Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 17, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 June 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

SABSDY

*■ SANDY MeNEIL. in lore with life, jnarii-s BEN MURILLO, a rich Italian -to please her impoverished family. Ty‘lansy by Murillo and frequent quarrels folow. A son dies at birth. BOH McNEtL. her uncle, aids in plans for Sandy and her mother to take a trip to Honolulu. There she meets RAMON WORTH who declares his love. Murillo savs he will never release her JUDITH MOORE a cousin, tells Sandy love is everything. Sandy leaves Jlurllo and a< cents the kindly, attentions of Ramon, whose home she shares. When iter mother dies she leaves Ramon and i-oes to live with her cousin. Judith. DOUGLAS KEITH. the man whom Judith loves introduces his frieud. HAL HUME, a doetor. to Judith. He timself falls in love with Sandy, who .rno.atts ids affection. This leaves Judith lieart-broken. Sandy meets Ramon Worth who lias returned from the One nt. and she tells Douclas of Ins return. Tliev plan to run away together. Th' da.v before. Sandv sroes to Ramon's office at his urgent request. He shoots Sandy and commits suicide. Sandy is taken to Hal Humes shack when it is learned that her name is connected with tin 'scandal. Then Douglas is culled before detectives, who learn that ne was at Ramon's office on the dav of the suicide. Although Douglas denies any part in tTIe shooting, he is taken to jail and indicted for murder. Judith determines to tell what she knows of the afla.r but finally promises Dougfas she will not tell Sandy. The trial nears conclusion and a prosecution witness testifies to seeing Douglas in Worth s office just after the time of the murder, with a woman, apparently wounded, m Ins arras. Douglas refuses to break his silence. 60 ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER CXI Nothing can force him to talk. He looked up and asked: “What Mould you do, Hal, in my place? What could I answer, Judith? I’d do what he's doing. So would you.” "But she could clear it. I'm sure he could clbar it 1 .” Judith and Hal Hume standing over the stove in the kitchen of the hunting shack. Saturday evening—the Saturday after Avery Middleton had testified. Judith’s eyes were sunken. She lifted the poker idly and shoved the red coals. “You say his attorney is hopeless, I lat ?” “He hasn’t any hope of acquittal now. The most he can expect is a disagreement. Besides, a theory is gaining ground—you know the way these rumors fly about in a murder trial—the theory’s gaining ground that Douglas shot them both. He was waiting for the woman. Every one believes now there was rivalry between the two men over a woman. And Douglas was waiting for her. She didn't show up. In a state of frenzy he went to 'Worth’s office — found the two of them together—shot the girl first and then killed Ramon. You see, they don't know who owned the pistol. That’s the theory now. They believe the gir) was only wounded—was able to walk. At that, they’re more likely to believe she has since died and that he killed two. More likely to believe this than that he killed .none.” • * • . Judith stirred the glowing coals. 'Tie asks a great deal of us if he thinks we should be silent through this.” “That’s what he asks. He told me to remind youwof your promise.” Then Hal Hume went in and sat at Sandy’s bed. She slept, but she

TIRED, ft TENDER®: FEET- (gT JUST take I your shoes off i \ ™ and then put \ j those weary, \ / shoe-crinkled, j / aching,bum- I yours in a “TIZ” bath. Whenyourfeetfeellikelumpsof ■ lead all tired out just try B “TIZ.” It’s grand—it’s glorious. | Your feet will dance with joy; 1 also you will find all pain gone | from corns, callouses and bunions. I There’s nothing like “TIZ.” I It’s the only remedy that draws j out all the poisons and acids I which puff up your feet and cause | foot torture. A few cents buys a box of “TIZ” at any drug or department store—don’t wait. Ahl how glad your feet get; how comfortable your shoes feel. ■B Bathe Them in TIZ P

More A energy"/ vlill increase your earning ability

IT is the red blooded people who | win success in this world! Red, !>loo*d gives men and women the vi-! tality —the energy the strength and the activity to earn what they deserve! Nobody can do justice to themselves when they are suffering for j want of rich, red blood. It is this | impoverished condition of the blood that causes so many failures in life. There’s no place at the top for the weakling the men and women with poor, weak bloed. Build up your blood! Get in the red-blooded class —and get the rewards you deserve. S. S. S. will*do it for you! S. S. S. helps Nature build millions of red-blood-cells! S. S. S. sends rich, red blood tingling to every fibre of your body and every pore of your skin. You are fairly radiant with energy, vim and vitality. You’ll look like success, too! The rich, red blood that S. S. S. helps Nature build for you will clear your skin f of any ugly blynishes [ ] youreyeswill IjjJ / sparkle with enthusi- \ asm —firm, solid flesh will round out your - figure strength and power will come to weak, flabby muscles. „ All drug stores sell S. 3. S. The r bottV* i? -more economical.

by ELENORE MEHERIN, Author of “CHICKIE”

turned uneasily, her cheekc flushed. Hume watched her. His face had a very enxious look. “Keep her quite Jude.” “You’re alarmed about her?” “Good God, I’ll be glad when this is over! The only out I’ve got as far as she’s concerned is the certainty that she's better off here, where it's quiet and she's not likely to hear of things, than she could possibly be if she were to be robbed of her peace of mind. She has fever again. Don't let her get excited.” “I can't keep her quiet. She wakes in the night, tormenting herself with questions. Why was this —why was that. She thinks about her husband and the way she allowed herself to be sold into marriage, not loving him. She thinks of their terrible life* together. You know one night he nearly killed her. She thinks about that. She thinks about her little baby and the way it died —the way they brought it to her, dead. And she held it—she felt its hands. They were so cold. She goes through all this. ‘Then she thinks of Ramon —the way he died. And all these things are at her door. She asks why. It's awful. “And she keeps begging for Douglas—where is he? Why doesn't he corie? At least he could write! "She lies there with her hand* over her eyes. She thinks he’s just left her. I can see the tears running to the pillow. She says. “I’m glad }ie’s left me. It's better for him. I'm going away. As soon as I’m better. Judith, tell him I'm going away. And maybe he’ll come and see me just once. Just once more... ’ ” Judith kept her head down, ashamed of the tears stinging and under her*lids. They dropped "on her clasped hands. She looked up to Hal Hume with a wavering smile. “I never used to cry. used (o be the hardest thing. But now—” He took his handkerchief and wiped off Judith’s hands. Without looking at her, he said: “And of all of us, it's hardest on you, Jude—liardest on you—” • * • That right Judith moved her couch /.ear the fireplace. She couldn’t sleep and lay staring at the little gold-magneto flames. How energetic they were. The shade at the open window kept tapping. It worried her. She would doze a little. Then the shade tapped and awakened her freshly to scenes—troubling scenes and images. The image of Douglas with his fists bound and held so bitterly before him—handcuffed. Then the way he stood with his back to her, his brown head pitifully lowered—stood there behind the grating and wouldn’t look around. The image of his cell —one of the [ topmost cages reached by that narnow iron stairway. He, too, would be lying awake —hearing the officer on the bridge—that high bridge up near the ceiling—the officer walking back and forth. Once a prisoner had climbed up the grating—up and up—swung himself across the iron bars —reached the window—let himself down the outer walls. An incredible feat. But a man penned up like an animal—locked in long, stifling hours—a man compelled to walk with his hands chained before him —Douglas compelled to eat with his fingers... .Such men risk desperate odds. His whole life in prison... .Judith sat up now, leaning forward, her arms hanging limp at her sides. His whole life in prison. And she would go over to se9-\him on visitors’ day • * * He would woik in a jute mill. She had read stories of men in San Quentin —frightful stories —meat thrown on the tables in troughs as though pigs were being fed. And oace a prisoner reached in with his fork and pulled out a rat cooked with the stew—and the men ate the stew— She now buried her face, attempting to shut out the image of Douglas sitting at such a table. But she sawthis image—saw his fine, hazel eyes somber and embittered; saw him push his plate; saw him blanched and crucified. And she prayed stormily; “Oh God—no! Almighty God.” Then there came an image of him when he would hi good-by—good-by to poor little Emma, leaving her , alone in the kitchen; good-by to Ju j dith. And he would go across the ' bay between two officers, hat ! slouched over his .face . . . .” Judith got up, wrapped an <#ld lounging robe about her. She leaned on the mantel, her face pressed against the cool bricks . . . “Jude—Jude, is that you standing there? Or only a shadow. It’s you, Jude—” .* * * Sandy’s voice went stealing along Judith’s nerves—sweet, appealing voice—the little throaty laughs vanished. She went over softly—stood quietly at Sandy’s bed, touched Sandy’s cheeks. “Would you like something?” “Yes—sit hereC’ Sandy reached up a thin hand. In the dim, wavering firelight it looked a white, waxy lily. She tucked it in that childlike way of hers in Judith's. “Sit here, Judy. Oh, how good you are! And all I’ve done is bring you pain. I wonder how much?” Judith winced". Isn t it strange, Jude, for you and I to be here in this mysterious way?” “Yes, it is strange.” “And what does your mother think?” “She’s in Sebastopol yet. That saves the whole thing. I write to her and she never notices the postmark. And I’ve told Maud that we had an automobile smashup' near Eos Angeles, and that we’re staying in a little mountain retreat. You see I sent the letter by Hal and he brought me her answer. He explained this by saying his mother is ill and he goes every week-end south to see her. She thinks it's a bit queer, but I don’t have to explain to her." “If Alice knew! If they should find out —oh, but I feel so far away from them all—from every one but you, Jude!” Sandy turned her fingers and scrutinized them as a baby does. She nursed hr {J.os Vlnollv she smiled.

/ (PAW 60 Ml 'Tt TH Ar SS A PACT/Tbo T|• B> f THAT'EL B 6 fVLL |$ TtflVSt SO?) ( * I "N _a like Tfc see Some gov get presh- wart Proka yoo, 'J= LeT

OUT OLTv WAY— Bj WILLIAMIS

l/U IVU JLtl fXI X X'J W* - __ ~ _ ~ r - y / \ IfSif AVteN,*u. PO Non GOv/efcnoß* ~ ~ /lasT, BoTsegoud\ fWES, i'n/e coMt\ /tThiwksheX I>o MP& GAPkiBV 1 /T* KiOJE. Swov<6H.| ouThAERt-To means A BlacKm v ~ NOG U\ILL PARDOkA hAE Cl Vte PARPOKiEP / SMAUPU uccf kavJ GROW UP \Mirn SMifri SHOP. ( UU VJIUU rAN L/Ulvl l or - h \i/ paL nTM aTr-tetfsas? i \msm # , ■ vJ7 p ?'AiLliftM3 ' 1 " 01M ev MCA Mmvtct. Mfr Ui FQLv<e, MeET__BLO^soM : 4 riER-rvAE J

W TO WMSY.WS6NT YO' KNOW\ f AW.THA'S IK* SJOMK.' f >L/\ ] AlßtftOY, YOO. MAW PflC- wgn- M IM |W CHAIR iOS- \o MUCT.IT NEUAH l DIONT KNOW TOU 6000.CCMMONSIWSS — H- A f

R&s wav a cop= r~tt~7 rr Xu utc a v t j ,i,, w 11C f wifi i ... . J/ c a. J . ev imc. > / |

"I wanted so to be loved, Judith, and in ill the world there's only you who cares. Yes —only you. Isn’t this a strange way for a person's life to end?” “Oh, your life’s not ended.” “The joy of it is. I wonder how I chanced to go the w’try I old. Judith, isn’t it rather cruel that we have no sure way—no light along our path—none at all — “Ah, you don’t answer, Jude — you just stand there and I can see sorrow in your face. You think I’m to blame . . . that I went wrong from the beginning—l let myself be shoved into things . . . Wasn’t it a fatal error? If I’d have known I didn't want marriage then —that degrading kind of marriage . . . I should have known what I wanted —had some kind of purpose—some kind of goal. If anyone had held up a torch that would have shown me mysel’f . . . and I wouldn’t have fallen for Isabel's hypocrisy. That’s all it ijvas, but she didn’t know it — Isabel gave me nothing a decent person could accept . . . and I Just floundered about, having notjiing better within myself . . . “Oh, Judith,, say something . . .” “You say you want a light along the path—but what difference would it make? Would that have brought you surely tc happiness?” “I know what you mean! Ah, Jude —you had a light . . . You always stood out for the best you knew, and what do you get and what ('■> pet? AU r,f

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

me? So, no one goes wrong alone . . . I dragged you frith me . . .” Judith stooped down hastily and kissed her. She raised Sandy and for an instant put her arms about her. “You’ve been crying, Jude.’’ N “You make me cry. I’m glad to be here with y0u.... I do love you, Sandy—” Then Sandy said: “If he would come to see me just once,, Jude — just once. Will you give this letter to Hal? I have it under my pillow.” Judith took the letter. She stuck it in her pocket. Sunday, she didn’t give it to him, knowing that he’d have no chance to pass it to Douglas. Monday morning Sandy saw the co?her of the envelope sticking out from Judith’s pocket. She stared at the corner of the envelope. She swallowed hard. Judith didn't give the letter! Judith wasn't giving her letters! At 10 o’clock Monday morning the woman who came for their laundry went down the walk, the bundle under her arm. Judith was in the kitchen. Then Sandy raised the window at her bed. She beckoned. She handed a letter to the woman. She sai-J stealthily: "Please mail this for me—” and slipped a dollar in the woman's hand. The old woman glanced at the address. Her eyes bulged. Then she threw a swift, accusing look at Sandy—- “ The young murderer! Why are writing to him? What's a nie

SALESMAN $AM —Bv SWAN

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

FRECKLES AND lIIS FRIENDS—Bv BLOSSER

girl like you writing to a murderer for?” Sandy clenched the window sill. She said, smiling blankly: "A murderer! Oh—oh —” (To lie Continued) Gone but Not Forgotten Automobiles reported stolen to police belong to: Saunders System, 311 N- , Pennsylvania St.; Chrysler, 591-115, from Cleveland, Ohio. f Abo Silverman. 1309 N. Pennsylvania St.; Buick, 24-019, from that address. Clement Martin 118 W. Thirteenth N St.; Overland, 176-676, from Speedway. v , A BACK HOME AGAIN Automobiles reported found by police belong to: Joe Lynch, 1338 Kappes St.; Ford, found at Oliver Ave., .bridge and White River. William Vollmer, 770 N. Pershing, Ave., Nash, found at Souih and Henry Sts. E. J. Snyder. 660 S. New Jersey St., Hudson, found at Stee’s Lane anc: Holt Rd. More than 2,000 busses are now in use in Canada.. Many of the provinces employ busses to transport ocßrv-q I’hiidren.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

Hoosier Briefs

When J. E. Mann of Jackson became so ill he was unable to do his spring planting, neighbors invaded his farm and planted and plowed twenty-five acres of corn for him; twelve tractors, thirty-four horses and twenty-five men made short work of the task. Hferbert Boyd, residing near Newcastle, was knocked unconscious when he accidentally touched the fance which bounds his farm. A live wire, carrying 2,300 volts, had fallen across the fence. Hammond police, as a rule, have no objections to “high powered” salesmen, but when Arthur '♦esthy of Chicago concluded his "sure-fire” arguments by swearing at every woman who reftised to buy the stove polish he handled, they Sledded to look him up. , Charles Thorpe, 18, of Sandusky, has been recommended by Governor Jackson for an appointment to the United States Military Academy at West Point. At Greensburg secrecy veiled the arrest and trial of six men on charges of dynamiting and seining fish. The men are said to be prominent locally and gave fictitious names to prevent scandal. Seventeen years ago Mrs .Oliver Parr-hoc of ■yinoo-rinf's lost $5. A

few days ago she received a let- tra $5 was interest and the debt ter with $lO enclosed from the finder repaid to relieve the finder's conof the money, stating that the ex- science. *

DR. W. B. CALDWELL AT THE AOE OF 0*

To Dr. W. B. Caldwell, of Monticello. 111., a practicing physician for 47 years, it seems cruel that so many constipated infants and children had to be kept, constantly '“stirred up” and half sick by taking cathartic pills, tablets, salts, calomel and nasty oils. While he knew that constipation was the cause of nearly all children’s dttle ills, he did not believe that a sickening “purge” or “physic” was necessary. ,In Dr. Caldwell’s Syrup Pepsin he discovered a laxative which helps to establish natural bowel “regularity” even If the ehlld is chronically constipated. Dr. Caldwell'S Syrup Pepsin not only causes a gentle, easy Imwel mevrtrx?nt but best of

JUNE 1,192 b

Mother! Its Cruel to “Physic” Your Child

all. it never gripes, sickens or up sets the most delicate system. Be sides, It is absolutely harmless. &n so pleasant that even a cross, fever ish, sick child gladly takes It, Buy a large 60-cent bottle at store that sells medicine and Just see for yourself.

Dr. Caldwell's SYRUP PEPSIN