biggest bargain you ever saw. Money back quick if you can match the style and quality anywhere for less than $3.98. Save $$—prove it at our risk!

SALE
$3.98

Material guaranteed! Ever-Wear Serge, soft and fine quality. Two panels, elaborately embroidered with wool French Knot medallions and gold-stitched black silk scroll design, are finished with black silk fringe. Silk braid pipes panels and sleeves. Long bolt of silk material forms tie and streamers. Elegant workmanship and full cut!

Don’t Send a Penny!

Next Season’s prime style and worlds’s biggest money’s worth—this surprise bargain will bring us 100,000 permanent customers. Rush name, size: Women’s 28 to 40 inch bust. Misses’ 16 to 20 years. Deposit $3.98 and postage and try it on! Remember beautiful lace collar FREE if you order right away! Pay on arrival!

Your money back if you aren’t delighted!

Navy Blue or Brown

State Color

INTERNATIONAL MAIL ORDER CO.
Dept. E201B CHICAGO

Complete Shaving Set

$8 VALUE for
ONLY $2.88

CHOICE of Latest Style Safety Razor or Straight Razor, together with 16-in. highly polished nickel plated stand, plate glass adjustable mirror, porcelain cup and rubber-set brush, all for ONLY $2.88—postage paid.

FREE! With safety razor, 1 doz. blades. In ordering state style razor wanted. Send No Money. Order now.

PEOPLES MAIL ORDER HOUSE, Dep. M-178
1145 Blue Island Ave. Chicago, Illinois

Berton Braley’s

New Story In

DETECTIVE TALES

Will Keep You Laughing From Start to Finish

DON’T MISS IT!

2 TIRES FOR $9.95

(SIZE 28 × 3)

FREE TUBE WITH EACH TIRE

Standard Tire Prices Smashed Again!—and some sensational cut, too! Think of it—two tires for almost the price of one and a FREE inner tube with each tire. No double treads or sewed tires. Thousands of customers are getting maximum mileage out of these tires, and you, too, can get up to

10,000 MILES

Here’s your opportunity—if you act at once. This is a special lot selected for this record-breaking sale. Order today—right now. They’re going fast.

Compare These Amazing Reductions on Two Tires of Same Size

SIZE1 TIRE2 TIRES
28 × 3$6.75$9.95
30 × 37.2511.95
30 × 3½8.2513.95
32 × 3½9.4515.95
31 × 410.6517.45
32 × 411.8519.75
33 × 412.4520.90
34 × 413.2521.95

Prices on larger sizes quoted on request. Prices f.o.b. Chicago.

SEND NO MONEY! We ship subject to examination by Express before payment of C. O. D. charges, or by Parcel Post after payment of C. O. D. charges. Examine tires on arrival, and if not completely satisfied, return same unused and your money will be promptly refunded. Specify straight side or clincher. ACT NOW.

ROCKWELL TIRE COMPANY
1506 S. Michigan Ave., Dept. 40-D, Chicago, Ill.

Beautiful Guaranteed Watch
$3.30

Here’s your only opportunity to get this elegant high grade thin model watch with choice of gold, silver, radium, or fancy engraved dial for only $3.30 C. O. D. Open face, stem wind and set. Adjusted. Fully tested. Guaranteed perfect timekeeper. A watch you’ll be proud to own.

FREE If you write at once—beautiful waldemar knife and chain with your order. Send No Money. Pay postman on arrival only $3.30 and the watch, knife, and chain are yours. Satisfaction Guaranteed. Order today sure.

First National Watch Co., 651 Maxwell St., Dept. 116, Chicago

HENRY LEVERAGE
Author of “Whispering Wires”
Has Another Exciting Story in this Month’s
DETECTIVE TALES

WANTED! U.S. RAILWAY MAIL CLERKS

Get $1600 to $2300 a Year

STEADY WORK PAID VACATIONS NO LAYOFFS

Common Education Sufficient

Travel—See the Country

MEN 18 OR OVER SHOULD MAIL COUPON IMMEDIATELY

Franklin Institute, Dept. R253.
Rochester, N. Y.

Sirs: Send me, without charge (1) specimen Railway Mail Clerk Examination questions; (2) list of Government jobs obtainable, (3) tell me how I can get a position.

Name

Address

What Would You Give to Become A Really Good Dancer?

How much would it be worth to you to make yourself so popular through your ability to dance all of the very latest steps, that everyone would be anxious to have you attend their social affairs?

Good dancers always have the best time. The best dancers and the prettiest girls always want a good partner. From the business as well as the social standpoint, it is really time and money profitably spent to add dancing to your other accomplishments. Especially so, since it now costs so little—and a fine dancing ability can be mastered in only a few hours.

Arthur Murray has perfected a method by which you can learn in the privacy of your own home, to dance any of the latest dances in a few minutes—and all of them in a short time. Instructions are so simple that even a child can quickly learn. In one evening you can master the steps of any single dance. Partner or music are not necessary. After learning you can dance with the best dancer in your town and not make a single misstep.

Arthur Murray

Dancing Instructor to the Vanderbilts

Learn Without Partner or Music

Arthur Murray’s remarkable method is so clearly explained and lucidly written that you don’t need any one to explain the instructions. The diagrams show every movement—just how to make each step of every dance, and the written instructions are concise and easily remembered. After you have quickly learned the steps by yourself in your own room, you can dance perfectly with any one. It will also be quite easy for you to dance in correct time on any floor to any orchestra or phonograph music.

Arthur Murray is recognized as America’s foremost authority on social dancing. Such people as the Vanderbilts, Ex-Gov. Locke Craig of North Carolina and scores of other socially prominent people chose Mr. Murray as their dancing instructor. Dancing teachers the world over take lessons from him—and it is a fact that more than 50,000 people have learned to become popular dancers through his Learn-at-home methods.

Free Proof You Can Learn the Latest Steps in an Evening

Private instructions in Mr. Murray’s studio would cost you $10 per lesson. But through his new method of teaching dancing at home, you get the same high-class instructions at a ridiculously low price. And if you aren’t delighted, the instruction doesn’t cost you one cent.

To prove that he can teach you, Mr. Murray will send you his full sixteen-lesson course for five days’ free trial. Through these sixteen lessons you will learn, The Correct Dancing Position—How to Gain Confidence—How to Follow Successfully—The Art of Making Your Feet Look Attractive—The Correct Walk in the Fox Trot—The Basic Principles in Waltzing—How to Waltz Backward—The Secret of Leading—The Chasse in the Fox Trot—The Forward Waltz Step—How to Leave One Partner to Dance with Another—How to Learn and Also Teach Your Child to Dance—What the Advanced Dancer Should Know—How to Develop Your Sense of Rhythm—Etiquette of the Ballroom.

Here’s What a Few Say

I practiced yesterday and learned the Fox Trot through the night. Tonight I danced a number of times with a good dancer to the music of a phonograph and had no trouble in leading or balance.

J. M. Mealy,
Flatwood, W. Va.

I am getting along very nicely with the instructions. I have so many pupils I have to have a larger place.

Albert J. Delaney,
Bay City, Mich.

Before I got your lessons I couldn’t dance a step, but now I go to dances and have a good time, like the rest of them. I’ll always be thankful, that I have taken your course.

Beggi Thorgerison,
Ethridge, Mont.

Special Proof Offer

Satisfy yourself that the new course can quickly teach you all of the new dances and latest steps. See for yourself how easily you can master all of the newest dances and be able to enjoy yourself at the very next affair to which you are invited. Just fill in and mail the coupon—or a postcard or letter will do, enclosing $1.00 in full payment—and the special course will be promptly sent to you. Keep the course for five full days—practice all the steps—learn everything the lessons teach, because that is the only way you can prove to your full satisfaction that Arthur Murray’s method is the quickest, easiest and most delightful way to learn how to dance correctly and expertly. Then, within five days, if you desire to do so, you may return the course and your deposit will be promptly refunded without any questions. But should you decide to keep the course, as you surely will, it becomes your property without further payments of any kind.

Your Satisfaction Guaranteed

Several times Arthur Murray has been asked how one can learn by mail to dance? The answer and the proof that you can learn is found in these special lessons. After reading them over and practicing the steps as shown in the diagrams, no one can help but feel convinced that Arthur Murray’s course does teach everything promised. And so positive is Mr. Murray that he can teach you that he absolutely guarantees your complete satisfaction or your money will be fully refunded.

You have always wanted to learn to dance—you have always promised yourself that some day you would learn. Here is your best opportunity. And remember, you now receive the 16 lessons for only $1.00.

ARTHUR MURRAY
Studio 653 801 Madison Ave. New York

Arthur Murray, Studio 653,
801 Madison Avenue, New York

To prove that you can teach me to dance in one evening at home you may send the sixteen-lesson course in plain cover. I am enclosing $1.00 in full payment, but it is understood that this is not to be considered a purchase unless the course in every way comes up to my expectations. If, within 5 days, I decide to return the course I may do so and you will refund my money promptly and without question.

Name

Address

City

State

(Price outside U. S. $1.10 cash with order.)

$1000 REWARD
For the Capture of This Man

Convict 6138, escaped from the State Penitentiary; Name, Charles Condray; Age, 37; Height, 5 ft. 8 in. Weight, 141 pounds; Hair, light brown; Eyes, gray.

Easy enough to identify him from his photograph and this description, you may say—but, Condray took the name of “Brown”, dyed his hair, darkened his skin, grew a mustache, put on weight and walked with a stoop. Yet, he was captured and identified so positively that he knew the game was up and returned to the penitentiary without extradition.

How was it accomplished? Easy enough for the Finger Print Expert. They are the specialists, the leaders, the cream of detectives. Every day’s paper tells their wonderful exploits in solving mysterious crimes and convicting dangerous criminals.

More Trained Men Needed

The demand for trained men by governments, states, cities, detective agencies, corporations, and private bureaus is becoming greater every day. Here is a real opportunity for YOU. Can you imagine a more fascinating line of work than this? Often life and death depend upon finger print evidence—and big rewards go to the expert. Many experts earn regularly from $3,000 to $10,000 per year.

Learn at Home in Spare Time

And now you can learn the secrets of this science at home in your spare time. Any man with common school education and average ability can become a Finger Print Detective in surprisingly short time.

Why don’t You be a Finger Print Expert?

Free Course in Secret Service

For a limited time we are making a special offer of a Professional Finger Print Outfit, absolutely Free, and Free Course in Secret Service Intelligence. Mastery of these two kindred professions will open a brilliant career for you.

Write quickly for fully illustrated free book on Finger Prints which explains this wonderful training in detail. Don’t wait until this offer has expired—mail the coupon now. You may never see this announcement again! You assume no obligation—you have everything to gain and nothing to lose. Write at once—address

University of Applied Science
Dept. 13-94 1920 Sunnyside Ave. Chicago, Illinois

UNIVERSITY OF APPLIED SCIENCE
Dept. 13-94, 1920 Sunnyside Avenue, Chicago, Illinois

Gentlemen:—Without any obligation whatever, send me your new, fully illustrated, FREE book on Finger Prints and your offer of a FREE course in Secret Service Intelligence and the Free Professional Finger Print Outfit.

Name

Address

Age