John Casey, night watchman for the Chicago Protective Agency, while
“walking his beat” one night recently, entered a dark passageway in West
Madison Street; and then, all at once—
“Something flew at me from the darkness,” he said later, “and knocked
my cap off and began scratching my face and clawing out my hair by the
roots. I made a pass at it, but found I was fanning the air. Then I
saw two blazing eyes, and struck at them. Before I could get out my
gun the monster jumped on me again. I managed to swing on it with my
night-stick—and that ended the fight.”
To substantiate his story, Watchman Casey exhibited a dead owl measuring
thirty-six inches from tip to tip, also numerous cuts and bruises on his
hands and face.
_A Powerful Novel of Sinister Madmen That Mounts To An Astounding Climax_