Stalking the Stranger [The Lost and Found: Uncovering Hidden Comic Book Treasures]

Inspector Marat abruptly halted at the closed, office door. The Chief of Detectives was waiting to see him. Beads of perspiration dotted Marat's forehead like a pox that was spreading fast. He hesitated. He didn't want to knock. He didn't want to enter the Captain's office. He didn't want to hear what the Captain had to say.

Marat fidgeted. His fingers trembled as he raised his hand to knock at the door. If the Captain wanted to take him off of the strange case of the Strangler, there was nothing Marat could do about the Captain's decision. Ten women were dead — strangled! Last night, the murderer had followed his usual M.O. When the sun another woman was lifeless and the case was still unsolved. The killer continually escaped Marat even though Marat knew the Strangler almost as well as he knew himself. He didn't know the man's name, but he knew the Strangler's thoughts, his moods, and his methods. It was as if the murderer were Marat's own shadow. He seemed to be within reach of Marat's grasp, but he
couldn't be captured! The case was a mystery to Marat and to everyone connected with it. There was no doubt that the killer was a madman; but in his madness, he was cunningly clever. He left no clues, no tracks, no evidence. As well as Marat knew the killer, the killer knew Marat. It was as if the two men shared the same brain. How could a man catch his double in flesh, soul and spirit? That was the problem! That was why the killer was still on the loose!

"Come in Marat," called the Captain from inside of his office. "Calm yourself, Inspector, and come in. I know what you're thinking. Don't worry. I haven't summoned you here to take you off of the strangler case!"  Slowly, Marat turned the door nob. Swiftly, he pushed the door open. Boldly, he stepped into the Captain'ss office. The Captain's words had given him new life, new courage, new hope. He would not be taken off the case. There was no longer any reason to be worried or fearful. 

Quickly, Marat closed the door behind him. Instantly, his eyes scanned the room. Marat was a good policeman with extraordinary powers of observation. When he spied the attractive, young, policewoman seated near the Captain's desk, he knew that the mademoiselle was going to be his partner and tempting bait for the Strangler. "I can tell by your face that you've put two and two together," said 'he Captain as he addressed his subordinate. "Yes! I know what is in your mind," replied Mara stoically. "The girl is very beautiful. The Strangler will not be able to resist her, but I'm against the scheme even though it is a cunning plot. I always work alone!"

"In the old days, I would have catered to your whim, but this is a difficult case!" answered the Captain coldly. "As closely as you've examined the clues, I too have examined them. drawn my own conclusions. You haven't been the same man ever since the night you found your lifeless wife and her dead lover in your quarters when you returned home. Their suicide pact didn't free you from the evil hold she had on you. Part of you died that night. You are not the same detective you once were. You need help to solve this case!"  Sadly, Marat nodded in agreement. The Captain was right. Finding his wife and her (over had almost turned him into a madman. For a long while, his mind had teeter-tottered on the brink of insanity. He did need help to solve the strange case of the strangler. 

Later that night, the policewoman decoy slowly sauntered through the shadowy side streets and alleys of the city while Marat watched and waited. As she passed a dark corner, it happened! The Strangler grabbed her from behind and pulled her into the shadows. She couldn't see his face, but his hands were around her neck choking the breath out of her lungs. Her vision was clouded. She couldn't even scream for help! Where was Inspector Marat?

Then, a single shot rang out and echoed through the silent streets. The hands around her neck loosened. Someone moaned behind her and a body dropped at her feet. The girl turned to see the Chief of Detectives standing behind her. In his hand was a smoking revolver. On the alleyway floor, was the lifeless body of Inspector Marat. "He was mad," explained the Captain. "He couldn't solve the case because he was chasing himself. His wife betrayed him and it made him hate all women. The ironic thing is — that Marat never guessed that he, himself, was the Strangler. He was two men -- one good, one evil! Now the strange cage of the strangler is finally solved!"

• story author uncredited
• title header illustrator uncredited
• image of Mara be attacked provided by TrUzApalOOza.
• story featured in Monster Hunters #8 (November 1976) 
• published & copyrighted by Charlton Comics

Disclaimer: As the original publisher is no longer in operation and has not issued digital reprints, this collection serves as a valuable archive of these classic tales for the benefit of researchers, scholars, and enthusiasts. By making these stories available, I aim to promote a greater understanding and appreciation of the rich cultural heritage of comic books, while also acknowledging the original creators and copyright holders.

The Vale of Desolation [The Lost and Found: Uncovering Hidden Comic Book Treasures]

We traveled only during the night. And rested during the day. We were going in a southeastern direction along the rim of the Kalaghari Desert. Major Ali Mupha came over to me as I was resting on a chair. "Mr. Winston,' he began. I have a feeling that somewhere in the past the two of us met. I will admit that the money you did offer us was a great temptation to come out here. No native would dare to make this trip. This section of the desert is known as the Vale of Desolation. For your money. I took leave from the Security Police Department. And then managed to get men who are willing to do anything for money. They are not afraid of Death. For that is a kind of occupational hazard in their work. Paul Dumont is a Frenchman; Raul Garbano is a Spaniard; Hans Klepper is a German; and Marc Harley is an Australian. They have agreed to follow you in the jaws of Hell if necessary. And also, I do assume because they are curious. Out here where all you have is wind and sand - what can you be looking for?" The time had come for me to explain the object of this small expedition. Consisting of the men he named, two jeeps, and a supply truck.

"We never met before in our lives. But I still am familiar to you. My name is John Winston. I am the identical twin of the late Herbert Randolph. If I shaved off my beard you couldn't tell us apart." "Then your mansion here must somehow be connected With the death of your late brother. But why do you have a name different than his?" "Because my maternal uncle adopted me," I informed him. "He wanted me to carry on his name. And he left his fortune to me. What I tell you now, you may or may not believe. I don't care much about it. All I care is that you take me to where I want to go. I have travelled throughout the world. I could sense any message my brother wanted to send me. And in the same way I could reply to him.  Remember, that identical twins are really one creature and in the view of the ancients they thought and acted as one being. By the death of my brother, his partner. Frank Howell inherited the entire business property and the death insurance of half million dollars."

"That means you are implying that your brother's partner killed him. Why, that is impossible!" "Why is it impossible?' I demanded. "Greed does a lot of peculiar things to any human being." "But many people saw your brother get into his plane. At that very moment, Frank Howe!l was in Cairo. The plane headed out to sea. It exploded in the air and that is how your brother died." Major Ali Mupha stopped for a minute. Looked at me. Then added, "Or did he?" "My brother's ghost communicated with me." I continued, will tell you how he died. The two went out here in a jeep loaded with supplies. My brother had an idea that he could find where the legendary Roman treasure had been hidden when the Romans were attacked and the Third Roman Legion was wiped out. He didn't want anyone to follow them, so they left secretly. He made one big mistake. He told his partner he was aware of the fact that the books had been falsified. That Frank Howell had been stealing partnership funds. So that is why he Was killed. His body was dumped out on the sand. His partner returned. The rest was easy. He hired an aviator. Had him wear a facial mask to look like my brother. Take the plane up. Blow it up and parachute to safety. Frank Howell also killed him and the man who made the mask. If we find my brother's body, and we will, then you have the evidence to convict his killer."

The next two days we traveled during the late afternoon. I knew what I was looking for. Then came the message: "l am here, John. Right here. Dig under the sand where you are standing." On the way back, the Major was very quiet. He was doing a lot of hard thinking. Then he spoke his thoughts to me. "It could be that somehow you learned where your brother had been buried. But I dismiss that. Only his killer was with him. So I am forced to accept that from beyond the grave messages be sent. Worry not. Justice will be done."

• story author uncredited
• title header illustrator uncredited
• story featured in Haunted #10 (January 1973) 
• published & copyrighted by Charlton Comics

Here is the list of characters from the short story:

1. John Winston (identical twin of Herbert Randolph),
2. Herbert Randolph (John's twin brother, deceased)
3. Frank Howell (Herbert's business partner)
4. Major Ali Mupha (leader of the mercenaries)
5. Paul Dumont (French mercenary)
6. Raul Garbano (Spanish mercenary)
7. Hans Klepper (German mercenary)
8. Marc Harley (Australian mercenary)

Disclaimer: As the original publisher is no longer in operation and has not issued digital reprints, this collection serves as a valuable archive of these classic tales for the benefit of researchers, scholars, and enthusiasts. By making these stories available, I aim to promote a greater understanding and appreciation of the rich cultural heritage of comic books, while also acknowledging the original creators and copyright holders.

The Mummy's Revenge [The Lost and Found: Uncovering Hidden Comic Book Treasures]

"BEWARE!" warned the aged Arab. "Beware the wrath of Princess Amen-Ra!"

The four Englishmen laughed uproariously. What was there to fear of an Egyptian princess who had died some 3,500 years ago?

Her mummy case, only recently excavated from the ruins of a nearby temple, lay on the ground before them, and they were determined to bring it back to London, as a souvenir of their holiday in Egypt. Ignoring the old man's repeated warnings, they paid him a handsome fee---for it was he himself who had led them to the buried mummy case---and made off with their prize.

That very night, one of the Britishers was seen to emerge from his tent. He spoke to no one; his eyes were fixed, trance-like, on the wide expanse of desert sand before him. He was like a man possessed as he wandered off. And this was the last anyone ever saw of him. Somewhere in the desert, he had vanished, and no trace of his body was ever found. His friends assumed that he must have been stricken by a fever that had affected his mind.

Yet, only a few days later, a second tragedy occurred, when another of the tourists was shot in the arm by a bandit, and the arm subsequently had to be removed. Upon returning to Cairo, a third member of the party found a cablegram awaiting him, informing that his entire fortune had been wiped out by a bank failure. And when they came back to London, still bearing the mummy case of Princess Amen-Ra, the fourth member of that ill-fated group met with the same news---business collapse which left him a pauper.

But this was still only the beginning. The long-dead princess, it seemed, was determined to avenge herself upon anyone who disturbed the tranquility of her resting place. For when the mummy case was later bought up by the British Museum, more tragedy was in the offing.

First there was the newspaper photographer who took a picture of the exotic looking case, shortly after its arrival at the museum. While en route to his home, he was fatally injured. Then there was the cleaning man, who scoffed at the notion of a haunted mummy case, and proved contempt by waving his duster at it, derisively. Some days later, his wife was stricken by a rare disease.  In addition, all sorts of minor injuries befell various museum workers who had helped set up the mummy case in its exhibit vault. Visitors to the museum began talking of strange noises emanating from the case---tapping and crying---and one night watchman went so far as to claim that the princess once emerged from the vault.

It was then that officials of the British Museum decided that these wild tales had gone far enough, and agreed to remove the case from the exhibit hall and store it in the basement. Of the men selected to carry it down, one of them suffered a badly sprained ankle, almost immediately afterwards, and another was found dead of a stroke, only a few days later.

Of course, nobody, except a handful of superstitious people, ever believed that this mummy case actually bore a curse---that the hardships it seemed to create were ever anything more than mere coincidence. Yet, fate had one more cruel trick to play, involving Princess Amen-Ra in her final tragedy.

For in 1914 an American Egyptologist purchased the mummy case from the British Museum, planning to bring it to this country. But this man, too, went to his death, together with the princess, aboard the steamship Titanic, which struck an iceberg in the mid-Atlantic, and sank with a loss of 1,500 lives!

• story author uncredited
• title header illustration created by TrUz ApalOOza
• story featured in The House of Secrets #67 (October 1957) 
• published & copyrighted by DC Comics

FACT CHECK: I did a little searching and found this article which documents the above story to be untrue, including the Titanic reference.

Disclaimer: As the original publisher is no longer in operation and has not issued digital reprints, this collection serves as a valuable archive of these classic tales for the benefit of researchers, scholars, and enthusiasts. By making these stories available, I aim to promote a greater understanding and appreciation of the rich cultural heritage of comic books, while also acknowledging the original creators and copyright holders.