The Frosted Death

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The man was a perfect example of the way in which fate sometimes selects obscure persons for great historic roles.

He was certainly obscure enough. His name was John Braun, pronounced Brown. He was average in height, average in weight, average in brain power, and average in earning capacity. Mr. John Q. Public, himself. Yet fate chose him as the first one.

Braun worked on the night shift at the Laddex Rubber Co. on lower Eighth Avenue, New York City. He earned twenty-four dollars and eighty cents a week, on which he supported a wife and sister. The wife and sister were away at the time — which was very lucky, indeed, for the wife and sister.

Because the great role fate had selected for John Braun was that of victim; and if the two women had been at home with him they would have been victims, too.

The night was fairly warm. Braun was walking the mile to his apartment, instead of taking the subway. He walked with carefree stride, swinging his black tin lunchbox.

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