A woman in deep black entered the local rooms of the Charlotte News Saturday night, and, as she paused in the door, an expression of horror was seen on the faces of The News’ local staff—for behind her in the darkness of the corridor gleamed two red eyes under a white cross.
And then the Siberian Grave Robber entered the room!
Lean, gaunt and restless he seemed to be. For four weeks the gruesome looking dog had not shown himself at The News. At the moment of his last appearance, four deaths were immediately reported to The News, after which the animal retired into the gray mists of the early morning. His appearance at that time was bur one of the many mysterious visits the strange canine has made to The News during the last eight months. No one claims him. No one pets him. Not even a kindly word is spoken to him. And he retaliates with death. Never has he failed to bring news from the Grim Reaper. Because of his sinister appearance and the weird white cross on his head, the gaunt dog has been known to The News as the Siberian Grave Robber since his first cryptic visit.
The woman in black seated herself in a chair. The Siberian Grave Robber crouched at her feet. Not a sound broke the silence. It was useless to ask why the woman had come. The Siberian Grave Robber answered that.
The woman reported the death of her brother, J.M. Welch, at the Mercy hospital a few hours previous.
When she departed, the dog remained. Slowly he carried his lean body into the darkness of a corner and sat upon his haunches. His white teeth glistened with awe-inspiring hideousness.
“Another death,” whispered Mason Hood of The News staff, who had been present at the previous strange appearances of the animal.
And immediately Mrs. Randolph Thompson, 202 South Myers street, telephoned the death of her sister-in-law.
Still the animal remained sulking in the corner. A few seconds later Frank Hovis telephoned the arrival of a marine who had died in France.
As quick as a flash, the Siberian Grave Robber was on his feet. Looking neither to the left nor right, he stealthily lurched through the doorway. The dull tread of his feet faintly echoed down the dark corridor as he departed into the unknown.
The incomprehensible phenomenon has baffled all attempts at solution. Why the animal comes to The News, where he hides during the intervals that lapse between his visits, and his sinister connection with death are matters too occult to debate. Suffice it to say that, when he is hiding, weeks pass without news of a death. When he suddenly slinks into The News office, never less than three deaths are immediately reported. Reporters find it necessary to run down death news ordinarily, but the Siberian Grave Robber never fails to bring all needed information with him.
For perhaps several weeks, if conclusions may be based on former visits of the animal, no prominent deaths will occur in the city. On day or one dark night, as sure as there is a Grim Reaper, the Siberian Grave Robber will return with his gruesome message. It might be days, it might be weeks, or even months, but the red eyes under the white cross will gleam again through the doorway. The Siberian Grave Rober is certain to return.
From the front page of The Charlotte News, Sunday morning, Sept. 11, 1921
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