Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 23, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 June 1923 — Page 8

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THE GREAT ELUSION IS JjP BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM X * Copyright, 1922, by E. Phillips Oppenheim Arrgt. NEA Bervlce. Inc IP

BEGIN HERE TODAY Vendetta begins between MICHAEL SAYERS, noted criminal, andSIR NORMAN GRETES. once of Scot, land Yard, when Sayers' beautiful housemaid. JANET, saves him from Sir Norman by shooting: dead an officer sent to arrest him Sir Norman falls in love with Janet and marries her. Michael rescues Lord Kindersley and hi 9 daughter, Beatrice, when their auto runs wild. Beatrice and Sayers are in love. Michael and his band of robbers break into Kindersley Court and rob the gueet* Beatrice is told by Sayers to keep her jewelry and later he personally returns Janet's jewels. Michael arrange* to publish a fake obituary. Greyes discovers Michael's hiding place and a game of golf is played with Michael’s freedom as the stake. NOW GO OX WITH STORY Janet Continues: SO the match started. The first hole was halved In four, and from then onward commenced a struggle which I can hardly think of, even now, without a shiver of excitement. Neither was ever more than two up; but toward the sixteenth hole, I began to realize that another factor besides skill was at work. Norman topped his second shot but jumped the bunker and lay upon the green. Michael carried the bunker with a perfectly played mashie shot, but pitched upon a mowing machine and came back to an almost unplayable place in the long grass. He lost the hole. Norman, who was as nearly nervous as I have ever seen him, muttered something about bad luck, but his adversary only shrugged his shoulders.

I WAVED MY HAND IX FUTILE FAREWELL. BUT MICHAEL SAYERS NEVER ONCE TURNED BACK. At the seventeenth hole Norman drc re fairly well but was still sixty yards short of the green. It was the old Michael who took his stand afterward on the tee, hard and dogged. I aaw his teeth gleam for a moment, and the whitening of the flesh around his knuckles as he gripped his club fiercely. He hit the most wonderful drive I have ever seen, long and low and straight. It carried on and on, while we watched it breathlessly. Finally It ran onto the green and ended with a couple of clubs' length of the hole. I gave a little gasp of relief, for from the first I had prayed that my husband might lose. But I had reckoned without that unseen force. Norman topped his mashie shot, which bumped along the ground onto the green passed Michael's hall, and to my horror, dropped Into the hole. Even Norman himself seemed to have no words. He stood looking at the spot

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where his ball had disappeared, his face averted from his opponent. Michael made no remark. He studied his putt long and carefully, hit it with a musical little click, and we all watched it run .straight for the hole. A£ the last moment some trifling irregularity of surface seemed to deflect it; it caught the corner of the hole, swung round inside and came out again. It rested on the very edge, and we stood there waiting. Nothing, however, happened. Michael turned away, and I fancied that I saw a little quiver upon his lips. ♦ • • At the eighteenth, a strong wind was against them. Norman, pulling a little, escaped the bunkers; but Michael, hitting a far better ball, carried them with a few yards to spare. Norman played a hne second and reached the green four on five yards from the hole. When Michael reached his ball I saw him stop and look at it. His servant gave an exclamation. It w'as lying where a huge clod of earth had been knocked away by some beginner and never replaced, without a blade of grass around It, and on a downward slope. I looked across toward my husband. “It isn’t fair,” I whispered hoarsely. “Move It with your foot. Norman can’t see. Besides, I’m irn the way." Michael, who was choomng a club, just glanced up at me for a moment, and I felt as though I had said something sacrilegious. “We don’t play games that way," he rejoined quietly. “I am afraid this is going to be rather a forlorn hope, though." He took a niblick, and against the wind he was only able to get about half way to the green. This time, however, his ball was lying well. “I play the odd," he murmured, as he selected a runnlng-up cleek. We waited breathlessly for the shot. Norman’s caddy and.-* Michael’s servant, although they had no idea, of course, of the significance of the match, had gathered from our tense air that it was of no ordinary interest. We all watched Michael’s ball, when at last he played it, spell-bound. It was a low shot, beautifully straight for the flag, and I could scarcely keep back a little cry of joy when I saw it land on the green and run slowly two or three yards past the hole. "A fine recovery,” Norman said thickly. “My turn now to play the like.”

He took his putter and my heart sank as I saw him strike the ball well and firmly. For a moment it seemed as though he had holed it and the match was over. It came to a standstill about eighteen inches short. “This for a half,” Michael remarked as he went toward his bail. I saw him half close his eyes as he took up his stance and I won dered for a. moment what he was thinking of. He took the line carefully and struck the ball straight for the back of the hole. I gave a little gasp. It seemed as though the half were assured. Then a cry of dismay .from Michael’s caddy startled me. The ball, although it had seemed to hit the hack of the hole, spun around and came out again. Again it lay within a foot or so of the hole. Michael stood quite still, looking at it. Norman took out his putter, and I scarcely dared to watch. He was only a few inches from the hole. The result seemed certain. “This for the match.” he said, looking across at his opponent. “For the match.” Michael repeated hopelessly. Norman struck the ball with a little stab—and I could scarcely believe my eyes. It missed the hole, passing it on the left-hand side and coming to a standstill at least two feet away. Norman looked down at the ground in a puzzled manner. “This is the rottenest green on the course.” he muttered. “Whose play, caddy?” The caddy considered the matter for a moment and pointed to Michael. This time there was no mistake. The ball went well and truly to the bottom of the hole. Norman again surprised me. He studied his ridiculous little putt with exaggerated care, brushed away some fancied impediment and reproved his caddy sharply for talking. When he hit the ball, he hit it crisply enough, but again with that little stab which drew it once more to the wrong side of the hole. There was a little murmur. “I never saw such filthy putting in my life!” Norman exclaimed, looking exactly like a normal man who has lost an Important match by a moment’s carelessness. “Your match. Monsieur Benisande. I think perhaps you deserved. You had all the worst of the luck until my putting paralysis set in.” Michael took off his hat, and I saw great beads of perspiration upon his forehead. "I am thankful for my win,” he said quietly, “but I scarcely expected it,” “Janet and I will leave St. Jean de Luz at once.” Norman announced. “It will not be necessary,” Michael rejoined quickly. “Tomorrow I start for the mountains. I shall be gone for a week or more. I beg that you will not hurry your departure. May I speak to you for a moment, Janet?” Norman made his way, without remark, to the clubhouse. Ho neither spoke to nor looked toward Michael again. Men are strange beipgs. Th!s was the passing of the feud which left them both forsworn. I spared Michael the question which I knew was upon his lips. “Beatrice is well,” I told him. “She is still unmarried.” ”1 am sorry to hear that she is unmarried,” he said, “although no man in the world could be worthy of her. I am going to intrust you with a mission. If ever the truth concerning me should come to light, I want her to know this.” He drew r from his pocket a lettercase of black silk with platinum clasps, a simple, but very elegant trifle for a man. Out of it he drew what appeared to be its sole contents, a crumpled card, upon which was written, in Beatrice's handwriting, her own name. The card was smeared as though with the stain of crushed flowers. “I > planned my death.” he continued with a faint return to his old cynical smile, "very much as I have lived -ray life—with my tongue in my

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

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cheek. Then I read in some French paper that Beatrice had sent flowers to the hospital for my funeral, and I felt all the bitter shame of a man who has done an ugly thing. I made what atonement I could. After having reached absolute safety, I risked my life in almost foolhardy fashion. I attended my own funeral. I stole that card and one of the flowers from the grave. If ever she should learn the truth,” he added, his face turned away toward the moun-

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

tains, “I should like her to know that. She may reckon it as atonement." I laid my hand upon his arm. Speech of any sort seemed to have become extraordinarily difficult. last we saw of Michael was, in its Way, allegorical. As we climbed one of the grassy slopes of the golfclub on the following morning, we saw two men on the other side of the river, walking, steadily away from us along the path which led across the lower chain of hill# toward the moun-

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

Olivia Tells an Old One a New One

tains. They carried* knapsacks on their backs and long staves in their hands. They had, somehow, at that distance, the air of pilgrims. "There goes Benisande, off on one of his mountain expeditions,” the secretary, who was playing with Norman. remarked, pointing them out. "They say that he has made up his mind to climb that farther peak beyond the pass. Even the Basque guides call him foolhardy.” I watched the two figure#. I waved

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Vent This on Your Violin

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my hand in futile farewell. But Michael never once turned back. THE END Claim Mail Recent Record Anew Indianapolis record for receipt of mall was claimed today by the Boncilla Laboratories, Georgia and Pennsylvania Sts. The company received more than 11,000 pieces of mall in one day this week. Postal offlial# said thia ia unusually high. 1

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

Petticoats Again Petticoats and costume slips are Important items in the summer wardrobe this season. They come in plain tailored models as well as covered with lace and embroidery. Yellow Popular At the moment no color Is more popular than yellow. It is featured in millinery, lingerie, gowns and even in wrap*.

THURSDAY, JUNE 7,1923

—By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN.

Frilled Vesters *ys Frilled vestees, so popular with t tailored costume, are sometimes bound with color or with a figured or striped material. Sonp Stock In preparing stock for soups, gravies and dressings, remember that it should not stand in a covered receptacle after it is strained nrtieM the cover i perforated.