Indianapolis Times, Volume 35, Number 70, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 August 1923 — Page 8

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SEWN % ISLAND *W<y SMELL. iwustratsd By ©HtA StßviCt- R*AS*ttn9&\*\& This unusual series of stories deals with the exploits of “Chinese” Pennington, a detective sent by his government to British North Borneo to run to earth The Yellow Seven, a gang of Chinese bandits. "nrTjHE man with the iron-gray hair who was writing at a table under the swinging oil lamp, looked up and his eye fell upon the figure of a tall Cinaman who had come noiselessly to the top of the steps that led to the veranda. The intrudor was as dark-skinned as a Dyak, and an ugly scar ran the whole length of one cheek. Hyde, glaring at him, classed him as a member of one of those many tribes of fisher-folk created by a fusion of Oriental and Dusun blood.

He pushed back his chair and confronted the newcomer. “Well?” he demanded in fluent Malay. “What the devil d’you want?” The scarecrow’s features puckered Into a grin. “Asa matter of fact, Hyde,” he drawled In good English, “I’m in need of many things. I’m deuced hungry, for one; my throat's a good deal drier than I like It to be, and I’d be grateful for a decent suit of whites!” The planter scratched his head. “What *he—! Who are you, anyway?” “Pennington,” said the other humbly. “Peter Pennington, commonly referred-to as Chinese Pennington.” “Good Lord!” He scrutinized the younger plan’s features. Presently he extended a hand and Pennington gripped |t hard. j

►THIS IS MY DAUGHTER,” SAID THE PLANTER. A quarter of an hour later both |nen sat facing one another, a glass fasting In the aperture made In the I frm of each chair for that purpose. As the man with the gray hair looked tecross at his guest, he could not regain from wondering at the complete■Dess of the transformation. The swarthy complexion, scar, everything fas gone except the one great asset ■that made Chinese Pennington the ifnost dreaded of all detectives In Borneo—that strange, unaccountable set es the eyes that made him look as If fils origin had been partly Chinese. "There's a hundred and one questions on the tip'of my tongue,” he Aald, shifting a cigar to the comer fti his mouth. What’s puzzling me fnost, I suppose. Is the motive that’s brought you here.” “Chat-Hung!” The planter almost jumped from his ichair. "But, man, alive, I had a chit from -the commissioner, ages ago, saying that Chai-Hung was dead!" Pennington smiled blandly. “We all thought so—once; but that •was before -we realized the peculiar ..properties of the man with whom we had to deal. You remember the Yellow Seven scare, when no white man dared go out alone, when we all began digging out firearms the very existence of which we’d forgotten? That was Mr. Chai-Hung. He’d organized practically the entire Chinese population, and a score of times I thought I’d run him to earth, only to discover that the inherent cunning of •his race had succeeded In finding a loophole In the wall I’d built around him.” The planter emptied his glass. "That’s all wonderfully interesting,” he said slowly; “ but I still don’t see— ’’ " —why I chose to Invade your bungalow like a thief in the night, eh? I am on a game of hare and hounds —

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a form of paper-chase that a schoolboy might be beguiled into! Only the scent isn't laid in bits of torn paper —it’s blazed—positively blazed —in 1 Japanese fans.” “Fans?” “Sounds idioiic, doesn’t it?—but it’s true enough. The trail led me here —and then stopped abruptly.” “What are they like—these fans?” “Just ordinary affairs—a flimsy frame and a handle of polished cane, with some sort of light material stretched across—and a picture on it.” "Nothing very wonderful in that,” he grunted. “I’ve a dozen or so of ’em myself.” “I daresay you have. Everybody buys them—and that’s precisely where the cunning of the scheme comes in. Chal-Hung's up against whites, particularly those who are in a position of Influence. He knows most women are superstitious and, in this instance his energies are directed in hitting at us through our womenfolk. A woman wants a fan. The shopman displays his usual selection and then, awaiting an opportunity when nobody’s looking, produces one of the other sort, encased in a silk cover. This, it transpires, is not for sale. He wishes that the lady will acept it as a gift. He pitches a plausible yam about special ocult powers that v are supposed to be associated with it. . All that is required is for the lady to look at It intently every night. She must not show it to anybody, or even talk about it, for, in so doing, its properties are lost.” Hyde arose and perched himself on the edge of the table. “Well,” he interjected, “and w'hat do they see?” Pennington waved both hands helplessly in the air. “What d’you make of it?” asked the planter. “Hypnotism!” He clasped both hands over his knee. “I believe that each of these fans is prepared for the victim for whom it is intended. Each bears a photograph, the picture of a place clearly portrayed and wellknown to the victim to insure there being no serious hitch. She is fdrced in some mysterious manner to go to that place—w-here Chai-Hung's men are in waiting.” His eyes blazed. “What d'you want to do?” “ 1 mean to get hold of one of those fans—in the lamp-light, fm going to see one of those pictures!” • • • From the varanda-rail Pennington watched the great sheets of white mist rolling from the padi-lands at dawn. A chill current of air, blowing from nowhere in particular, fanned his. forehead and he glanced back over his shoulder to see Hyde, in faded pyjamas, beaming cordially at him. “Morning," said Pennington. "I was just admiring your landscape. The amazing thing about this life. Hyde, is that one never finishes discovering new things.” “Such as—?" "Such as those islands, for example. I never remember seeing them before.” The planter joined him. “It’s a gray w’orld—before the sun is up,” mused the * younger man. “What d’you call that island?” “Which one?” “The larger of the three.” Hyde smiled. “Strictly speaking, it has no name; but, for want of something better to do. I’ve dubbed it “Island N.’ ” “Any particular reason?” “There were once three tall trees on a hillock, that stood out from all the rest. During a_cyclone, one of them fell across the two others—and It’s stopped there ever since. It looks as much like an ‘N’ as any-, thing else.” “Ever been there?” “Chn’t say that I have. There used to be a colony of natives. You can still see what remains of their houses. But they cleared out in a panic after the storm —and I've heard since that it’s supposed locally to be haunted.” Pennington drew himself erect and inhaled a deep breath. "I can see those trees,” jerked out Pennington suddenly, shading his eyes. “I’ve a feeling in my bones I’d like to run over there one of these days ’ “There’s nothing to stop you. Only you’d have to paddle yourself across —or sw r im it. I doubt very much if you’d succeed in bribing any one in the locality to take you there.” The boy appeared suddenly with tea and greten bananas, and the conversation turned' upon other subjects. Presently Pennington was somewhat surprised to see the figure of a girl on a short, sturdy pony wheel into view on the broad path that wound between the trees. She cantered up to the bungalow, dismounted, and slung the reins over a post. She came up the steps, a trim, youthful figure, here eyes sparkling as they fell upon Hyde.' “Morning, Dad!” —and then she saw Pennington. Both men rose to their feet.' “This is my daughter,” said the planter by way of introduction. “Dora, I don’t think you’ve met Mr. Pennington.” The girl dropped into a cane chair. “I’ve been ever so far. I left Jack In the lines and rode through the native village right into the jungle. I love the dawn, don't you, Mr. Pennington?” “Dora married young Bateson —my second assistant.” explained the planter. “tfe y°u a planter?" The girl surPennington curiously.

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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™ ; PUT THE UP A ( HOME \ —-~=j again- the Place is all I | eftuNoij run down business J 1 J o~( HAS GONE TO POT— ( T iml> 1 •. STANt-ey THE SIGN /N FRONT OF HOADLEYS STORE FELL Down today— it will, not be replaced DAD HOADLEY TH/NKS NOW IS A GOOD ~T7ME TO RETIRE FROM BUSINESS/

He shook his head. “I’ve never planted anything In my life,” he said. “Asa matter of fact, I’m criminally overpaid by a much trusting Government to look after the interests of pretty women who go out riding, alone, before dawn." Mrs. Bateson flushed. "Are you laughing at me, Mr. Penningtn?’ “On the contrary, I was never more serious in my life.” Pennington rolled his own cigarettes. He did so now and the girl, lying back in her chair, watched him in mute fascination. He glanced up presently and passed her an open tin that stood on the table near his arm. The corners of Dora Bateson’s pretty mouth dropped. “Is this a sort of special concession. Mr. Pennington?” she demanded, bending forward toward the match he held out. (Continued in Our Next Issue) George Ad© Writes Another Director Alfred E. Green, and Thomas E. Geraghty, scenarist, who have been in the East for the last week conferring with George Ade on the original story he has written for the screen for Thomas Meighan, have returned to the west coast. Green will direct the picture and Geraghty will write the continuity for the story which now has the temporary title, “All Must Marry.” The picture will be produced at the Lasky Studio in Hollywood, following the completion of ‘“Homeward Bound,” which Meighan is now making in the East under the direction of Ralph Ince.

OUK BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

THE OLD TOWN—By STANLEY

Ex-residents of Pennsylvania living at Anderson have organized a Pennsylvania Club. Boy Scouts at Elwood will leave Monday, Aug. 6, for a wreeks’ camping trip at La kg Webster. A sectional tennis tournament for the championship of Johnson, Decatur, Shelby, Jackson and Bartholomew is soon to be held at Columbus. More than 300 former boys and girls in Shelby County will hold a picnic at Walnut Grove summer camp on Sugar Creek Aug. 17. Jasper business men have formed an association and are backing oil drillers in that county. Farmers near Rushville are organizing a club to protect small game and quail. They fear small game will become extinct. The fourth annual reunion of the Brown, Anderson and Wilhelm families will be held at the Tipton Park, Aug. 19. South Bend has under consideration a proposition of cleaning the streets by flushing them from Are hydrants, saying the present sprinkling system is unsatisfactory. The board of trustees of the Christian Messenger Church at Columbus plan anew building.

THE TNDTANAPOT.TR TIMES

HOOSIER BRIEFS

Contract for anew gymnasium costing $51,000 in Martinsville has been let Besides sports it is to be used for public picnics. Miss Katherine Frazee, librarian at Seymour, has submitted a report saying Seyrribur reads more books for each person than the average "city in Its class. Twenty-eight churches, representing six counties are meeting in Rushville at the 101st annual session of the Flat Rock Baptist Aisoclatlon.

History of the Sandwich Gastronomy has immortalized Recipes for th sixty most worldJohn, Earl of Sandwich, in the famous sandwiches are contained . . i „vi.u i— in a bulletin just prepared by our convenient morsel which is re- WaaMnyton bur^u _ which puted to be his Invention. reader can get by Ailing out and The progeny have been mailing coupon below; WASHINGTON BUREAU, INDIANAPOLIS TIMES, 1322 N. Y. AVE.. WASHINGTON, D. C. I want a copy of the bulletin SIXTY SANDWICHES, and enclose herewith 4 cents in postage stamps for same: NAME * STREET AND NO \ . CITY STATE

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Willie Has Deep Theories

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LIMITED LOVER' COWARDLY-FIFER Governor McCray Unable to Speak at Revival, “The man that cannot love to the uttermost is a little yellow soul,” declared the Rev. Orlen W\ Fifer, pastor Central Avenue M. E. Church,

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

SALESMAN SAM—BY SWAN

Wednesday night at a Methodist oldtime revival meeting on the lawn of Roberts Park M. E. Church. N. Delaware and Vermont Sts. "We have a great deal of love in j this world,” said Rev. Fifer, “but we don’t have many w r ho love to ! the end. How often is a home broken up over some insignificant thing. If a man or woman can love a little, there is hope for their souls. If we live hnteful lives, there is no promise for salvation.” Governor McCray, who was sched-

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THURSDAY, AUG/2, 1923

—By BLOSSER

uled to speak, was called out of the city. Engaged for Movie Sam Allen, who assumed the leading role of ‘‘Lightnin’" at Frank Bacon’s death, has been caat by B. F. Schulberg, producer of Preferred Pictures, as Uncle Hughey in ‘‘The Virginian.” Tom Forman Is now directing the picture and at present has his company on location in Wyoming, where the story is being filmed in the exact spots described by Owen Wlster in his famous story.