Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 36, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 June 1923 — Page 8

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CHAPTER I The Rumor Mark brendon, at 35, aiready stood high in the criminal investigation department of the police. He was indeed about to receive an inspectorship. Mark was taking holiday on Dartmoor, devoting himself to his hobby of trout fishing and accepting the opportunity to survey his own life from a birds-eye point of view, measure his achievement and consider iimpartlally his future, not only as a detective, but as a man He found himself with ff-,000 saved as a result of some special grants during the war and a large honorararium from the French government. He was also in possession of a handsome salary and the prospect of promotion, when a senior man retired at no distant date. Too intelligent to find all that life had to offer in his work alone, he now began to think of culture, of human pleasures, and those added interests and responsilbilitles that a wife and family would offer. He was somewhat overweary after a strenuous year, but to Dartmoor he always came for health and rest when opportunity offered, and now he had returned for the third time to the Duchy Hotel at Prineetown. Being a good talker, he never failed of an audience there. But better still, he liked, an hour sometimes with the prison wardens. For the convict prison that dominated that gray smudge in the heart of the moors known as Prineetown held many interesting and famous criminals.

THE STRANGER STOPPED AS HE SAW BRENDOX. He had found an unknown spot where some good trout dwelt and on an evening in mid-June he set forth to tempt them. He had discovered certain deep pools In a disused quarry fed by a streamlet. Foggintor Quarry. wherein lay these preserves, might be approached in two ways. Originally broken Into the granite bosom of the moor for stone to build the bygone war prison of Prineetown, a road still extended to the deserted spot and joined the main thoroughfare half a mile distant Brendon. however, came hither by a direct path over the moors. Leaving Prince town railway station upon his l?fr hand he set his face west where the waste heaved out before him dark against a blaze of light from the sky. Against the western flame appeared a figure carrying a basket. Mark Brendon, with thoughts on. the evening rise of the trout. lifted his face at a light footfall. Whereupon there passed by him the fairest woman he had ever known. She was slim and not very tall. She wore no hat and the auburn of her hair, piled high above her forehead, tangled the warm sunset beams and burned like a halo round her head. And she had blue

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eyes—blue as the gentian. Their size impressed Brendon. She walked quickly with a good stride and her slight, silverv skirts and rosy, silken jumper showed her figure clearly enough—her round hips and firm, girlish bosom. Her eyes met his for a moment with a frank, trustful expression, then she had passed. The vision made Mark pensive, as sudden beauty will, and he wondered about the girl. Tramping forward now the detective came to a great crater that gaped on the hillside and stood above the dead quarry workings of Foggintor. Underneath him opened a cavity with sides 200 feet high. Mark proceeded to the extreme breadth of the quarry, fifty yards northerly, and stood above two wide, still pools in the midst. Trout moved and here and there circles of light widened out on the water and rippled to the cliff beyond. Mark set about his sport, yet felt that a sort of unfamiliar division had come into his mind and, while he brought two tiny-eyed files from a box and fastened them to the hairlike leader he always used, there persisted the thought of the auburn girl —her eyes blue as April—her swift, delicate tread. He began to fish as the light thickened; but he only cast once or twice and then decided to wait half an hour. He grounded his rod and brought brier pipe and a pouch of tobacco from. his pocket. The things of day were turning to slumber; but still there persisted a clinking sound, uttered monotonously from time to time, which the sportsman supposed to be a bird. It came from behind the great acclivities that ran opposite his place by the pools. Brendon suddenly perceived that it was no natural noise that arose from some human activity. It was, in fact, the musical note of a mason's trowel, and when presently it ceased, he was annoyed to hear heavy footsteps in the quarry. A big. broad man approached him, clad in a Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers and a red waistcoat and gaudy brass buttons. The stranger stopped as he saw Brendon, straddled his great legs, took a cigar from his mouth and spoke. “Ah! You've found ’em, then?" “Found what?” asked the detective. “Found these trout. I come here for a swim sometimes. I’ve wondered why I never saw a rod in this hole. There are a dozen half pounders there and possibly some bigger ones.”

It was Mark's instinctive way to study all fellow creatures with whom he came in contact. He saw a pair of broad shoulders ! and a thick neck over which hung a square, hard jaw and a determined chin. Then came a big mouth and the largest pair of mustaches Bren don remembered to have observed on any countenance. They were of a foxy red. and beneath them flashed large, white teeth when the big man talked in rather grating tones. His hair was a fiery red, cut close, and of a hue yet more Violent than his mustaches. The big man appeared friendly though Brendon heartily wished him away. “This bally place seems to bewitch people.” said the big man. The other laughed. “There is a magic here. It gets into your blood.” “So it does. A man I know Is building himself a bungalow out here He and his wife will be just as happy as a pair of wood pigeons— at least they think so.” “I heard a trowel clinking.” . “Yes. I lend a hand sometimes when the workmen are gone. But think of it —to turn your back on I civilization and make yourself a home I in a desert!” I "Might do worse—if you've got no ambitions.” “Yes —ambition is not their strong j point. They think love’s enough—poor souls. Why don't you fish?” "Waiting for it to get a bit darker.” “Well, so long. Take care you don't catch anything that'll pull you in.” Laughing at his joke the red man strode off through the gap fifty yards distant. Then in the stillness Mark heard the purr of a machine. He had evidently departed upon a motor bicycle to the main road half a mile distant. When he was gone Brendon rose and strolled down to the other entrance of the quarry that he might see the bungalow of which the stranger had spoken. The day grew very dim and the fret of light and shadow died off the earth, leaving all vague and vast and featureless. Brendon returned to his I sport and found a small "coachman” fly sufficiently destructive. The two pools yielded a dozen trout, of which he kept six and returned the rest to the water. Tramping back under the stars, his thoughts drifted to the auburn girl of the moor. Four evenings after his first fishing expedition to the quarries, Mark devoted a morning to the lower waters of the Meavy River; at the end of that day, not far short of midnight, v/hen glasses were empty and pipes knocked out. half a dozen men. just about to retire, heard a sudden and evil report. Will Blake, “Boots” at the Duchy Hotel, was waiting to extinguish the lights, and seeing Brendon he said; “There's something In your line happened, master, by the look of it. A pretty bobbery tomorrow.“ “A convict escaped. Will?” asked the detective, yawning and longing for bed. “That's about the only fun you get up here, isn’t It?” “Convict escaped? No—a man done in seemingly. Mr. Pendean’s uncle j in-law have slaughtered Mr. Pendean by the looks of it.” “And who is Mr. Pendean?" "The gentleman what’s building the bungalow down to Foggintor.*Mark started The big red man flashed to his mind complete in every physical feature. He described him and Will Blake replied: “That’s the chap that's done it That’s the gentleman's uncle-in-law!'' Brendon went to bed and slept no worse for the tragedy. Nor, when morning came and every maid and -

DOINGS OF THE DUFFS—

M. / I'LL BET YOU HOW, OH IS THAT X\ V/ THEY WENT OUT < WELL, WHAT ARE \ COME MERE I CAM LOOK INTO YOUR EYES, W(IY \ 4 f ,„,™5 ’ A ( where dio together for a we going to do j and sit down without laughing longer. J SuRE . ' < / C' A / MOTHER AMD I LITYLE w M IL E TO HAVE SOME / AND I’LL SHOW THAN YOU CAN LOOK INTO > PADDY so? I ZJo A-MCnmo Tn V FUN ? / YOU A NEW STUNT , l MINE- ' THINK HOW \ EXPRESSION ON

=— \ / Putting a worm \ /Oh GObH no MAM. AT A [ON A HOOK SEEMS ) / OONT HURT T-V WORM \ \SO CPuEL, T MOST T. I ATAU_\ WV-w iF iT HuRTT j y { HURT THEM SOMEIUINGr \ \ ', M mE'D MOLLtP / X, i. X \ X. 1 WPW AYd WOTwORMb I A V ,€> gout/ lit' oWMj |i -4.Wy/// Another angle, onthe angle worm. trw.ii.am^ V /

THEM UAIS IS GON.E FOREVER—

(JRT DOfO’T YOO Gvs/E YOU* THAT YOO’ftG A COUUOLOCS To THC LADIES- TFI4EM IS S6AT OP TO IMG LADV ?- MO AAATTEC* TRETR.G THE GENJTLfcR. SGK, PaMVPSI • Cpyniit by IJmMd FmNn SMFiM

r Mtf, „ J l l M .Llifc f yj? liveryman davX wSfrAKBR wo was recently beat /n a TRADE WPTCHES EVERY STRANGER WHO COMES TO TOWN /n HOPES HE CAN Rid of-that solid gold watch that turned green l TWO DAYS AFTER. HE GOT IT. . TAIJirV \ -a7AM-£?7 NEA SffRVTCB

man desired to tell him all they knew, did he show the least interest. He was just slipping on a raincoat and about to leave the hotel when Will Blake appeared and handed him a letter. He felt curious and, not associating the incident with the rumored crime, set down his rod and creel, opened the note, and read what was written: “3 Station Cottages, Pripcetown. “Dear Sir: The police have told me.

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

THE OLD HOME TOWN—By STANLEY

that you are in Prlncetown, and it seems as though Providence had sent you. I fear that I have no right to seek your services directly, but if you can answer the prayer of a heartbroken woman and give her the benefit of your genius in this dark moment, she would be unspeakably thankful. “Faithfully yours, "JENNY PEND JEAN.” Mark Brendon murmured “damn” gently under , his breath. Then he

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

turned to Will. “Where is Mrs. Pendean’s house?” he asked. “In Station Cottages, just before you come to the prison woods, sir.” “Run over, then, and say I’ll call in half an hour.” (Continued in Our Next Issue) Wood is used for the manufacture of artificial silk, rope, carpets and other fabrics.

Entertaining Danny

/ yUADE Foe J > \wuat wz. / ( s XZT" S T 'E*Y. J j rr-S-OMETWIM' / j Ul™ \ t ttmww iriter* —i ; 600% i _ i 'EM l , ,4^ J: jJ ( 60OSEBSBSES? J ¥ L AZHIWTAtt w J't'l I ME'JEg AG < L (L tJVJE CUPCCNT ) —-

Tackle This on Your Tambourine

Jwolpod \ f4Xo-VLL# i BATH'S -T-upropr < f " u \ “Hvi caUarY )1 w\tvi a suieett THERS HE Aliy / FOR?.! S'POSE/ )SMIIE‘ AkIMP 1 X BEkJ J \ BEDTIME ( [ V FOR * 1 9PO < / get Voi) TOHPUIS ill \D t ih— ' STDRY ABOILT \ \ EAv?S ARE 1 \ -j-^' 3u HUR ’ oorwiSe ( 09EI) 1 AGMkI I,LL ° f \aT3DGESGAVEL; 3P I -X* I DOVvJiI OfJ VoUR i N> =? p- J r # V 9^OULDER sj r Si

NEW PLATE GLASS RECORDEXPECTEO NEW YORK. June 22.—Plate glass enough to glaze a contiguous store

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSER

OUR BOxVRDING HOUSE—By AHERN

front six feet high from New York to San Francisco will be produced this year in the United States. Figures announced by P. A. Hughes, secretary of the Plate Glass Manufacturers of America, place the country’s production of plate glass for the first quarter of the year at 19,952,154 square feet. Total for the year will be between 85,000,000 and 90,000,000 square feet.’ Hughes pointed to these figures In denying rumor* that a plate

FRIDAY, JUNE 22, 1923

-By ALLMAN

—By AL POSEN

glass shortage threatens the trades. Use of plate glass has Increased rapid yin recent years. The estimated high record of 90,000,000 square feet for 1923 follows a production of 76,678,207 square feet in 1922 and an output of 53.578,682 square feet In 1921. Birth rate for the first six months of this year was 22.7 for each 1,000 i population.