Word: lairs
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When he comes back, he has trouble with his sister (Ann Dvorak). Tony suspects someone of ruining her, immediately shoots him. The police trace Tony to his lair. Instead of shooting him, they shoot his sister. Tony survives just long enough to prove himself a coward. His riddled corpse is last seen in a gutter...
...Bill" Danforth's rightful lair is in Boston. Even before 1929 fortune made several spectacular visits to him, tarried and vanished. The first market break found him in a good cash position and he exuberantly began "selling the list," and he sold time and again. Soon the Danforth legend began to grow (TIME, Oct. 28, 1929). His tall, lean figure became familiar in the inner sanctums of Manhattan's speculating circles. Indian-like in appearance, he maintained an Indian's calm, made no tactical blunders. Aged 45, he likes golf, plays at the Westchester Country Club with...
Stalkers of New York City's perennially bumptious bogey, Corruption (see p. 12). discovered last week that it had a hitherto unsuspected lair: the schoolroom. Three weeks ago Dr. Maxwell Ross, chairman of the Allied Local School Boards of Brooklyn, learned that his personal cards were being distributed at the Thomas Jefferson Democratic Club in Brooklyn. Puzzled, suspecting no connection with school affairs, he hired Max B. Krone, private detective, to investigate. Detective Krone unearthed two slick racketeering rings, piled up evidence that they boasted of political "hook-ups," promised small favors to all who would pay for them...
Alma Rubens, TIME, Feb. 10, p. 71, "made a redebut at a Hollywood night club." It's not lair to Alma. She appeared in a sketch at the monthly offering of the Writers' Club, of Hollywood, of which Rupert Hughes is, or was last year, president. That was her redebut. And the Writers' Club of Hollywood is no more a night club than is the home of the Century Association of New York. Except upon the occasion of its monthly stage entertainments its nights are dull and dreary. Please put our Alma right with your readers...
...sound of his horn woke me from my bed And the cry of his hounds, which he oft times led Peel's 'View Haloo!' would awaken the dead Or the fox from his lair in the morning. -CUMBERLAND HUNTING SONG In England and Virginia, Ireland and Ohio-wherever British or U. S. horsemen gather, people remembered that song last week, for cub hunting was over, formal fox hunting was beginning. Bank presidents set their alarm clocks for 5:30 a. m. Valets laid out scarlet coats and white breeches. Stalwart young women wore derby hats at dawn...