I want more just to be sure!
One blustery night in 1917, Ester Hallio and another Finnish student, alone in a house in Helsinki, heard a clicking noise, and found two large overcoat buttons on the parquet floor. These were followed by falling coins every few minutes. Neighbours were brought in to witness further falls. These included Professor Arvi Grotenfeldt, a member of the Society of Sciences, who compiled a report of the incident. More than 10 marks was collected. Other unexplained falls of metallic objects have been reported at: Wellington, New Zealand, in March 1963 (pennies and stones bombarded a lodging house - ultimately watched by 600 people - for three days); Ramsgate, Kent, in 1968 (40 to 50 pennies in 15 minutes); and Galax, Virginia on 12 to 14 July 1978 (400 nails in three days).
Farmer Heino Seppi was collecting cut timber from the woods of Yrijo Kanto in the Palloneva region of western Finland in October 1969. Splitting an aspen log, he found its middle rotten, forming a hollow that contained a dried fish about 40cm long, resembling a perch. There was no clue as to how the fish got there.
Upon the evening of March 9, 1929 -- see the New York Times, March 10 and 11, 1929 -- Isidor Fink, of 4 East 132nd Street, New York City, was ironing something. He was the proprietor of the Fifth Avenue Laundry. A hot iron was on the gas stove. Because of the hold-ups that were of such frequent occurrence at the time, he was afraid; the windows of his room were closed, and the door was bolted.
A woman, who heard screams, and sounds as if of blows, but no sound of shots, notified the police. Policeman Albert Kattenborn went to the place, but was unable to get in. He lifted a boy through the transom. The boy unbolted the door. On the floor lay Fink, two bullet wounds in his chest, and one in his left wrist, which was powder-marked. He was dead. There was money in his pockets, and the cash register had not been touched. No weapon was found. The man had died instantly, or almost instantly.
There was a theory that the murderer had crawled through the transom. A hinge on the transom was broken, but there was no statement, as to the look of this break, as indicating recency, or not. The transom was so narrow that Policeman Kattenborn had to lift a boy through it. It would have to be thought that, having sneaked noiselessly through this transom, the murderer then, with much difficulty, left the room the same way, instead of simply unbolting the door. It might be thought that the murderer had climbed up, outside, and had fired through the transom. But Fink's wrist was powder-burned, indicating that he had not been fired at from a distance. More than two years later, Police Commissioner Mulrooney, in a radio-talk, called this murder, in a closed room, an "insoluble mystery."
Farmer Heino Seppi was collecting cut timber from the woods of Yrijo Kanto in the Palloneva region of western Finland in October 1969. Splitting an aspen log, he found its middle rotten, forming a hollow that contained a dried fish about 40cm long, resembling a perch. There was no clue as to how the fish got there.
Upon the evening of March 9, 1929 -- see the New York Times, March 10 and 11, 1929 -- Isidor Fink, of 4 East 132nd Street, New York City, was ironing something. He was the proprietor of the Fifth Avenue Laundry. A hot iron was on the gas stove. Because of the hold-ups that were of such frequent occurrence at the time, he was afraid; the windows of his room were closed, and the door was bolted.
A woman, who heard screams, and sounds as if of blows, but no sound of shots, notified the police. Policeman Albert Kattenborn went to the place, but was unable to get in. He lifted a boy through the transom. The boy unbolted the door. On the floor lay Fink, two bullet wounds in his chest, and one in his left wrist, which was powder-marked. He was dead. There was money in his pockets, and the cash register had not been touched. No weapon was found. The man had died instantly, or almost instantly.
There was a theory that the murderer had crawled through the transom. A hinge on the transom was broken, but there was no statement, as to the look of this break, as indicating recency, or not. The transom was so narrow that Policeman Kattenborn had to lift a boy through it. It would have to be thought that, having sneaked noiselessly through this transom, the murderer then, with much difficulty, left the room the same way, instead of simply unbolting the door. It might be thought that the murderer had climbed up, outside, and had fired through the transom. But Fink's wrist was powder-burned, indicating that he had not been fired at from a distance. More than two years later, Police Commissioner Mulrooney, in a radio-talk, called this murder, in a closed room, an "insoluble mystery."