Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 16, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 May 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

SANDY

THE STORY SO I AR , , SANDY McNEIL. in lovo with life, marries REN MURILLO, a rich Italian. In please her impoverished family. Tyranny by Murillo and frequent quarrels ioliow. A sou dies at birth. 808 <pl;- , NEIL, her uncle, aids ill plans for Sandy and her mother to take a trip to Honolulu. There she meets RAMON WORTH, who declares his love. Murillo says lie will never release her. JUDITH MoOltß, a cousin, tells Sandy love Is everything. Sandy leaves Murillo and accept* ths kindly attentions of Ramon, whose home she snares. When her mother dies sins leaves Ramon and goes to live with her voiisiii Judith. DOUGLAS KETTIi. the man whom Judith loves, introduces lus friend HAL HUME, a doctor, to Judith. Le. himself, falls in love with Sandy, who reciproeau’s his affection. This loaves Judith heart-broken. Sandy meets Ramon Worth, who has returned from the Orient, and she tells Douglas of his return. They plan_to run away together. The day before. Sandy go a io Ramon’s office at his urgent request. He shoots Sandy and commits suicide, u.mdr is taken to Hai Humes shack when it is learned that her name Is eoimect'sl with the'seandal. Then Dongla, is called before detectives, who learn that he was at Ramons office on the day of the suicide. Although Douglas denies any part in the shooting, he is indicted for murder. Judith determines to tel wiiat she knows of the aftair and vindicate Douglas, finally promising him she will not tell Sandy. The trial nears conclusion and the prosecution ln--1 reduces a witness who testifies he saw Douglas pick up in his arms a woman apparently wounded in Worths office the night, of the murder. GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER CX - She—Emma followed him to the fudge's chambers. And she clung to his arm, sobbing. She stood on her toes, whispered in h!s ear: "Oh, Douglas—oh, my boy,” like that, repeating it and repeating it. Ills teeth chattered. They knocked together. He couldn’t stop this. He tried to say, cooly: “What’s the matter, Em? Em, darling. Look here, Em. don’t do that!" His voice had a hollow, shivering note, as though he were very cold. She pulled at his sleeve. "Stoop down, Douglas, stoop down. Was it you? It was you ho saw? Oh! was it? Was it? "Em, listen! Now, look here; what are you crying about?” But she clung to him and repeated: "Oh, Douglas—oh, my boy." and doubled her little, hard hands about his sleeve and stared in his face with inquiry terrified and incredulous. Her son—this darling brown haired boy of hers —how she had loved the evening; the washing of dishes because it brought him close to her; because he stood there drying three dishes at a time, snapping the towel and ordering. That s clean enough . . . get a move on, Em, ole dear!” This bonny lad trying to smile at her: looking out of harried and darkened eyes like one trapped—one trapped and aware of this, and stricken with a sense of helpnessness, "What had he done? What would they do with him? “Nothing's going to happen to me, Em.” he said slowly. ‘‘l don’t know anything about his death. No one can prove I do. Don t get excited, Em. Next week it will all be over. There—” He kissed her. 4le patted her shoulder. Then he turned abruptly: “You go now'. Em, and don’t you worry. ..Go now.” v He gave her a little push toward the door. He put out his hands for the cuffs. He noticed the brightness of the metal. Next week— humph —next week. * * * Norman "Wood was attempting the defense of Douglas Keith. When finally Emma left he Bald briefly:

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"I'm going on up. I’ll talk with you a while,” Douglas felt his muscles stiff, his thought helpless with inarticulate despair. They had him. Just like Avery Middleton to switch out a light, stand at that window and spy on him. Just like him to stop at his office for a box of fruit. But they had him. No getting out of this. The worst had happened. They let him sit in a little gratedoff space for conference with his attorney. Wood looked at him. For a full minute he gazed silently Douglas’ face, “You’Ve got to explain this.” "Explain what?" "Why-—you—were there —” biting off the wards with menacing slowness, “When you arrived and where you've hidden the girl." “I explain nothing and admit nothing." “My God, boy do you realize they may ask the death penalty?" Talons squeezing at his throat: making it hard to breathe, "They can’t ask that.” “What’s to stop them?" “You say yourself they’ll not be able to show any motive.” • * * “Well, they’ve shown enough else. They can suggest the motive. And the jury may be in a mood to believe them. They'll know there's something rotten somewhere if you don't try to clear it up. No one can count on the reasoning of Jurors. You can't get by another minute with this andd —*- silence. I can't get you out of It if you won't give me the slightest cooperation. Can’t yotl explain your presence there?" “I know nothing of Worth's death. How he came to it or when or by whose hand —nothing." “But you were in his office when ho died or immediately afterwards, That's proved. Why were you there?" “I've never admitted I wna there." “You don't need to admit It, And I'm not going to hang you by denying It, Every Juror In that box is now certain of your proaence. Why Were you there? If you're guiltless you can answer. What am I to tell them when the prosecution winds up the case on Monday? “You’ve got two or three days between you and a verdict. A few days between you and possible death sentence—at the best life Imprisonment. “Listen Keith—did the woman kill Worth?” "She killed him, didn’t she? And you want to shield her. Juries acquit women—pretty women. Have you considered this? The only penalty she’d get would be a slight smudge to her reputation. After nil is her reputation worth your life?” Douglas stared moodily at the cement floor, *T haven't anything to eay.” “And she killed him?” “I've told you the absolute truth, Wood. I don't know how Worth came to his death. I believe he shot himself. "And you’re going to risk your life rather than tell what you do know? Well, think it over. ®on't fool yourself on what the Jury may do. Face the worst —death —hanged by the neck until dead. The best Isn’t much better. Life in a place .like this—a stinking hole like this — a convict for life. You’re 25. I’ll come around in the morning.” * * * Five-thirty. Locked in his cell, small space, six by eight. Dismal yellow light from the low power electric bulb wavering through the bars. Conners, his cell mate, lay on his cot. His was the lower berth. He chewed tobacco and leaned over to ppit on the floor. Glanced up to say: “Smatter, kid? You look done. Going against you?” A big wad of the tobacco went spattering to t.ho floor. v "For God's, sake—keep it in your face!” Conners grinned: “ 'Scuse me. kid. Not used to ritsy society. Sorry you’re feelin’ low. Don’t give up the ship till it heaves you into the sea. I’ve'seen fellows get out of awfully tight jams.” Douglas took up a book. He sat on a bench and leaned against the iron door. Two days between him and a verdict. Face the worst—death penalty.

Three cells from theirs there was n fellow sentenced to swing. Wait ing here now on appeal—waiting in a fury that made his eyes always bloodshot; In an anguish that made him walk up and down the tanks with little, speedy jerks of his whole body. Caught redhanded just after he'd shot a policeman. Waiting to be hanged. Waiting for the rope—have It looped about his throat, the black cap pulled over his face. A moment’s pause—the last moment of life. Then a body plunged rudely and with bitter shock through the air; Jounced down so the neck would be broken; otherwise the gallows turned to a shambles; do it neatly—have his neck broken. The warden and the prison doctor kneeling—the doctor counting the pulse, twelve minutes, perhaps thirteen—dead. He felt nauseated. They wouldn’t find him guilty. How could they? He'd never be sentenced to death. Too many unexplained angles. "Twice he crossed the room. Twice I saw his face with startling clearness. He crossed the room, stooped down as though leaning over something or searching for something.” Yes. leaning over the body of Ramon. He was there when a man lay dead. The jury knew this. They would want to know why. And if he couldn’t tell them they’d believe he must have some guilt—guilt enough to warrant life imprisonment. Guilt enough for them to order him walled up for the rest of his life. He becoming a convict—sharing a cell years and years—striding—tobacco juice spattered on the floor. Locked up in a vault every day from 3 o’clock till 8 the next morning. ♦ * * That jury of twelve men could do this to him —to him, a free, guiltless human being—a fellow who loved the sunlight and the air, who liked swinging a tennis racket, who liked pretty girls and dancing and music, who went so jauntily of a New Year’s Eve or a football day. It wouldn't happen—lt couldn't happen ... not to him! He began 1 to pace the cell—three steps then j about —turning round

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and round. He thought of the solace he gave his mother ... "Nothing’s going to happen to me—ln a "week it will be over ... all over." Now she shuddered. All over— And then of Norman Wood’s words: "It’s her reputation against, your life.” Yes, Sandy’s happiness —Sandy's reputation sending him to prison for life—for his whole life. She went down there that night to Ramon. Why did she go? If only she hadn't gone. Sending him to prison for life. / He went to the grating and tried to get a cool breath of air—suffocating in here. Suddenly he thought of Judith—remembered her eyes filled with tears—Judith’s lovely violet eyes. And suddenly he remembered the New Year’s Eve when he kissed her at midnight—how white she grew—and how he flushed because of the unexpected sweetness in Judith’s lips—dear Judith —all those walks they had taken— He held the bars, finding his hands appallingly wet and shaking.., Saturday morning his attorney conferred with him. He said: ‘‘Well —you’ve decided to speak? It doesn’t matter—l've decided it for you.’’ (To Be Continued) Marriage Licenses Charles E. Strother 22. 1906 Ruckle, paper hanger; Violet Duncan. 18. 1201 N. Denny. James Davis. 64. 900 E. Eleventh, salesman: Rosealie Bullis. 60. 614 Emerson. Lucian W. Bugbee Jr.. 27. 4170 Guilford: Hattie J. Pritchard. 24. 2877 Sutherland. Samuel Lawrence. 22. 46 Madison Ante..

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

salesman: Olra Benn. 20ft 1140 3. Illinois, stenographer. Walter A. Driver. 60. 1601 Madison. Telia Tharp. 63. 1601 Madison, domestic. David K. Enlev. 24. 1940 Valley, dryer; Virginia R. Grigsby. 19. 1940 Valley, housekeeper. Carl L. 9tader. 27. Columbus. Ind-. telegrapher: Dorothy Wood. 27. 1439 Broadway, stenographer. Arthur C. Johnson. 26. 2146 N. Illinois; Fern Winsloy, 23. Y. W. C. A. housework Charles E. Ohne. 29. 4002 Cornelius agent; Jessie B. Taylor, 26, 1116 Broadway, inspector. Charles Wiggins. 40, Laurel. Ind.; broomniaker; Catherine Ike. 36. 2252 IS. LaSalle. William J. Hurst, 26. 1222 Ashland, clerk; Helen J. Meehan. 30. 734 N. Pine, stenographer. Hallie L. Burns. 22. 512 W. Thirteenth, porter: Ora L. Baldwin. IS. 1004 Garfield. Everett N. Stehman, 30. Twelfth and College, printer; Lena Allen, 27. 3022 Fall Creek, secretary. Thomas McClury. 38. 766 N. Mlley. la borer; Octavia Looper. 40. 766 N. Miley, housework. Milton R. White. 31. 333 N. Liberty, laborer; Freida R. Rains, 30, 119 S. Kitley. Ben Gartin. 38. 2318 Manlove. laborer: Mary A. Woodson. 38. 719 Center. John L. Blish. 25, 9eymour, Ind.. miller: Frances Hogan. 20 3103 N. Meridian. Harry G. Buokbee. 26. 1716 k. Illinois, machinist; Vessie B. King. 18. 4043 Rookwood. Otto E. Morris. 60. 1302 Tabor, clerk: Charlotte M. Bell. 41. . R. 6. Box 206. housekeeper. Lawrence Leach. 23. 953 Elm, painter; Laura Belle. 23. 1526 Pleasant. Raymond Liggett. 19. 830 Harrison, candy maker: Alice Patton. 17. 1306 Har-' lan. connector. Levi R. Imblev. 65. 1138 8. Keystone, painter; Mao Spurling. 63. 1138 8. Keystone. Claude H. Hardy. 28. Lexington. Ind.. farmer; Lela B. Sutherland. 20. Hanover, Ind. John R. Turner. 27. 1545 Cottage, clerk. Mae C. Townsend. 19. 1245 Naomi. Oscar D. Irving. 20. Peoria. 111., trader; Thelma Crossley. 20. 42 N. Denny. James E. Proctor. 21. 729 N. Tremont. dver: Nanew B. Hollingsworth. 18. 1068 W. Thirty-First, cashier. William Taylor. 24. 1809 Mill, laborer: Ruth Watkins. 18. 1322 Lafavette. Kenneth O. Lake. 21. 1237 Central, hosiery mills; Lena I. Jones. 20. 1241 Central. stenographer.

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