A Sucker Seduced - Part IV - A Craven Danger Mystery

Jonathan T. Worthington was an old hound dog whose bark had long been laid to rest. But he still had some of his wits about him.

Back in livelier times, Mr. Worthington liked his escapades in the bedroom to be filmed. To the extent that in 1925 he hired a full-time cameraman to station himself in an adjoining room and crank away through a strategically placed two-way mirror.

Mr. Worthington would eventually get with the times and purchase an automated movie camera, but by that time his flicker had dimmed somewhat and the camera was left to collect dust and had long ago been forgotten. That is, until Miss Suzy Tanner, his new part-time nurse and occasional secretary, went searching for some blankets and stumbled upon the old camera room.

Miss Tanner became fascinated with it. But it wasn’t the camera that caught her attention at first. It was the projector and the row after row of film cannisters lining the back wall.

Five minutes into the first reel Miss Tanner lifted her jaw off the floor and ran from the room. She didn’t return until the next morning, finding the projector still running. The finished reel snap, snap, snapping around the spindle.

In that first five minutes she had seen a well-known silent screen actor from an earlier era and two women in flapper dresses of the period, lose their clothes and climb into bed with Mr. Worthington and--.

Well, Miss Tanner never got that far. She was too busy running.

When she did return, she put the film back in the cannister and tried to forget about it. The past was the past. But as she sat there trying to shake the image of Mr. Worthington welcoming all those body parts into his bed she knew she had to do something with the cannister’s before they were discovered by Mr. Worthington’s greedy grandson or anyone else who would stoop to blackmailing an old man for his money.

I’ll have to sneak them out of the house one at a time, thought Miss Tanner. Goodness knows what, or who, is on those other reels. I don’t want to know. And I don’t want anyone else to know, either.

***

Jonathan T. Worthington shielded his eyes from the sun and watched as a determined young woman hopped out of a taxi and headed his way. Taking long, hurried strides across his front lawn.

The aged financier was lounging on the patio of his Bronxville estate soaking up some much needed sun. And feeling what he thought was a long lost yearning.

Well, what do we have here? though Mr. Worthington. Why, back in my day I’d of had her for sure.

“Are you Mr. Worhington?” said the young woman.

“I am,” said the old gentleman. ”And who might you be?”

“I’m Betty Fletcher,” said the young woman. “And I’ve come ta talk about a certain floozy of yours."

"Oh," said Mr. Worthington. "I didn't know I still had one of those."