Word: windowed
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...evenings later, while James Bailey Cash Sr. drove out alone to a rendezvous, a stone crashed through a window at his home to call attention to another note. The thrower was heard escaping through the underbrush...
...Roosevelt had a nightmare himself. To a group of Congressional bigwigs assembled for a White House conference, he told the story. It was that one night right after the fatal United Air-Lines crash at Cleveland, he dreamed that he got up from bed, walked to a White House window, and witnessed a terrible crash at the Washington Airport. Most of the conferees knew that only in a dream could anyone see the Washington-Hoover Airport from a White House window, but they knew, too, that Franklin Roosevelt's vision this time contained more probable stuff than most dreams...
...morning, he knows, for the alarm clock has not yet shrilled the arrival of another day. Laboriously he opens an eye. Hmm, only six o'clock. At least four hours before the mind will be able to concentrate on work. Raising his head, he looks out the open window. Sun on towers and chimneys already. A pigeon coos on a nearby ledge. Four stories below a watchman's heavy feet lumber past, echoing dully. Hot Golly, it's hot. But why, the Vagabond wonders, after nine months training to the contrary, should he suddenly wake up early? Just to worship...
That droning--an airplane? Japs? Germans? Reds? It swells and fades, angry, important, businesslike. Ah, a wasp, or is it a hornet, zooms gracefully through the window and roars headlong into the closet. Sudden silence. Probably sampling the various gravy and beer spots on the Vagabond's suit. That'll hold him for a while--maybe kill him. The Vagabond relaxes: let's see, history review today. Damn, action again. The wasp-hornet breezes out of the closet, squats on the bowl of a pipe, sharpens up his stinger with his hind legs, hums contentedly to himself...
...dare with such an inquisitive visitor making the rounds of his belongings. The winged lancer squares off on the desk calendar and snorts contemptuously at a picture of the Vagabond's best girl. Bored, he revs up his motor and decides to leaves. He mistakes the mirror for a window and is quite some shaken up by the minor crackup which ensues. Then, having been aroused, he changes instantly from a disturbance into a menace. He runs out his stinger to full length and charges the bed in a blind rage. The Vagabond retreats under the covers...