Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 13, 2025
Snedden been killed by the carbonic oxide? Was it a case of gas poisoning? Then, too, why had she been here at all? Who had shut her up? Had she been overcome first and, in a stupor, been unable to move to save herself? Above all, what had this to do with the mysterious phantom slayer that had wrecked so much of the works in less than a week?
It was growing dark rapidly, and, with some difficulty, we retraced our steps to the point where we had left the car. We whirled back to the town, and, of course, to the Snedden house. Snedden was sitting in the parlor when we arrived, by the body of his wife, staring, speechless, straight before him, while several neighbors were gathered about, trying to console him.
"I don't think it makes much difference how you accomplish the result, Garfield," chimed in his wife, "as long as you accomplish it, and it is one that should be accomplished." Snedden retreated into the refuge of silence. Though this was only a bit of the conversation, we soon found out that he was an avowed pacifist.
"In all probability she came along just in time to surprise some one working on the other side of the old merry-go-round structure. There can be no reason to conceal the fact longer. From that deserted building some one was daily launching a newly designed invisible aeroplane. As Mrs. Snedden came along, she must have been just in time to see that person at his secret hangar.
An instant later I distinguished what his more sensitive eye had seen a woman, all alone in the car, motionless. "Ida!" he cried. There was no answer. "She she's dead!" he shouted. It was only too true. There was Ida Snedden, seated in Jackson's car in the old deserted building, all shut up dead.
Have traced them to the Wolcott. Try to reconcile Mr. Snedden. I saw at once that part of the story. It was just a plain love- affair that had ended in an elopement at a convenient time. The fire-eating Garretson had been afraid of the Sneddens and Jackson, who was their friend. Before I could even think further, Kennedy had drawn out the films taken by the rocket-camera.
"Oh," exclaimed Gertrude, with a little half-suppressed shudder, "I do hope those terrible explosions are at last over!" "If I had my way," asserted Garretson, savagely, "I'd put this town under martial law until they WERE over." "It may come to that," put in Jackson, quietly. "Quite in keeping with the present tendency of the age," agreed Snedden, in a tone of philosophical disagreement.
In the open air, where only a whiff or two would be inhale now and then, they are not dangerous. But in a closed room they may kill in an incredibly short time. In fact, the condition has given rise to an entirely new phenomenon which some one has named 'petromortis." "Petromortis?" repeated Snedden, who, for the first time, began to show interest in what was going on about him.
Snedden a raving maniac had reeled forward, wildly and impotently, at the man who had exposed him. "Oh, Mr. Jameson, if they could only wake her up find out what is the matter do something! This suspense is killing both mother and myself." Scenting a good feature story, my city editor had sent me out on an assignment, my sole equipment being a clipping of two paragraphs from the morning Star.
It was quite late in the afternoon when, at last, people came from the town and took away both the body of Mrs. Snedden and Jackson's car. Snedden could only stare and work his fingers, and after we had seen him safely in the care of some one we could trust Kennedy, MacLeod, and I climbed into MacLeod's car silently. "It's too deep for me," acknowledged MacLeod. "What shall we do next?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking