AROMATIC SUBSTANCES

The gratification of his senses is peculiar to man, and it is to this trait that we are indebted for all the arts. The activities which aimed at the gratification of the eye and ear developed into the creative arts and music, and in like manner human endeavor directed toward the stimulation of the sense of smell has in our time assumed the proportions both of an art and a…

Endpapers

“Jump!” Flash shouted again as his companion did not obey. Doyle braced himself against the floor boards. “I’m sticking,” he said. “Stop ’em if you can, Flash!” The monoplane roared down the field straight toward the car, rapidly gathering speed for the take-off. In another instant its wheels would leave the ground. Flash pressed the accelerator pedal to the floor. The car fairly leaped ahead. Too late Rascomb saw what…

Flash moved to the table

“Say, what is this?” Doyle demanded in an angry voice. “Put up your hands,” the chauffeur ordered again. “Don’t try any clever business or I’ll let you have it! Now get out of the car!” Silently Flash and Doyle obeyed. “Walk straight ahead down the road,” their captor commanded. “Is this a stick-up?” Doyle asked, standing his ground. The revolver prodded his back. “No, it isn’t a stick-up, brother. Move…

Once in the hallway

Motioning for Flash to follow, Captain Johns strode across the empty lobby to the desk. Curtly he questioned the sleepy-eyed clerk as to the occupant of Room 47. “Number 47? It was assigned about a half hour ago to Herbert Rascomb.” “I’m going up there to see a man,” informed the captain. “Now get this straight. If I fail to return to the lobby within twenty minutes, notify Major Hartgrove…

Flash moved swiftly to the door

George Doyle was in the bedroom, sitting at the writing desk. As Flash pushed open the door, he twisted in his chair to face him. “Flash!” “Rather surprised to see me, aren’t you, Doyle?” “Surprised?” Doyle arose unsteadily to his feet. “It’s a miracle! I—I gave you up for dead. Thought you had drowned.” “So sorry to inconvenience you.” “What are you looking at me like that for, Flash?” Doyle…

ESCAPE

Halfway down the path, the man paused and lighted a gasoline lantern. In the bright glow Flash distinguished the caretaker, Fleur. “Anyone here?” the old man called. He turned his lantern at different angles, throwing the beam over the ground. Flash stepped from behind the tree. “Good evening, Fleur.” The caretaker gave a gasp of surprise and nearly dropped the lantern. “Well, if it ain’t the young feller!” he exclaimed.…

Flash and Doyle stared in sheer fascination

George Doyle sat down on the edge of the dock, leaning his back against a post. “You bore me with those schoolboy ideas of yours, Flash,” he yawned. “Who cares about Rajah Mitra? We’re here and we can have a good time if you’ll act fairly appreciative, instead of being so blamed suspicious.” “There’s something about our friend Rascomb I don’t like.” “Oh, you make me tired!” Doyle said in…

Reaching the last prin

The _News-Vue_ sound truck pulled into the private grounds of the Excelsior Polo Club at exactly ten minutes to three. Through the elm trees George Doyle caught sight of the field, and gave a chuckle of pleasure. “The match is still on!” The seventh chukker was underway as the truck drew up at the sidelines. Flash and Doyle worked swiftly, knowing they had little time. “How’s the score?” the technician…

HIGH WATER

Bailey Brooks arose to greet the newcomer. As he turned to introduce Flash, Captain Johns forestalled him by saying in a curt voice: “We have met before, I believe!” “At the Columbia Hospital,” recalled Flash. The Captain seated himself on the opposite side of the table, regarding the cameraman with a cold scrutiny which was not easy to interpret. Assuming that he was an intruder at a private business conference,…

Everything will be fine

Flash stepped forward into George Doyle’s view. The soundman saw him and lapsed into confused silence. “Sorry. I couldn’t help hearing,” Flash apologized. “I don’t mind saying I’m curious about this proposition which wouldn’t interest me.” “You’re not Flash Evans?” inquired the stranger before Doyle could find his voice. “Yes, sir, I am.” “Flash, this is our district manager, Mr. Clewes,” Doyle said unwillingly. “We were just speaking of your…