Indianapolis Times, Volume 37, Number 191, Indianapolis, Marion County, 11 December 1925 — Page 28

UOANNA

■ Beautiful JOANNA MANNERS, a New lYork clerk, who waa given $1,000,000 |').v an unknown benefactor, is jilted by her flam*. JOHN WILMORE. celebrated iroHileet. for YVONNE COUTANT. diI.om e. wtih whom she lives at Villa Vmette in France. While FRANCIS BRANDON, wealthy nephew of her banker. ANDREW EG- ' I}# 8 TON, inspects the structures being erected for Joanna’s forthcoming- fesivity he proposes to her. but she is unmoved. Yvonne had played for him in /Vain. In Eggleston's library hangs a large oarating of a girl who resembles Jo- : n>*. *■■ • - . LADY BETTY WEYMOTTIIK aske oanria to discourage the attentions of her brother. LORD DORMINSTER. 1 When Brandon hears that Joanna and ’todd.v Kenilworth are going to the

Today’s Cross-Word Puzzle

You’ll find that this is a difficult crossword puzzle. But don’t let t stop you!

HORIZONTAL 1. A line of color. 7. To spatter water. 13. One who takes advice. 14. Abutment on an arch. 15.. Morindin dye. 16. Mistake in printing. 18. Solar disc. 19.. To make even folds. 21.' Scythe. 23. Slippery fish (pi.). 24. Humor. 26. Bird’s home. 27.. Opposite of wet. 28,t Becomes dimmer. 30. Almost a donkey. 31. .Remarked. 32. To bellow. i 33. Silkworm. 35.. Alluvial matter. 37.*; Self, to. Tidy. 12. Female of the fallow deer. 13. Stomach of an animal. 14. Stalks of sugar. 16, Lac. 17. Alleged force producing hypnotism. 48.' Paralyzed. 51. Point of compass. 52.. To complain. 54.' One who censures. 56. Eaten away. 57. Church officers. VERTICAL 1. Molded. 2. Bank clerk. 3., Second note In scale. 4j. Thoughts. Saucy. 6. To mistake. 7v*> Was seated. 8. . Fruit.

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f TRAVEL 1 [ UNION TPACTIOH J

clubhouse on La Turbie mountain, he follows. After a hold-up. Brandon seeks Joanna and informs her that he controls the source of her money, that he does not love her. but unless she marries him, the money must be returned. With a champagne bottle she knocks him to the floor. By H. L. Gates CHAPTER XXXIV The Flight D 1 "”J OWNST AIRS they danced; 1 danced and shouted witty, taunting, mocking things at each other. Long, twisting serpen-

9. Citric fruit. 10. Preposition of place. 11. To emphasize. 12. Blood pumps. 17. In the midst of. 0. Beautiflc. 22. Those who are clothed. 4. Walked through water. 25. Concise. 'B. Similar to a date. 29. Drunkard. Vi. To applaud for additional songs. 14. A child’s first book. 16. Ages. '2. Winner. 39, Landlords. 11. Moderately warm. 43. Yielded. 45. Sensible. 46. Roll of film. 49. Guided. 50. Small fish. 53. Italian river. 55. Myself. Answer to Yesterday’s Crossword Puzzle:

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tines, thrown from dancer to dancer in carnival abandon, spread a rippling- blanket of tawdry colors over the clubhouse floor. And Joanna gazed down—down upon the prostrate form that lay at her feet, the crimson still trickling in ghastly persistence from the white forehead. After a little while she opened her fingers and the broken wreck champagne bottle fell to the carpet. She closed her eyes and lifted her face, from which all the color had fled. This was a pose Joanna had never struck before. It was one she’d never practiced. She’d never thought of anything quite like It. It was as if she wasn’t posing at all—Just holding her face toward Heaven with her eyes closed as if afraid to contemplate the message that might be written there. Then she went onto the balcony and closed the door behind her. She nodded to the waiter who stood nearby, flashing him an assuring smile that seemed to tell him she was enjoying herself tremendously and would be coming back in a moment. Downstairs she skirted the dance floor and threaded her -way among the tables to the foyer. The red coated attendant bowed to her. “It is still black outside, Mademoiselle,’’ he said. “No one could get down, now. It will lift by morning though.” “Just the same," she returned, “please to call for Mr. Brandon’s car. I think he will have one parked in the yard.” The flunkey would have protested but Joanna silenced him with an arrogant gesture. Muttering, he went onto the veranda, Joanna following him and called to a knot of chauffeurs who stood in the mistdulled glare of a powerful headlight discussing, no doubt, the affairs of their masters. None of these responded. He went then into the yard, and among the parked cars. He found the hunched shape of Antoine and spoke to him. Antoine, wondering, agreed that Monsieur Brandon was his patron. “Very well then.” the attendant commanded, “be so good as to bring your car to the entrance. Your

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES —By Martin

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OUT V/DONSr N -SttCK ....i I OF THE.NnerHT.

THE JL& DJLAN ABULIfe TIMES

THE STOR Y OF A MODERN GIRL AND A MILLION DOLLARS

master seems to be remaining. Mademoiselle, his young lady, apparently brings hie order for you to take her down the mountain. You can’t make it, of course, but that Is his and her affair, net mine.” Antoine growled his doubts of such a situation. They were cut short by Joanna herself, who appeared suddenly at the side of the car in the wake of the doormah. "I do not desire to be taken, down the mountain," she declared. "Your master, however, requires you, inside, at once. I am to await your return, with him perhaps. In the car. Please to go at once.” Both Antoine and the servant were puzzled, but Joanna brooked no tardiness in obeying her commands. To Antoine she repeated: “I bring your master’s orders. Attend to them! The attendant here will show you the way to Mr. Brandon. He awaits you in the private room, on the balcony.” Still dubious about this sudden humor to expose him to to possible identifications by the maskers in the clubhouse Antoine descended from the car and stumbled along behind the other man. Joanna climbed Into the seat he had vacated. - When their two forms disappeared across the veranda she felt with her toe for the starter, found it, kicked it. and in another moment was guiding the gray car toward the gate. When she was safely through the gate she disappeared in the mist. The curious chauffeurs who had watched her maneuver heard the echo of her horn untli It, too, was absorbed by the thick, opaque atmosphere. "That’s the one they call the Golden Girl,’’ one of the drivers explained to his companions. “Pity, Isn’t it. to see a young thing like her clear gone to the devil!” Antoine, led at his request through kitchens and sculleries, was brought to the closed door on the balcony. The guardian waiter opened the door for him. Brandon’s eyelids were beginning to quiver. The excitable waiter would have lunged out of the room with a cry of alarm, but Antoine clutched him by the throat and smothered the sounds In It. “Quietly, my friend, quietly!" he grumbled. “There’s something to hide here, not to advertise. Bring

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

the proprietor, or his assistant — quietly.” At the end of sun hour’s patient ministrations behind the locked door Brandon, stretched In a divan, held his eyes open end gazed around him His flrpt feebly uttered question was: “Where’s the girl?* The Mademoiselle?" • • • TANARUS"“ l HE club house director would have silenced Antoine’s com- * plaint that she had stolen his car, but the Monegasque would not be restrained. Through the bandages matted about Brandon’s head something of a fleeting smile escaped. “It Is just as well,” he murmured. “Be of cheer, my good Antoine! I failed, but I fancy you and your men will be paid double for your little practice tonight.” “But she will give the alarm below!’’ the other exclaimed. “Before morning! After dawn it would be futile, we contemplated an alarm by dawn when the men got down. But not before! You did not keep her here —till dawn, as you agreed!” Again Brandon smiled weakly, and indicated the bandages. “She is to blame for that. But I do not think she will give an alarm. That will await the men you left in the barn. The police will not be concerned, much, when you have returned to them the plunder you collected. When you havp sent them that, you -will be as I said —paid double.” The expression on the face of the club house official who had heard the cryptic conversation began to show a gleam of understanding—a curious understanding of the holdup which had sent the group of half hysterical women back to his hospitalities. Antoine noted and shifted, uneasily. Brandon too, alert despite his pain, saw. He called the man to the couch: “Do not be concerned by the little drama in the mist tonight,” he said, between his laborious breathings. “You patrons who were robbed will receive their valuables, I have reason to believe. They will be none the worse for their experience. They may not know of it, of course, but they played their parts tonight In a great adventure.”

[- _1 E'ANWHILE Joanna. her |jM| wra P® unfastened again, her ■ *| slim hands gripped to the wheel of the gray car, fought her way along the narrow road. When she rounded a turn just above the village of La Turbie little pin lights of light shone up. For down, out over the sea, the light house at the base of Cap Martin glowed like a far away eye of the night. The mist was lifting before the threat of dawn. Beyond La Turbie the country, although chaotic, was visible. The lambs along the sea boulevard were discernible. The thought of Kenilworth, still captive with the other men in the hidden barn of the bandits, bothered her for a moment. An imruljse came to turn around and, with the road partially clear, now, feel her way back to the hut she was certain she would recognize. She could, she considered, pick up someone at La Turbie to help her awaken the countryside. She decided against this plan, however, settled back behind her wheel, and shot into high speed. The grounds of Villa Amette were vaporated by the rising dampness of the dissipating mist. A solitary light, near the entrance gate, gleamed timidly. As she guided the car along the winding road to the house among the vague, gray shapes of the arbors and pergolas and pavilions which, in another few hours, were to be a blazing, fantastic background for her brilwliant and lavish sete —the fete of the Golden Girl and, also, her Swan Song! For Brandon had said, “I am the one!” and he had said, too: “Whatever you have is to be taken from you. There shall be no more money!” When she drew up in front of a side entrance, to the villa she saw that the house itself was also dark. She considered whether or not to summon a servant with her horn, and decided to leave the cat in the roadway and go in quietly. She ached for the aloneness of her room —the room which held the great golden bed. At the ponderous villa doors she was troubled by the thought that she had never found it necessary to carry any sort of key. Servants always awaited her return, but they had to be summoned by the bell. She tried the door, however, and found

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—By BLOSSEIt

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that it was unfastened. She closed it softly behind her and felt her way across a tiny reception room to a draped arch that opened into a sel-dom-used drawing room. Across this room would be the grand hall from which a stairway led to the upper floors. When she was almost up to the heavy, double drapes which hung, In the arched door that opened Into the bigger room she stopped, suddenly. Between the curtains a line of light shone. She heard the murmur of voices. Convinced that it would be servants, awaiting her perhaps, she pushed the curtains aside and stepped Into the room. Then she stood, fascinated. The voices swelled as the curtains parted. One of them she recognized as Yvonne’s; the other, John’s. And at the far end of the room she saw them, before the gentle glow in the fireplace, the only illumination in the room. Yvonne, gorgeous and Circe-like, her sinuous body wrapped in the sense-destroying hues of rich, red Burgundy, her only ornaments dazzling diamonds that glistened like a myriad of consuming fires in the gentle firelight glow, leaned forward in a cushioned, gilded chair. And at her feet—at “satin slippers never worn by Joanna's feet," as Brandon had taunted her —was John! For one brief instant the thing before her muddled, and assumed a contorted shape. Then the smolder in the fireplace burst into a flame of hell, and died again Into something that flared as a grotesque mockery. Joanna’s wrap fell from her shoulders. Her little hands dug into her breasts, but gave the senseless body no pain. The little figure In black stood, then, utterly lost to every thought but of what she saw—and heard. “I have never known love until now! All else has been Just u chimera. It la you who have shown what love’s glory is! Please, my wonderful dear, will you take me In —and comfort me?” John’s voice, that was; John! Passion and pleading and humility, in it. All those nuances of adoration, submission, hope and prayer and yearning that Joanna had never hear In it. Now, Yvonne’s low, silvery cad>nces, infinitely sweet, and —Infinitely soothing:

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

I RIDA Y, DEC. 11, 1925

“Are you contend—will you be content—to accept from me the iovc that is the only kind that I may give you? The love that has blossomed and withered so many, many times? Mine can never be a pure love, my friend. And I inny never promise its constancy. It is the crown that you may wear only while you can defend, and keep it. That Is what is said of me, and my love, my dear, and I must not say to you that what Is said is untrue. If we love, you and I, and if 1 give to you the portion I may spare you. you must be content. It can never be a holy love—there must always be something wanton in it. It must be the kind we take and put aside. Will that then, satisfy you?!’ He crept closer to her. She put her hands about his face, 'a warm, mesmeric hands. Her rich, soft, round lips—lips that were a sign of ill love-madness since the world botan —went down to his. Then it was John’s voice, again: “There can be no other love as wonderful as you can give. In any way that I may have it, If it be pure or defiled, I want it!” A scream, a torrent of them, a frenzy of them, surged to Joanna’s lips, and halted there. It was Yvonne who rose, slowly, sinuously gracefully, Joanna saw, as if It were Borne strange, fantastic symbol taking form at the rim of a distant horizon, a smile, a faintly lined, queer and flitting smile, at Yvonne’s red lips. And John saw, and got to his feet, sense-dazed and marveling. Again that low, soft, silvery cadence of Yvonne: “What a poor, damnable thing you are, my friend! Go preach, my dear! Preach to Joanna: preach to the heart and the soul and the wonders of her! Preach, but do ft on your knees and take your text from the lesson I’ve taken the trouble to give you. Tell her that you’ve learned, at last that you’re only make-believd —you and all your kind. Tell her that if she’ll have you, you’ll try to learn from her—the sort of thing her kind can teach.” John's voice, then, but Joanna didn’t hear. She stumbled blindly back through the curtains. (Copyright, 1925, H. L. Gates) (To Be Continued)