The Exeter Times-Advocate, 1939-08-03, Page 6THVBSUAY, AUGUST 3, 1930 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE
I ‘Murder at Pirates Head’ j
By Isabel Waitt
The Guest ListStarting this Week
CHAPTER 1
PIRATE’S HEAD always reminds
me of a Summer squash. It's long
neck juts out of Rockville, Mass.,
into the wild Atlantic. Onve accord
ing to legend, this rocky promontory
was the lockout for buccaneers, who
hid their treasure in a deer fissure
called the Pirate’s Mouth. Just tne
mention of that slippery shelf in the
foamy sea makes my flesh creep.
It began to creep the day I re
ceived a queer fat letter, the first
week of my visit at the inn. How
would you feel to receive a missive
from an unknown, containing forty
old twenty-dollar bills.
Postmark Boston. Date blurred.
Penmanship, sprawly, as if an at
tempt had been made to disguise it.
Spelling, excellent. Astonished, I
read:
The old Quaker church should
go for a song at the auction.
Please bid for one who doesn’t
wish to be known in the trans-
' (action. Sentimental reason.
In return, you may use it for
tearoom, or lending library,
rent free.
Please don’t tell a soul, but buy
. a.t any cost. If not enough, will
. reimburse. If too much, keep the
difference and oblige.
A FRIEND
.You could have knocked me over
With a butterfly’s antenna. Nobody
knew' I was Summering at the inn.
As for the auction of the homely
little Quaker church, scheduled for
July 3rd, the following day, I’d plan
ned to go just for fun. Everybody
at the Head would be there to take a
whack at buying that desolate, long-
unused place of worship, standing
like a wart on the bluff. But wmuld
the early Quakers if they knew what
I know now!
That odd letter, though I didn’t
realize it at the time, -was my first
clue in the series of dreadful things
which were to occur. Thrilled to
death at the mystery, and speculat
ing as to my unguessed correspond
ent, I pinned the bills into a girl’s
first national bank and tucked the
missive itself under the lining of my
top bureau drawer.
Maybe this vacation wasn’t going
to be so dull, after all! I’d visiteo
my Aunt Nellie before, and found it
deadly. But then she’d never had
any murders to offer. I’ll say this for
murder — it’s never dull.
The Inn.
Aunt Nella runs the inn at Pir
ate’s Head, the only one there, in
a way it was a comedown for her to
open her lovely old Colonial home to
paying guests. For more than 150
years it had sheltered the Gerry fam
ily in decent privacy. They might
have been comfortably off, except for
the failure of the Lane bank. This
crippled Uncle Hydie, Aunt Nella’s
husband worse than his rheumatism.
Old man Lane put a bullet through
his head when his pet went into re
ceivership, dragging down all his
neighbors, but Aunt Nella went to
making bueberry pies.
• That’s where I came in. She
wheedled me into being hostess and
general factotum, greeting the tour
ists and answering the phone -while
her hands were in the dough as she
put it, “You’ll have a nice change,’'
she said. “The Head is always so
qiti'et and peaceful.” Lordy.
Well, a girl has to think of her
cheese-on-rye. Here I’d graduated!
from Teachers College to find two I
schoolmarms waiting for every pupil.
My funds were minus X. and I’m
without near relatives, my parents
both having died in a plane crash.
Even Aunt Nella was only a play
aunt, who has been my mother’s dear
friend.
So I grabbed at the chance to rest
at the inn. The suggestive skull-
and-cross-bones pennant flying from
a staff over the, front door was my
idea. Little did I dream it would
soon fly over the front page of every
newspaper in the country!
Diarrhoea
Dysentery
If you are suddenly attacked with
diarrhoea, dysentery, colic, cramps or
pains in the stomach or bowels, or
any looseness of the bowels do not
waste valuable time, but at once pro
cure a bottle of Dr. Fowler’s Ex
tract of Wild Strawberry and see
how quickly it will give you relief.
When you use nDr, Fowler’s”
you are not experimenting with some
new and untried remedy, but one
that has stood the test of time; one
that has been oh the market for the
past 94 years. Beware of substi
tutes; They may he dangerous to
your health.
Get <£Dr. Fowler’s” and feel safe.
tTha T. Milburn Od., Ltd.. Toronto, Ont.
We had only a few guests the first
of July. Nice people, all of them,
a; patently, hut merely names to me.
The Rev. James De Witt, Miss Lily
Kendall, Hugh Norcross and his sis
ter, Bessie; Mr. Thaddeus Quincy and
Mr. Potter. Just names and toothy
good mornings. The house staff con
sisted of Uncle Wylie, Aunt Nella
and myself, A town girl came in to
wash dishes, but she lived out and
had nothing to do with the things
that happened,
You can wager I didn’t mention
my letter to a soul, as per instruc
tions. Visions of tearooms danced
in my head. I’m going to skip the
auction here, except to say that I
bid for the old church and got it for
$300. I still had $500 of somebody’s
mpney!
It seemed to me everybody from
Rockville, let alone the Head, was
there. Certainly the entire inn was
present. I listened hard to see -who
didn’t bid. Blessed if every one or
our guests didn’t! I mean, did.
Along with the squat old building
came sturdy, hard benches for seat
ing 125 people, a few dilapidated
hymn books, and down in the base
ment the most wonderful sea chest
you ever saw. Cedar. “There’s my
hope chest,” I gloated. “A little pol
ish and a lot of elbow grease—!”
The thing -was locked -when I exam
ined it after the sale. I was prying it
with a bobby pin when Uncle Wyile
and Aunt Nella wanted me right
away back at the inn. All she real
ly wanted, I soon found out, was to
learn how' and why I’d bought the
church. Difficult afternoon. I’m no
good at evading questions and she
w'as bursting with curiosity.
Not until evening did I escape.
Then I discovered Mr. Quincy out on
the porch sitting patiently in his
wheel-chair as usual. I liked Thad
deus Quincy, perhaps because he re
fused to use his infirmity as a topic
of conversation. Though about 66,
w'izened and always alone, still when
ever he was included he was the life
of the party. Just then he looked
dejected enough, amusing himself by
strumming on the piazza rails w'Itn
the Nalacca cane he always had
handy.
“Want me to take you for a ride?”
I asked. “My. the fog is creeping in.”
“Woud you, Judy? Just dowm the
ramp Then I can manage for my
self.” He called me' Judy since the
first day, and I liked it, from him.
To the others I wras Miss Jason.
“How-’d you like to see the inside
of a church?” I asked. I held my
breath while we made the planks
Uncle Wylie had put over the steps
of the porch for this wheel-chair.
“Saw’ all I wanted to this after
noon at the auction,” he answered.
“Yes. From the outside. Shouted
your bid through the door. Only
made one bid. Why?” I asked.
“Wanted to get it cheap. Think
I’d bid against you? 'What do you
w'ant of that old eyesore?”
“WTait till I get it fixed up. Tea
and crumpets. My, it’s getting fog
gy! Left my handbag down In the
basement. Taking you down while
I get it. Guess how much money 1
have left?” I queried.
He eluded my little trap, but ap
peared grateful for the companion
shir. “How’ shoud I know' what
scads you make at the inn? Tell me
something about the Lane castle.-
He pointed at the great stone man
sion that loomed up1 ahead of us, be
yond the inn but tortile left of the
Quaker church, knowm to Pirate
Headers as the castle. Hideously
ornate it was, by daylight, with too
many turrets. It had been vacant for
years.
“Not much to tell.” I replied.
“Been closed since Mr. Lane com
mitted suicide three years ago. There
was a nasty scandal hushed up, im
plicating son Roddy—Roddy Jr..—
whom you saw at the inn last night.
He lives out west and never’s came
back here since. His mother went
bats on account of his escapades, they
say, and leaped into the ocean from
one of those towers. No wonder the
old man shot himself.i
Fleeting Shadow
“Nice family,” Mr. Quincy said.
“Who’s that?” A figure scuttled
• ahead of us, across our path to the
5 Lane driveway. Believing it to be one
I of our guests, I called good evening.
! There was no response. I had thought
! the shadow a woman until Mr, Q.
said: "Sociable fellow’ ,” He received
the bump from the hubbed path un
complainingly. “Somebody’s in an
awful hurry. Suppose it was Lane?
No light in the castle.”
Oh, I doubt if it was Roddy. Af
ter the reception he got last night?
Bet he. left town. Didn't show Up
l'or breakfast at the inn, as ordered.
We were passing the old fich hut,
from the cracks of whose single win
dow a feeble light shone, Mr. Quin
cy was all curiosity. Had I seen the
old man who was staying there, he
wanted to know.
“No and nobody else.,” I said.
"Only Uncle Wylie, and he at a dis-
tam-e. when Mr. Brown was fishing
aft the rocks earlier in the season.
Sort of a recluse, I guess. Stone deaf.
Uses an ear trumpet, funny old-fash
ioned kind, Uncle Wylie says. Some
fishermen used to dry their cod in
this shed, but they say it was used
for other purposes during prohibi
tion. All Aunt Nella could find out
w’as that the man was old and bent,
and his name was Brown. Uncle Wy
lie say the shack spoils the view’
from the inn. Every day he threat
ens to burn it down.”
Not a star to guide us. It was all
I could do to keep on the path, but
finally we reached the church, which
faced the ocean.
“Got a match? I won’t be a jif.
Left my bag at the auction and have
got to get a key out—•”
“That you, Judy Mason?” Up rose
a behemoth of darkness. As w'e rec
ognized the voice of Miss Kendall,
one of guests, she became conscious
of the wheelchair. “Why, if it ain’t
Mr. Quincy!” She gave the C and S
sound instead of the correct Z. ‘Been
w’atching the sunset. Must of drop
ped off. Leinrne push you back? Oh,
I get it! Two’s company.” For once
the kittenish Lily w’asn’t going to
butt in.
As she moved away chuckling. I
heard Mr. Quincy breathe, “Te Deum
Laudamus!” Poor Lily Kendall—
corpulent, gabby, good natured, lov
able, 40-odd, forever tw'isting her
countless string of pearls till tney
spilled all over the house,and heav
ens-—what a pest. She’s seen mighty
little of a sunset in all that gather
ing mist.
The Church Basement
Once the door w’as open, I struck
one of two matches Mr. Q. had given
me and hurried dowm the aisle of
the musty auditorium. Wrong word
for this little meeting place, but
never mind. The flame went out, anG
for a moment I stood hesitant, lis
tening to the ghostly lashing of the
waves on the rocks. But I’d promis
ed Bessie Norcross, our fussiest
guest, a key for her door, having
swiped key from Albian Potter, out
artist boarder. His key fitted Bes
sie’s room, too, and he never both
ered to close his door, let alone lock
it. He’d probably never miss it. I’d
stuck it in my handbag, having in
tended to go to Rockville and have
a duplicate made. The bag must have
been left in the basement near my
new’ hope chest when Uncle Wylie
called me away. I wish some one
would invent a handbag that a wo
man couldn’t lose!
The basement stairs, very narrow’
and steep, led from a door at the side
of the front platform, the church be
ing built back-to, in a way. I didn’t
want any more complaints. I had'
promised Bessie she’d have her key.
I didn’t want to break my neck ei
ther. I groped down a step or two,
clinging to the stone wall. Then I
decided it wras too precarious. The
other match should last until I snat
ched the bag and started back, so I
struck it.
The damp chill of that black little
cellar penetrated by thin blue voile.
Shivering, I hurried as best I could
There w'eren’t many steps. The
church had literally been built on a
rock, so the floor was uneven, one
end having a patch of dirt floor.
A strong breeze come from some
where.
I remembered the chest was against
the wall abutting the sea. I could
reach it more easily by taking the
he path around the cliff to the tiny
basement door, but I knew’ that
would be locked from the inside. I
had told Uncle Wylie to lock up when
he’d summoned me. He’d said he had
and hung the entrance key where 1
had just found it. He was absent
minded. but in emergency could be
relied upon. Yet holding that tiny
flame I could see that the basement
door was open a crack and was
wider—wider!
Would the match last till I closed
the door, locked it and found my
bag? I measured the distance with
my eye, approaching the while, and
kicking at the door as I passed. From
the darkness something twinkled at
me. Was it a firefly? Another step.
I held the flickering match closer.
It couldn’t be! I was seeing things.
A final spurt and the glow faded,
burning my fingers. Automatically I
dropped the match. The pain brought
action.
“You mustn’t faint! You mustn’t
faint!” I kept telling myself. In utter
darkness, with the moan of the sea
and the creak of the door that would
not stay closed unless locked, I stag
gered for the stairs. Nothing on
earth would have made me take the
cliff path. It’s mighty lucky I didn’t
as things eventuated.
Finally I found the stairs, missed
a. step and stumbled. Down, down,
down I rolled to the bottom. Every
second I expected some one to reach
out and grab me. I scrambled to
my feet, more careful this time, but
sobbing till I made the main floor.
Now the room seemed enormous. Was
whoever was responible for what I’d
seen beolw hiding behind one of
those high wooden pews?
What She Saw
My skin prickled. The middle aisle
—the door! I stumbled ahead, strain
ing my eyes at the shadows. It was
n’t a firefly I’d seen by the flickering
match. From beneath the cover of
the sea chest a dead white hand had
protruded, and on it a huge square
cut diamond had winked at me. I'd
admired it—was it only yesterday
Somebody was screaming terribly.
Below a door banged. Blindly 1
bumped into a human being near
the entrance,
“Judy! Stop screaming! What’s
the matter, child?”
Thaddeus Quincy! In relief I grab
bed at and nearly threw him. Not
till afterwards, in the safety of my
own room, did I pause to wonder
how he’d ever managed to reach the
spot where he stood unaided.
“Quick!” I cried. “He’s after us!”
‘Who’s after who. What are you
talking about?”
I yanked at his arm, my one
thought to get out of the church into
the open. I’m ashamed to say I rac
ed past him and let him find his way
alone. It took him some time, to
reach me, cowering by the outer
door, while he sidled and minced
and clung to the building for* sup
port. I helped him into his chair.
“Now then,” he yanted. “Who’s
after us?”
“The murderer. I—I heard it
squeak.”
“Are you crazy?”
“The door, I mean. When he ran
out of the cellar. After he killed
Roddy Lane!”
CHAPTER TWO
We headed toward the inn, and all
the while Mr. Qunicy was trying to
get a coherent story out of me.
“Are you sure the hand was Rod
dy Lane’s!”
“Positively. Who else wears such a
big square diamond? Noticed it yes
terday. The sun made it wink just as
it did tonight.”
“He had it coming to him!” You’d’
have thought Roddy was Public En
emy No. 1 from Mr. Q. stone.
We were abreast of the old fish
er. house, where the light still gleam
ed dimly. I stopped, panting.
“He wouldn’t have a telephone,
would he, Judy?” His cane pointed
toward Brown’s.
“Doubt it. Deaf the way he is.
We’d better keep on to the inn.” It
was uphill work and I was all out
of breath from fright and hurrying
so.
“Well, take it easy. Rest a bit,”
Mr. Q. said. Or maybe you’d better
run along alone. Leave me here.”
“Nothing doing!” I began to push
again. Later I was to wish we’d
stopped to break the news to Old
Man Brown. But now we struggled
on without speaking, though Mr. Q.
reiterated. “Lane certainly had it
coming to him." And I knew we
were both thinking of the same
thing — the scene at the inn the ev
ening before.
In a flash I could see our guests
seated at the tables. I was helping
our little high schooler serve, and
wondering which, if one of them, had
sent me the $800. “Cold Iamb or
broiled mackerel?”
(To be Continued)
Kippen East W. I.
The Kippen East W. I. met at the
home of Mrs. Wm. Bell on Thursday
evening, July Both, with a good at
tendance. With the president presid
ing, the meeting was opened by all
singing the Institute Ode and re
peating the Lord’s Prayer. The Bible
reading by Mrs. I). Chappell was fol
lowed by the story of the farm, read
by Mrs. Bell, and Mrs. Wm. McLean
read the story of the Wm. McGregor
farm. Misses Iva Leary and Laura
Dinnen sang and played a guitar ac
companiment.
Mr.’S. Whitmore, Reeve of Tucker
smith, was the speaker for the even
ing and gave a good description of
the past and present work of the
township council.
The report of the meeting of the
District Annual held at Kippen on
June 6th, was given by the district
representative, Mrs. H. Caldwell.
Mrs. Jas. Smillie then' read a short
poem entitled. “Just a Married Wo
man.” The motto. “Patriotism is not
Enough,” given by Mrs. H. 'Caldwell
was very interesting and ably dealt
with. Current events by Miss Laura
Tremeer and a salad demonstration
by Mrs. Glen McLean were both in
teresting items o fthe program. Miss
es Leary and Dinnen gave another
musical number which was much en
joyed. The roll call was well re
sponded to by the name of a former
Reeve. •
A vote of thanks to Mrs. Bell and
Mr. Whitmore and others taking
part in the program and the singing
of the National Anthem closed the,
meeting. A splendid lunch was j
served by the committee and a social r
time was spent. I
“Mrs. Jones,” said the annoyed
woman to her neighbor, “I make no |
complaint about your Alf copying
my Percy’s sums at school, but I do
think it’s time to say something
when your boy starts ’Itting my boy
when the answers ain’t right,”
A, B, C’s of Advertising
Authoritatively analyzed appeal,
ably and appropriately arranged, at
tracts attention.
Bombastic blarney, boastful brag
gadocio, bizarre blandishments, bab
bling banter, bespeak banality. Bril
liant brevity, becomingly beautified,
begets belief, brings better business,
builds bigger bank balances.
Careless construction causes cal
amity. Cautious craftsmen create
carefully composed copy. Color
characteristically conceived, captures
casual crowds. Candoi’ carries con
viction, conveys clear conception
creates confidence, commands co-ef-
ficient co-ordination - CLOSES.
Dependable dealer distribution de
mands distinctively dominant display
Decorative detail, denoting dignity,
develops desideratum.
Extravagant embellishment, exag
gerated expression, excessive exploi
tation, engenders enmity, Education
al evidence, earnestly expressed, es-'
tablishes esteem.
Fluent, fluffy folderol, flagrantly
fallacious, foretells failure. Feasible
facts, fascinatingdy featured, foster
familiarity, further fidelity, fashion
favorabe friendships.
Glittering generalities
grief. Genuine genius,
garbed, generates good-will.
.Hackneyed harangue hinders. Hon
esty hastens habit.
We will print further “A B C’s of
Advetrising” in our next issue. Re
read the foregoing eight paragrapns.
Doctor : “You must avoid all
forms of excitement."
Male patient: “But doctor—can’t
I even look at them on the street?”
—Log
o—o—o
“What do you think is the trouble
with farming?”
“Well,” replied Farmer Bentover,
“in my day when we talked about
what we could raise on sixty acres,
we meant corn — not loans.
its agin the law
to use a gun . . ...
The best way to HUNT
CUSTOMERS is to use
THE TIMES-ADVOCATE
It wouldn’t do to take a gun to go out for customers.
Hunting customers requires a clever technique, but some
business men are blind in their search for more business.
They arc blind to the fact that advertising is good
business. The investment in space in the columns of
The Times-Advocate is an investment which will return
quickly and many times over in an increased sales vol
ume.
Form the habit of keeping the news of your business
befor the public through The Times-Advocate. Our
readers are quick to take advantage of shopping oppor
tunities. Your business will increase and more trading
will be done at home by the shoppers.
It is more convenient to trade at home - - -
Readers of the home-town paper patronize our
advertisers. You don’t need a license to adver
tise. Just phone us. We’ll be glad to help you
solve your advertising problems.
Exeter Times-Advocate
EXETER PHONE 31w
Quidnunc
There are 30,386,643 non-Chris-
tian people in North America; also,
75,000,000 Protestants; 40,000,000
Roman Catholics and 1,000,000 Or
thodox Catholics — a total of 11G,-
000,000 Christians.
Caracas, the capital of Venezuela,
is one of the most beautiful cities in
South America. The popuation of
the city proped is more than 150,-
Oou. It is connected with La Quail's
the nearest seaport (just sevn miles
distant by air line) by a railroad
23 miles long and one of the finest
motor roads in the world, 25 miles
long. Caracas is slightly more than
2,500 feet above sea level. The alti
tude gives the city a more tempor-
ate climate than found at sea level.
While the Negro vote in the Unit
ed States is traditionally Republican
it is estimated that 60 per cent, of
the negro vote was democratic in
1932
1936.
this grew to 80 percent, in
Forecasters predict that n
a national election were held in 193 9
the percentage would be Demoncra-
1 tic, 62 percent.; Republican 31 per-
■ eent.; Socialist, 7 percent.
. | The combined hospital facilities of
germinate ■ the City of New York is 20,000 beds,
gaudlessly i In one year, there were 340,168 pa-
1 tients.
Two of the speediest passenger
(elevators (lifts) in the world are in
the RCA building, New York City.
They travel at the rate of 1,400 ft.
a minute.
The average family has their radio
turned on about five hours a day —
according to a nation survey .cover
ing more than twenty million indi
viduals and more than four million
different radios.
It has been estimated that one In
every four persons divorced in the
United States marry again in less
than one year, nearly one-third are
married again in two years and four
out of five marry in five years.
Alaska, Hawaii, Philippine Islands
and Puerto Rico are each represented
in the Congress of the United States
by one Delegate or Resident Com
missioner.
We join the many Zurich friends
of Mr. and Mrs. John Gallman, of
Pigeon, Mich., an.d former residents
of Zurich. On July 20th Mr. Gallman
celebrated his 90tli birthady and on
July 27th they will celebrate their
65 th wedding anniversary. This
grand old couple are enjoying mar
velous good health for their age, and
have good facilities, read the paper
daily and fully enjoy the blessings
bestowed on them by Providence.—
Zurich Herald.
W Exeter Qffmra-Abiijjcatr
Established 1873 and 1887
at Exeter, Ontario
Published every Thursday moraim?
SUBSCRIPTION-—$2.00 per year in
advanceRATES-—Farm or Real Estate for
sale 50c. each insertion for tlrBt
four insertions. 25c. each subse
quent insertion. Miscellaneous articles, To Rent, Wanted, Lost, or
Found 10c, per line of six words,
Reading, notices 10c. per line.
Card of Thanks 50c. Legal ad
vertising 12 and 8c. per line. Ii
Memoriain, with one verse 50c.
extra verses 25c. each.
Member of The Canadian Weekly
Newspaper Association
Professional Cards
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Money to Loan, Investments Made
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Safe-deposit Vaults for use of our
Clients without charge
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EXETER, ONT.
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DENTIST
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EXETER, ONT.
dosed Wednesday Afternoon*
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Office opposite the Post Office,
Main Street, Exeter
Office 36w Telephones Res. 38j
Closed Wednesday Afternoons
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LICENSED AUCTIONEER >
For Huron and Middlesex
FARM SALES A SPPiGT AT/py
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Phone 57-13 Dashwood
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For Huron and Middlesex
FARM SALES A SPECIALTY
Prices Reasonable and Satisfaction
Guaranteed
EXETER p. O. or RING 138
USBORNE & HIBBERT MUTUAL
FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY
Head Office, Exeter, Ont.
President ........... JOHN HACKNEY
Kirkton, R. R. 1
Vice-President .... JOHN McGRATH
Dublin, Ont.
DIRECTORS
W.. H.. COATES .................. Exeter
ANGUS SINCLAIR ... Mifbhell, R. 1
WM. HAMILTON ... Cromarty, R. 1
T. BALLANTYNE ... Woodham, R. 1
AGENTS
JOHN ESSERY ------------ Centralia
ALVIN L. HARRIS ... Mitchell R. 1
THOS. SCOTT .................. Cromarty
SECRETARY-TREASURER
B. W. F. BEAVERS .............. Exeter
GLADMAN & STANBURY
Solicitors, Exeter
Lumber Shingles
Our Prices are the Lowest they
have been for several years.
If you ate building it will pay
you to call and get prices.
Just think Matched Lumber at
$35.00 per M. feet -
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Phone 12 Granton
We Deliver
DEAD LIVESTOCK
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Phone Exeter 235, Collect
DAY OR NIGHT
SEVEN DAYS A WEEK
Our drivers are equipped to
shoot Old or cripplod animals
DARLING
and Cd. of Canada, Ltd.
CHATHAM, ONT.