Indianapolis Times, Volume 39, Number 91, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 August 1927 — Page 16

PAGE 16

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BEGIN HEBE TODAY VERA VICTORIA CAMERON, an efficient private secretary, consents to let JERRY MACKLYN, advertising manager of the Peach Bloom Cosmetics Cos., transform her Into a beauty. In transforming her, the beauty specialist copies a picture Jerry finds In his desk, an uncaptloned colored picture of a beautiful woman. Jerry falls In love with Vera, also known as Vee-Vee, and his affection endures although he learns she wants to be beautiful so she can spend her vacation at fashionable Lake Minnetonka. hoping there to meet SCHUYLER SMYTHE, the man sue loves. At the lake hotel, all the guests, Including Smvthe. mistake her for VIVIAN CRANDALL, ex-princess, who, after a Paris divorce. Is In hiding. Vera tries to convince every one of ner true Identity, but Is not believed. MRS. BANNISTER, a hotel guest, and NAN FOBDICK, who accuses Verjr of stealing Schuyler’s love from her, go to the city and Vera knows they will notify the Crandalls and an expose will follow. Nan's mother tells Vera she has learned Schuyler Is a salaried secretary, fouiflusher and fortune-hunter. THURSTON, hotel manager, has Vera and Schuyler watched, hoping to ingratiate himself with the Crandalls. They are on the pier at midnight when she learns detectives await her at the hotel and she and Schuyler run away In a car. Schuyler pours out his love for her. When she tells him the truth about herself, substantiated with Jerry’s letter, he Is furious, revealing his true character too plainly. Then It It occurs to him she may be tricking him, testing his love, and he tries to retrieve, but too late. She demands that he take her to the nearest town and on the way, they are stopped by two masked men In a car. Vera Is whisked away with the men snd Schuyler Is left. Vera at first thinks the men are detectives, then from their conversation she learns they are kidnaping htv. thinking she Is Vivian Crandall. She Insists she Is not the exprlncess, but to no vail. They drive rapidly to a clearing where awaits an airplane. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXX f . ] T the moment when Vera A I .Victoria Cameron, being kidLLzJ' naped as Vivian Crandall, was stepping gingerly over a stubbly field toward a great man-made bird that was to bear her aloft, she knew not whither, Schuyler Smythe was standing in the middle of the road, waving his arms frantically to attract the attention of an approaching car. The car slowed up, hesitated, then shot past him, the driver—a man with a girl sitting beside him—evidently fearing a hold-up. Schuyler stamped with rage, but there was nothing for it but to wait until another car came along. Two others sped past his waving arms and he was about to give up in despair when he made one more /ft tempt. The car—a small coupe—slithered to a stop, and a cheery male voice called out: “Car stalled, young man?” “Yes,” Schuyler answered eagerly. “Can you give me a lift? I’m stopping at the Minnetonka—out for a ride—car gone dead on me—” He was babbling excitedly as he climbed upon the running board. “Sure! Hop in! Reckon no one can run off with your car, if you can’t make it go. I’m going to the Minnetonka myself. I’m a doctor— Dr. Blessington. Got a hurry-up call from the’ Minetonka. Seems that the house doctor is off for the night. I relieve for him, you see.” “You’re very kind, Dr. Blessington.” He did not want to talk, wanted to give careful thought to the story which he would tell when he reached the hotel. There was no use trying to follow the masked bandits in the doctor's car. They had had more than half an hour start, and the doctor had just said that he was speeding to Minnetonka on an emergency call. He decided at first, in his extreme nervousness, not to say anything to the doctor of his night’s adventure, but reconsidered, in a panic. In a rapid, Jerky voice he told the doctor what had happened,’ or as much of what had happened as he could bring himself to admit. He said nothing of his own quarrel with the girl, confining his explanation to the 4>are facts of their encounter with the masked men.

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“Vivian Crandall! My soul in heaven!” the doctor ejaculated incredulously. “Why didn’t you do something, man?” “With one revolver pointing at my head and one at hers?” Schuyler defended himself indignantly. “I couldn’t take a chance on her being shot, doctor.” “No, I suppose not,” the doctor agreed. “Well, I’ll burn up the road 'getting you back to the hotel. They can send out an alarm—telephone the police of all the neighboring towns.” He bent over the wheel, his keen eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles trained on the road that the valiant little car swallowed at such a breathtaking rate of speed. Although it was nearly two o’clock when the doctor’s coupe swung into the crescent-shaped driveway before the Minetonka Hotel, the great, sprawling building was blazing with lights. Flashlights, gleaming like fireflies, were bobbing about the grounds. Voices were hallooing at each other from across the lake, where men in rowboats seemed to be dragging the dark waters on a grewsome quest for the vanished heiress. Women, in evening dress, scurried about in the lanes of light from doors and windows, calling shrill inquiries and making foolish suggestions. A group of men were conferring on the broad front porch when Schuyler descended from the doctor’s ,car. Thurston, the hotel manager, lunged toward him, seized his arm and half dragged him up the steps. “Where’s Miss Crandall, Smythe? For God’s sake, tell us what you’ve done with her? You’re the last person seen with her—” Schuyler Smythe stood blinking dazedly in the strong light that flooded from the entrance hall and from the porch lanterns. “Is this Smythe, the chap -that’s been beauing Miss Crandall around up Ijere?” A Big, frowning-browed, dark-faced man elbowed his way importantly out of the little knot of men. “I’m Barr—Detective Barr—of New York, Smythe. Detective Durgan and I came down here tonight to identify Miss Crandall and to ask her to get into communication with her parents. Mr. Crandall sent us. He got a tip this morning that his daughter were here. Now, speak up, man. Where is she?” His big hand closed in a crushing grip on Schuyler’s shoulder. “I don’t know where she is—now," Schuyler said loudly, trying to brush the detective’s hand from his shoulder. “We were out driving—” “In “So you’re the thief! Well, come on. What happened?” “I’m trying to tell you,” Schuyler retorted with injured dignity. “But you might remember that I’m a gentleman. I took your car, Thurston, because you had mine tampered with to prevent my being alone with Miss Crandall. Quit interrupting,” he admonished Thurston sharply, as the hotel manager gasped for words strong enough to express his emotions. “We’re wasting valuable time, for I came back here as quickly as I could to tell you that Miss Crandall has been kidnaped by two masked men who overpowered me, took from me the keys of your car, Thurston—” “Kidnaped! Good God!” Thurston groaned. “Quick man! Which way did the car go? What did the men look like?”

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“Here, Thurston, let me handle this bird,” Detective Barr said curtly. “Now, Smythe, pull your wits together and give us facts.” Attracted by the commotion on the porch, guests who had been searching the grounds and the lake came pouring in, the women shrilly demanding to know what happened, the men elbowing passages importantly, offering loud suggestions before they knew what had really happened. Schuyler, mopping his glistening forehead with an already damp handkerchief, told his story as rapidly as possible, giving the approximate location of the hold-up, and an unavoidably vague description of the men, due to the fact that they had worn masks. “All I can say is that one was tall and thin—gaunt, I should say —and the other stocky,” he told the detective. “About how tall was the tall one? Six feet? Six feet one, two?” Detective Barr demanded impatiently. When Schuyler had told the .detective all that he could remember about the appearance, the manner and the voices of the two kidnapers, Barr plunged into the hotel, shout, ing to the switchboard operator to put in a call for the two nearest towns as well as for New York. Detective Durgan took up the questioning of Schuyler where Barr had left off. He made copious notes on the missing girl’s costume, the exact words of the conversation that had passed between the four of them and a description of the car they~were driving. “Good heavens! Mrs. Fosdick’s sedan! It was stolen tonight from the garage,” Thurston exclaimed, smiting his right palm with his clenched fist. “It ought to be easy to trace it. She can give you a description of the car, from bumper to bumper, if the doctor can pull her out of her fit of hysterics. That’s the call that Dr. Blessington was answering,” he explained to Schuyler Smythe. “A lot of us would like to form a posse to scour the country for the kidnapers, Thurston,” one of the men guests spoke u£ eagerly. “We ought to be able to dig up enough pistols to protect ourselves--” “Clarence!” a woman screamed. “You shan’t go a stop! Those awful kidnapers would kill you!” Over the hubbub Thurston shouted: “All you people had better go to bed. The police have this thing in hand now. They’ll know how to handle it, and they won’t want a lot of amateur assistance. By the way, Smythe, how did you happen to be taking a midnight ride with Miss Crandall when you and she both knew that she was wanted in

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the ofllce? The bellboy had found her and delivered the message. It was he who told us that you were with her on the far pier.” Schuyler Smythe squared his shoulders and thrust up his chin for his big moment. “Miss Crandall and I were eloping to be married when the kidnapers captured us,” he said impressively. “Marrdied! Good Lord!” Thurston groaned. “Maybe it’s a good thing she was kidnaped! Why, you damned little fortune hunter, you—” and he made a lunge toward the younger man as if he intended to knock him down. \ “This is no time for fighting, gentlemen,” Detective Durgan said briskly. “I’m going to I help Barr with the long-distance telephoning. You, Thurston, send somebody in a car immediately to check up on this guy Smythe’s story about your car, and have another car ready for Barr and me for anything we may need it for tonight. And as for you people,” he waved toward the crowd of guests pressing, in upon the porch, “if you don’t know anything about this case, get to bed. You’re gumming up the works.” _ Half an hour later, during a lull in the storm of telephoning. Detective Barr, who was awaiting instructions from the police in New York, turned upon Thurston, who was sunk wearily in the swivel chair in his private office. “What puzzles me is how Miss Crandall got that suitcase out of her room without being observed. What did the maid say was missing?” “Toilet articles, pajamas, kimono, two or three dresses, a coat and a green felt hat,” Thurston answered, frowning with fatigue and bewilderment. "Looks like that upstart, Schuyler Smythe or Shuler Smith or whatever his name is, was telling the truth and that Miss Crandall was eloping with him. * What she could see in him beats me, but any fool woman, no matter whether she’s a princess or a pauper, will fall for one of those patent-leather-haired sheiks with a mushy line. Why, man, I had half the guests in the hotel on sentry duty to keep those two apart as much as possible.” “It’s sure been a nice quiet hotel tonight!” the detective commented

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with a chuckle. “And it’s going to be nice and quiet tomorrow with an army of reporters down here from New York. George! I’d like to know where that girl is right now! Gives you the creeps to think of it, doesn’t it? One little bit of woman flesh worth forty million dollars being dragged God knows where by a couple of East Side gunmen!” (To Be Continued) Vee-Vec, remembering Jerry Mocklyn’s promise to come for her In an alrElane If neceasary. thinks it is he that as kidnaped here But she is destined for a rude awakening.

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