The Black Hand

There is a little band of men around this university engaged in a sinister occupation. We don't know who they are yet, but take it from us, they're out to get us all.

All it's a devilishly clever plot. Posing as maintenance men, they are hatching schemes to frazzle nerves, and prevent undergraduates from getting their rightful hours of sleep. Their purpose is clear--to turn brother against brother, friend against friend, mankind against itself, to produce a reign of terror of REVOLUTIONARY PROPORTIONS.

At first it seemed simply to be a few isolated cases of thoughtlessness by real University maintenance men. But a brief investigation has turned up such a staggering weight of evidence that we can no longer strain coincidence for an explanation.

Let us took at the facts. One month age, a "workman" started cutting the grass in the Eliot House courtyard at 8:15 a.m. setting up such a cacophony with his electric mower that further sleep was impossible. One week later at the very same hour, he was back with an electric leaf raker, with the same result. Seven days after that he was copping ice, not steadily and rhythmically so that one could get used to it, bur irregularly. Success in this third plot was so overwhelming that he came back the following week and REPEATED THE PERFORMANCE.

In the meantime, the evidence has poured in from the rest of the College, innumerable instances of little men coming in through the fire door and students who have waked up to find their shades taken down whilst they slept and later replaced in an equally mysterious manner. Once a man in Leverett House walked into his room to find two total strangers sitting on his sofa smoking. Seeing him, they rose and left silently. Another soul woke up to find his bed being moved into the center of the room by two burly strangers. The two them looked briefly out the window and left without a word.

People who live on the first floor consistently complain that men dressed in painters uniforms are watching them. When they look around, the "painters" glance quickly away, but the victims are sure that as soon as they go about their business, the "painters" start watching again.

Who known where they will strike next? Even now, privacy in the College rooms is an outworn concept. Eventually when you come home, the little men won't leave. They will stay there 4 hours a day, sleep in your beds and use up your toothpaste. Then the revolution will be at hand, and human rights, will disappear in the wake of bloody violence.

BRING IN THE PINKERTON MEN, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE--NOW--WHILE THERE IS STILL TIME.