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New York City, December 11, 1921.

A silencer on her pistol, a mysterious woman of veiled identity, shot to death, Dr. Abraham L. Glickstein,

in his offices at 335 Bedford Avenue at 5.30 yesterday afternoon, then calmly walked out

through the hall of the house and disappeared around the corner of Ross Street.

Although the waiting room of the doctor's office contained a dozen persons at the time of the murder,

not one of them heard a shot, and there was not one who knew anything was amiss

until Dr. Glickstein himself opened the folding door separating the waiting room from the

consultation room, cried once for help, then dropped to the floor dead, the blood streaming

from its mouth.

Miss Bertie Gervitz said that the front door of Glickstein's office was never locked. Callers walked in.

Dr. Glickstein was on the point of showing her and her friend into his consultation room

when he turned on the threshold.

He saw the woman with the fur stole, which she carried like a muff.

He walked over to her, shook hands, and spoke to the stranger

as follows. Hello, when did you get back? This morning. How are you feeling now? Much better.

The doctor said, come right in.

I've only got to speak to these two young ladies a minute.

No, I want to see you alone.

Well, come right in. I have another room here.

An emotion to an operating room at the back of the house which had joined the consultation room. No, I want to see you alone, the strange woman said.

Once again Dr. Glickstein repeated his invitation, and once again she refused.

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