Indianapolis Times, Volume 38, Number 124, Indianapolis, Marion County, 30 August 1926 — Page 8

PAGE 8

“The VANITY CASE” A Tale of Mystery and, Love By CAROLYN WELLS

SEQINHERK TODAY SIRS. PRENTISS Bc9 liKhtß mystertously appear and disappear next door in the HEATH lioueoliofu one night, and the next morning Harbor Gardens Long *? a k°? with the murder of MYRA HEATH and tho disappearance of her husband. PERRY. House guests of the Heaths are LAWRENCE INMAN and BUNNY MOORE. Inman might have a motive because lie is heir to Myra b considerable fortune, she having cut Perry off. Suspicion also points to golden-haired, vivacious Bunny, because oi her refusal to answer questions at the inquest. Myra Heath was peculiar. She never used cosmetics, never wore colors. She had a mania for collecting glass, aiirf it was a rare old whisky bottlo from 1 her "‘‘'-action that the murderer used to kill her. Candles were burning at her head and feet, and near by was a card marked. "The Work of Perry Heath." Strangest of all. she was heavily made up and dressed with gay colors. The peculiar thing about Heath’s disappearance is the fact that all windows and doors had been locked on the inside the night before and were found that way by the butler in the morning. Linger prints of Bunny Moore and Inman were found on the bottle jnd physicians established that the range was applied to Myra Heath after death. At the Country Club, the murder is discussed by SAM ANDERSON. Heath s rival for the club presidency: AL CUNNINGHAM. who is trying to solve the crime, and other*. Some believe Heath the murderer. Others, includipsr Anderson, disagree. CunningUahi learns from Mrs. Prentiss of ttja mysterious lights. TODHUNTER itCK. f,er nephew, and Cunningljan; Inspect the Heath home and Cunningham, confiscates Bunny B vanity case. Buck has fallen in love with Bunny and believes her innocent. He goes to the funer.-, parlors and finds Cunningham and DETECTIVE MOTT. VOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXI The two greeted him with grave and serious faces. On a table between them lay an ornate and elaborate vantiy case, which Buck instantly believed to be. Bunny's missing property. It was of gold, and to the main box were attached various and sundry dangling little boxes or phials, all hung by gold chains. “Here you are, Mr. Buck,” and Cunningham plunged at once into the matter; “this is Miss Moore’s vanity box. I took it from her bedroom. Now experts have made tests and they say that the cosmetics applied to Mrs. Heath's face after she was dead, might have been from this box —” "Might have been!” said Buck, quietly. “What does that prove?” “Only that they were not from the boxes belonging to Mrs. Heath herSftlf, That, so far as we know, there 'was no other available vanity box in the H?ath house last night. An examination of “the , servants’ belonging shows only some inferior mar terials. That this box shows op its surface the finger prints of Miss Moore, only—no others. And nfi, we are forced to the conclusion that, quite apart from the murder, the making up (ft Mrs. Heath’s face was done by Miss ♦Moore. This in itself is, of course, no crime, but added to iche fact that Miss Moore’s finger prints were on the bottle that was used as a weapon, we can’t ljelp feeling that Miss Moore was in some way implicated in the matter, if only as an accessory or an observer.” "You think so?” was Toddy’s noncommital reply. “We do,” was the response from Detective Mott, himself. "And if you are interested in a proof of It, utay here a few moments longer. I have sent for an important witness, and if you choose, you can listen in.”

So Toddy stayed, and it was not Jong before Emma, the waitress from the Heath home, appeared. She, was the one who had seemed simple and honest at the time of the inquest and Mott greeted her kind- , "Well, Emma,” he said, "we ve sent for you, because we think you know more than you told at the inquest.” f"Yes, sir,” said the phlegmatic and imperturable young woman. Mott didn't quite know whether her response was one of acquiescence or merely acknowledgment of his remark, but he felt his way slowly. "You do know a little more, Ehima?” he said, ingratiatingly. "Yes, sir,” was the stolid assent. "Well, tell it.” Mott was getting impatient. "Tell what, sir?” But suddenly, Emma seemed to get scared. “I —I don't know anything, sir!” she half breathed, her eyes getting big with fright and her voice trembling. Mott pursued his advantage. “Yes, you do! Now, out with if Do you want to find yourself in the station house? Tell me what you saw, when you came downstairs to let Katie in!” “I told the gentleman, sir, that I saw nothing." “I know you did. And you told a lie! Now, do the best you can to repair the slip of your tongue. What did you see? Or whom?” "I —l saw—" Emma hesitated, but her interlocutor gave her a prod. "Out with it now! It will be far better for you in the long run, if you tell the truth. You saw somebody—who was it?” "Miss—Miss Bunny, sir.” "Yes, of course, I knew that!” This was mendacity on Mott’s part, but he knew how to treat a girl like Emma. "What was she doing?” he went on. "She —she was going upstairs, sir." "Going upstairs, was she? Alone?” “Quite alone, sir.” "Did now Emma—did she have this vanity box in her hand?” “Y—yes, sir," Emma faltered. "Are you sure?” Toddy Buck broke in. "I believe this girl will assent to anything you suggest!” “Are you sure, Emma?” Mott repeated. "Yes. sir, I'm sure,” Emma said, "because I heard it jingle as it hit against the stair rail. Oh, sir, I WHICH WOULD YOU CHOOSE? If some good fairy should appear, as they did in the old fairy tale* and offer to grant your heart's desire, what would you choose? Wealth? It’s a transient thing that brings Its own cares. Happiness? It's an elusive thing which we keep by giving away. Health? That's the best gift. Health is riches that gold can not buy, and surely health is cause enough for happiness. Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound may be the good fairy who offers you this priceless gift of better, health,—Advertisement.

hope I haven't done wrong to tell!” "No. You do wrong when you don't tell. Do you know any more? What did the young lady do next?” “That’s hll sir. She went up the stairs and into her own room and shut the door.” "And this was at one o'clock?” "No, sir, it was half past one.” i “Your a good witness, Emma.' Half-past one was what you said at the inquest.” “But it was half past one, sir. I saw by the pantry clock." “Yes,” interrupted A1 Cunningham, “and you said at the inquest that you saw no one when you came down to let Katie in. You said that the servants’ rooms are all in the back of the house—” "Yes, sir—” Emma looked distressed. “But I peeped in the front purt, through the door upstairs, and I saw Miss Moore. And I didn’t say anything about it at first —but now, I thought I’d better.” "Oh, you did!’’ sadi Cunningham. “And whose advice made you feel that way about it?” “Carter's, sir." Truly, Emma was irfgenuous. "Ah, Carter's. And why does she want Miss Moore brought into this thing?” “I don't know, sir. She just advised me to tell all I know.” "And you have done so?" “Yes, sir, I have, but Katie—she hasn't." "Hello,” Mott took up the querying, "Katie hasn’t, eh? Well, do you know what it is that Katie hasn’t told? Can you tell us as well as Katie could?” “Yes, sir." “Then go ahead.” “Why, you see, Katie is engaged to her young man, Jimmy Lomax. Well, when they two comes home, from Katie’s evening out, they don't always come right in the house.” “No? What do they do?" “Well, they—they sets in the arbor and —and spoons—like." “Oh, I see. And you wait till they’re through Nooning and then you let Katie in? You’re a loyal frieryfl, Emma.” "Yes, sir.” “Well, go on.” “Well, you see, sir, that night—last night as ever was, Bir. when Katie and Jim was settin’ quiet like in tlie arbor, he saw a man come out of the house, leastwise he come off of the verandah, and he went away.” “Went away?” sir, went down the road and out of the gate.” ”Oh, he did. And who was this man?” “Jim, he don’t know, sir. You see he was talkin’ to Katie, and he Just sorta noticed the man, unthinkin' like. He says it mighta, been Mr. Heath, and then again it mightn’t.’’, ”1 see. Well, that matter will bear looking into. Now, as to Miss Moore. You’re sure you saw her coming uju stairs at one-thirty, with this vanity case in her hand?” "Yes, sir, I’m sure.” Emma’s stolid demeanor went far to convince her hearers of her sincerity of statement, whatever the deductions might indicate. After a few more questions, which brought out nothing new, Mott sent the girl away, with strict instructions to tell no wefrd of what had passed at the interview. And so thoroughly did he threaten her with punishment, for disobedience, that Emma went off vowing inviolable secrecy.

-I- -I- -ICHAPTER XXII "You see,” Mott said, breaking the silence that had fallen, “Osborn gave me a tip about Miss Moore. A pretty serious one. He asked her a string of questions early this morning, before she had time to make up anything. Well, he asked her if she saw the two candles burning, at the head and- feet of Mrs. Heath. And Miss Moore said she did. Now, you see, when Miss Moore came downstairs, and went to the studio to look on the body of Mrs. Health, for the first time, after Carter had told her the news, Doctor Conklin was there, and the two went in practically at the same time.” "Well?” said Cunningham, as Mott paused. "Well, then the candles had gone out —burnt out, you know—but they were out. Now, Miss Moore agreed, when Osborn referred to her seeing the candles burning. When did she see those candles burning?” Cunningham looked thoughtful. “If that Emma person’s story is true,” he said, “then Miss Moore was downstairs, just before one-thirty—” “And went upstairs, with her vanity ease, at half past one,” declared Mott. “Having either been down and viewed the dead woman—or, having been either principal or accessory to the fact of her death.” He put the case so simply, and in a tone so devoid of real accusation, that Toddy Buck, at first Inclined to deny vigorously Bunny's possible connection with the crime, thought better of that, and said slowly: “You suspect the little girl, then, Mr., Mott?” “Suspect is too strong a word, Mr. Buck. But I do think some parts of her story call for investigation, and 1 think she knows more than she has told.” “She certainly does, if she was downstairs at half past one o'clock,” Cunningham said, in a tense, strained voice. “Yes, the doctors agree that Mrs. Heath died about 2 o'clock. It may be, therefore, that Miss Moore was down there, that In a spirit of fun, the two women made use of Miss Moore’s vanity box, and that Mrs. Heath was party to the making up of her. own face.” “No, Mr. Cunningham,” Mott said, “that won’t do. The doVors proved that the make-up was put on Mrs. Heath’s face after death. Os that they are certain. As to the time of death, that is not an easy matter to state positively. I have seen many cases, where the doctor has been out two or three hours in his reckoning regarding that matter. They can’t tell exactly. The best of them admit that.” "Then, what do we gather from

OUT OUR WAY—By WILLIAMS

Bp M =: S^ AH-FER r m f: DSH ji OPi : ji jWHW N\OTHERS, (StT GRAW- , BY N£A StRVICfc iWC (JR. W) I __3

GOliu. -Ib H ■THftr) — I'M GONMft -SENO Woo> OOT SELLttHGr- Nf OH BoW'.'. - (fT AS &000 <a!>\ /rr ”, IO nnWN J in “IN OIL WOO CAM A Wk£V\— "IOOF THAI j CO(riff)ls>loM AdR 0300 05 FftACN v-tOil'jF Tr, rtCkISP F/ift A uJFFK rtR Maßd icDi 1 4VEPWS IbR VOU.mtD J VOuR BANK AccoOHT Rest Woo* S f ° \’M e>TiLL UA\Tinc- r VO nPARM Woo- WG_ V 000 ANO CLorLAND H FEW Bio SALF3, i INou Vaifi *,o\ f<; Gt-T OuT rf HOOSE- \ RNC> You’ll 500N HAUL. W CL GUE VOO VO *7© ON ALL _ WO Off S S'OOR 'flo CKtT-BOOHS

f HOW MANY S'VRXKYS IS 'fe WW,^®° Y ! AH G\TS xo KNovg Ifi aSPARONOft XO OOtS TAVH l OYfX AIMT i ? YO TAWM TO H\T \~ TrtßtY STRIKE.S EYO gS - BA\ML TWENTY I ToOIG6AtAE ,YO 11 HAvn - [==fe AH IS OOT , ~ = Ki’ iFtN AN WHAMS iTouan | ? ,ANYWAY ? : COonITS fii’ Ot ONit LMVWCH CAM | [ f iHAH^^BAVJL. ; S tNCY. A<^\N, AH fa\TS I 1 _ r —COUMT VhMS -

7 SAV, VNUEE6 vn£BE ( AAi'SAV. I BET V<x> ) Vo’"B6rrEß Itci I L VOO VESTBPDAX OSCAR? ) CAMtT GOBSS VMMAT I < \ ... . - 7 I WAS UOOMIM' ALU i — y -) SAVW '?WECE-yoO ) BS7TCR / vOAy, OAJ A \ 'aVt OQ&CFORVOO fiJAV l/f _ COOL.DM7 6UESS |F \ /J? X 7HAT.'.' A yMORSE VWI7W Y W 60-DOO/OD I *A. !! .— ' \ X VwEMT TO ) Y, VA 7RI&D x BBT 1 y [% ] A <SLASS EVE AAi' ) GEE. AOVW DOES J ”! . __ ’ . ? ... .

Miss Moore’s presence on the stairs at half past one, and her denial of It?" aeked Cunningham, gravely. "That we can’t decide about, until we question Miss Moore further, Toddy Buck broke in, his young face aglow with interest. “I’ve only met Miss Moore today. You fellows doubtless think that because of her beauty, I’ve fallen in love with her. I don’t saY that I have or haven’t, but I do think she fs a helpiess girl with a lot of possible or apparent evidence against her. And, I propose to take up her cause, and carry on for her, till I find out the truth of the- affair. To imagine for a moment, that that baby-faced chit committed a murder is just too ridiculous! But a lot of hard-boiled detectives may think differently. And so, unbiased by any prejudice in Miss Moore's favor, I’m going to do all I can to see that justice is done her. That’s all.” "You're fortunate in having her finder your own present rooftree,” Mott said, a little dryly. "I am,” Buck agreed, courteously, and without a smile, "She is now under my aunt's protection, as far as gossip and slander are concerned If she should prove to be mixed up in this thing, other than as an innocent onlooker, I shall be greatly surprised. But anyway, I'm going to get at the truth if I can—” “Let the chips fall where they may?" asked Cunningham. "Yes,” Toddy said, “where they may.” \ "All right,” Mott said, heartily, “you’re the right stuff, young man.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

If jfou don’t fall too hard for the charms of the Moore Baby, we’ll find you a valuable assistant, I’m sure.” , The three men separated for the night, Mott declaring that he meant to sleep on the matter and Toddy, his young heart full of food for thought, to toss for hours on a sleepless coucn. But A1 ‘Cunningham went across the bridge, and over to the clubhouse in Harbor Park. It was not so much that he felt it his duty to report at once to his employers, but he was full of the subject and hoped to find someone at the club with whom he could talk overthings. lt*was not late, from the viewpoint of the club mem hers, although many of the Gardens bungalows were dark as he walked by. x The walk seemed short, for Cunningham had much to think about, and when he reached the clubhouse, he found, as he had thought, a good ly number of men playing bridge or billiards, or sitting in desultory chat in the smoking lounge. Os the ones who were really his employers, Cunningham found Arthur Black and Sam Anderson in confab. "Hello, Cunny,” called out the latter, “what have you found out regarding the Heath matter? We’re pretty curious about it over here.” “There are developments. ”< Cunningham returned, as he tookja seat neai''’ them, and lighted a jiigaret. Then he told thejp all he .knew 0 f

SALESMAN $AM —By SWAN

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES—By MARTIN

FRECKLES AND ILLS FRIENDS —By BLOSSER

the affair, dilating on the recent facts they had learned which implicated or seemed to implicate the' lovely Miss Moore. “Ridiculous!” cried Anderson. “That Moore Baby couldn’t harm a fly!" “Do you know her?” asked Black. "Oh, not to say know her, exactly, but I’ve seen her now and then. She came over here once in a while with Mrs. Heath for the club dances, and though I never was introduced to the chit, I couldn't help seeing her and admiring her as one would a prdtty butterfly. I'm not the sort to have to do with the youngsters, but I have a spark of perception, and if that infant in arms could kill a woman—” “Oh, Lord, Anderson,” Cunningham broke in, “nobody is accusing the child of murder, but we must admit if she was going slowly upstairs, carrying her vanity case, at half past one, she must have known something'’ “Yes, I suppqse so,” Anderson agreed. “But what I want you to do, Cunpy, is to find out who was the murderer, and to find out where Perry Heath is. I can’t help thinking the two mysteries are connected.” “Connected? Os course, they are,” Black declared. "If the little girl knows anything, she ought to bi made to tell. But the mystery ought to be solved without her help, no matter how often she ran up and down stairs.” Meantime the subject of their discussion, the uncertain and mysteri-

KAPrfdA !^^^AM / '^AAAPAMi ? N\'peAß,w\-r mV M 1 khA •giApov4‘£p a BirT ; V\QKiOR"IO j 10 Moii, Kft.-'T'ARW U I Bare "Tv^b (s\ or J \ g—■ ©4 926 CY HtA SCRVICC. fC SD J

ous Bunny, was lying in her little bed in Mrs. Prentiss’ best guest room, staring wide-eyed at the ceil ing. She wondered why Cunningham had taken her gold vanity case, and whether she would ever get it back. Restlessly she turned and twisted, sometimes getting up and sitting by the window, and again, turning on the light and trying to read. At last, as she had returned to bed. and was about to drop into a real sleep, there was a light tap on her door, and she sprang up and opened it, to see Mrs. Prentiss in boudoir cap and gown. “My dear,” she whispered, “there's a call for you on the telephone. A man’s voice, but he won't give his name. Says it’s important he should speak to you.” “Mr. Inman, probably,” said Bunny, as she slipped her bare feet into her little silk mules. A few moments later, she took up the telephone receiver, and heard, to her stunned amazement, the Voice of Perry Heath. "Hush!" he said, softly; “don’t make a row. I only want to tell you to watch your step. I can’t advise you definitely or particularly, but just be noncommittal, taciturn, uncommunicative—all those things. In other words, keep your trap shut! See?” “No, I don’t see at all! Where are you? "What do you know? Why don’t you come home?” “Never mind all that. You mind what I say, or you’ll be everlasting-

OUR BOARDING HOUSE—By AHERN

ly sorry." And with that, the voice ceased. (To Be Continued) CLARK RITES MONDAY Funeral of Aged Physician to Be at Christian Church. Funeral services were i,o he held at the Central Christian Church this afternoon for Dr. Andrew J. Clark, 76, of 624 N. Ne\v Jersey St., practicing physician here since 1893, who died at his home Friday afternoon. Burial will be in Crown Hill Cemetery. Dr. Clark received his medical education in Kentucky. He. also attended the Northern Indiana Normal School at Valparaiso. For- the last twenty-five years he was a teacher in the Bible school of the Central Christian Church. He is a member of the Knights of Pythias, at Zionsville. Surviving are the widow, a brother, S. L. Clark, Muncie, and a sister, Mrs. Issac Lamb, Marshfield, Mo. POPE • DEFENDS FAITH Writes Book During Spars Hours In Evening, Bv United Brett ROME, Aug. 30.—Pope Plus XI is writing a book comprising defense of the faith and a proof of the

AUG. 30, 1926 '

foundations of the Roman church. His holiness works on his manuscript during spare hours in the evening after long days at his regular duties and is drawing on his vast knowledge amassed as librarian of the Ambrosian library. So far no one has seen the manuscript.

d tm ' is one of many rewards of pure blood . Take S. S. S. to purify your blood—then watch pimples, boils, blackheads and rashes vanish. You can take S. S. S. with confidence—millions testify to its merits. An unbroken record of service for over 100 years is a great testimonial to a great medicine. Remember S. S. S. is made only from fresh roots and herbs.' jta&t > S.S.S.