One Paris family out of ten eats horse regularly because dark-red, sweet-tasting horsemeat costs two-thirds the price of beef. Last week 60 poor residents in the slums of Maisons-Laffitte, a swank suburb whose horsy upper-crusters include Frank J. Gould, felt agonizing gripes in their stomachs. Emergency squads with stomach pumps worked all night. Afterward the partially digested horsemeat thus obtained was analyzed by police chemists, showed traces of deadly drugs. Cracked Frank J.'s witty Manhattan secretary: "Maisons-Laffitte is known as a town of 15,000 horses and 5,000 souls."

Fast detective work traced the...

Want the full story?

Subscribe Now


Learn more about the benefits of being a TIME subscriber

If you are already a subscriber sign up — registration is free!