Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 120, Indianapolis, Marion County, 9 October 1928 — Page 8

PAGE 8

CHAPTER XXXIX (Continued) “But the harm’s done! Oh Craig, can you ever forgive me?” , “Forgive you, you poor darling! But I’ll. wring his neck—l swear I will. Dragging the baby into it this way. He ought to get shot. It’s the rottenest thing in the world Heaping insults on you. The dirty, lying ...” A man came down the street with a camera. A huge, heavy thing that dragged one shoulder down. “Excuse me, Mister, can you tell me where the Thornes live?” “You’re from a paper, I suppose?” The man’s quick intelligence took in the situation. “You said it,” he agreed, and hastily slid a plate into his camera. “I thought so. Well, I’m Craig Newhall, and the young lady is Miss Thorne. The little boy is hers. Now if you click that camera of yours, I’ll smash it to smithereens, and every bone in your body with it.” CHAPTER XL THE photographer grinned goodnaturedly. “It’s all in the day’s work, Mr Newhall. It’s my bread and butter, popping off celebrities and criminals and such. But the job’s not worth the chance in a case like this. I should of taken you from across the street, and asked questions afterward. I'm John Dumb for sure.” He shifted his camera to the other hand, raised his pleasantly, and took himself off. Then he skirted around back ways, approached the house from the side, and succeeded in getting a picture that was subsequently captioned: “Thorne Home Where Lovely Bride Remains Virtual Prisoner.” Tad brought home more papers when he came to dinner, and the family council that evening was divided between wrath and moans. Sybil put her mother to bed with a sedative, and Craig mixed cocktails for medicinal purposes. “You shouldn’t have started it,! Sib,” complained Tad. “She’s been right all through,” j defended Valerie, stoutly. And Craig, his face flushed dark- ■ ly, was ominously silent. In the nursery, when she crept in to kiss Teddy good night, Sybil found her mother, crying softly. “Thank God,” she sobbed brokenly, “your poor father didn’t live to see this day.” The injustice of it hurt Sybil more than any of them knew. Bitterly resentful, she scorned defense. “If they weren’t blind as bats,” she told herself fiercely, “if they weren’t too selfish to think of anyone but themselves, they couldn’t blame me so. Infatuation isn’t a sin. It isn’t wrong to marry a man. 1 didn’t do anything wicked . . . and you’d think I was a moral leper!” , Fiercely she crushed and tore the newspapers and gx-ound them on the floor beneath her heels. “Oh, it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair!” a u a NEXT morning there were more stories and an entire page in the Boston Telegraph devoted to pictures. . . . Sybil in a swimming suit. Sybil in a ball gown. Sybil at the Horse Show in a riding habit. . . An old photograph of Craig from the Harvard Year Book. . . . Richard Eustis “especially posed for the Boston Morning Telegraph.” . . . And a picture of Valerie, sweet and lovely in her wedding gown. . . . There were photographs of the “palatial home of the Thornes,” and their summer place at Wianno. “Oh my God!” groaned Tad. Valerie surveyed the heap of papers distastefully. “I wouldn’t look at them,” she said, and pushed them away. Then the Gazette’s red headlines caught her eye. “Crandon!” she cried. “Oh, Sib, look! ” Across the top in glaring headlines was meat for Gazette readers. “Sybil Thorne Psycho Analzed,” screamed the crimson type. And below, in smaller letters, “PRIMITIVE EGO MAKES TROUBLE FOR BOSTON GIRL “Science Explains Emotional Unrest of Society Women "Claude Crandon Contributes Searching Analysis of Mental Conflict. Then followed the story: “Claude Crandon, Boston's foremost psycho-analyst, interviewed last evening by .a reporter for the Gazette, threw new light on the sensational Eustis divorce case. Dr. Crandon, well versed in psycho, discussed at length the so-called ‘Primitive Ego’ of Mrs. Richard Eustis, better known as Sybil Thorne. Mrs. Eustis, according to the doctor, is the victime of her own ego. “In order to put the case plainly before the lay mind, Dr. Crandon has prepared the following statement exclusively for readers of the Gazette: ...” Valerie held the paper in both her trembling hands and read aloud in a high pitched voice. Shrill words tumbled, one over another, from her horrified lips. With an oath Tad clutched the paper from her shaking fingers. “Here, let me see it. The old—my God, I’ll kill him for this, Sybil! The obscene old trout!...” Mrs. Thorne, before the great silver coffee service, cowered like a frightened thing. “Did he say,” she quavered piteously, “anything—anything—about —the—the—about Sybil’s love life?” Tad scanned the column. “ ‘Love life’—well, I’ll be— He certainly did. Say, Ma, how much of this stuff did you spill?” Tad turned furiously on his mpther. “Oh, Tad!” she faltered, and her little hands fluttered helplessly "Oh, Sybil! Children, I’m so sorry I-I-” Then the little hands were still And the dim blue eyes, veiled in tears, were glazed and dreadful lgoking. “ “Tad! Mother’s ill.” •

SYBIL flung her arms about her mother. “There, there, darling. It doesn’t make a bit of difference. I.’s simply comical! Honestly, dear, I think it’s funny. I don’t mind a bit. . . . Tad, carry mother into the drawing room. . . . The big red chair, Tad. / . . And we’ll give you a nice cup of good strong coffee, darling. . . . and you’ll be ail right in a minute.” Tad lifted her as though she were a child, and Valerie brought pillows and a foot stool, and when they had made her comfortable, they tried to make her laugh. “Can’t you see what a joke it is f ’ demanded Sybil. “The man never saw me in his life. He doesn't know a thing about me, really. Let me read it to you, dear. It’s simply a scream!” But Mrs. Thorne waved away the lurid sheet with her little fluttering, blue-veined hands. “Oh, please,” she begged,'“please. That dreadful, dreadful man! What can I dof’ Tad stood on the hearth rug with his feet wide apart, and his hands plunged in his pockets. “I guess, ma,” he predicted gloomily, “you’ll have to take up churchgoing. Ministers are a good, safe lot—though they may be a bit dull But these quacks—gosh, ma, you’ll simply have to lay off.” Valerie drew the purple afghan closer about her mother-in-law’s narrow shoulders. “Poor Mother Thorne!” she whispered, and kissed the soft gray hair where the part lay pink and broadest. “Tad’s joking, dearest.” Sybil glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Eight-thirty!” she cried. “And court begins at nine. We’ll have to hurry. Do you feel up to it, mother —or had you rather stay right here, and rest?” “Up to it!” Mrs. Thorne put a hand on each ax-m of the big red chair. “My dear, I feel like anew woman. Do you know what I’m going to do?” She raised herself to her feet and surveyed her children with quiet dignity. “I’m going to sue that man. I don’t know exactly how it can be done, but I’ll see a lawyer today. There must be some law for the protection of a client or patient in confidential consultation. Maybe he is practicing illegally. There will be some way of getting at him. I’ll sue him for sloo.ooo—and attach everything he’s got! He thinks I’m nothing but a neurotic, silly old woman. I’ll show him, children!” Laughing, they crowded about her, to pat her shoulders and kiss her faded cheeks. “Get my hat, Val,” she commanded briskly. “It’s lip on my bed. dear. And hurry up or we’ll all be late!” a a a EVERYBODY, it seems, was in court when they reached there. Dolly Weston rushed up and kissed Sybil effusively. The Moores came to shake hands—Jack and Mabel—quietly confident.

THE NEW n a. AQ am mv\ gii rif n ByJlnneJlustin ©J9i2B^NEAsn!via,roc.

Somehow that Thursday evening date with George Priutt wasn’t going off quite so gaily as Crystal had planned. Maybe he was a little disgusted with her for having refused to tear up Vera Castle's letter about Mile. Eloise Dumont. He’d told her to write Vera, hadn’t he? Then why be so oqueamish when Vera revealed the fact that Mademoiselle had been fired from Bradley. So it was rather a relief when Tony came charging noisily into Faith’s house, by way of the hospitably open front door and straight into the dimly lighted sun parlor. “More light, neckers, more light!” Tony demanded with mock disapproval. Then, as George obligingly turned on another lamp, “Thanks! I just wanted to sje how George Pruitt looks when be blushes! I’ve never seen you blush, darling. “But then—you've never made love to me! What is wrong with this picture?” and she took an exaggeratedly coy pose before George “Never mind Tony, sweet-!” she laughed, as George started to rise gallantly and prove that there was nothing wrong with the charming picture that Tony made. “You know why I love you. George Pruitt? Because you’ve never made love to me! Now puzzle that out while I break some sad news to Costal. . . Darling,’ .‘he cried dramatically to her chum “Peg’s got the party bug something awful! “That social secretary, Miss Gi'osvenor, put ideas into poor Peg’s fuddled little noodle, and Peg insists that she’s got to ‘carry on’ socially—oh, not the way you mean. George! . . . ‘Carry on’ is one of Miss Grosvenor's British expressions.” “But what’s the bad news?” Crystal demanded, making pretty gestures of suspense and excitement—for George’s benefit, for she realized that, as always, Tony, quite unintentionally, put her in the shade. “I think it’s good news that your mother wants to have a party. For you?” “That was her original idea, to sort of offset the tea invitations for my fluke engagement. It broke her heart to have to cancel them. “But I simply couldn’t see a party for myself in the old Tarver homestead, built in the year of our Lord 1928. So it’s going to be a Peg and Pat party—evening. Bridge and ladies’ magazine refreshments and dancing. “Radio. Peg wanted to hire a small orchestra, so as to be absolutely correct, but I told her it's the thing now to dance by rhdio. It isn’t ‘correct’ any more to swank and that society editor, who calls herself ‘Society Butterfly,’ has made it quite plain that the nouveau riche Tarvers must be very humble and know their place, if Stanton’s cream is to tolerate them at all. . .

Mrs. West, garrulous and excited, put her arms about Sybil and pecked Mrs.- Thorne. Groups of smartly-dressed women bowed when they passed. Girls with whom Sybil had gone to school reached over the backs of the courti-oom benches to clasp her hand. Mrs. Grayson bowed serenely from across the room. There were a great many strangers and a number of intimates. Most of their casual friends had the good breeding to stay away, but there were a number of women with whom Sybil had a bowing acquaintance. They seemed engrossed with remote objects when Sybil glanced their way. Some of them craned to look out the windows. a a u Others were absorbed in contemplatioix of the throngs that crowded through the corridors to the courtroojn door, where a court officer in a blue uniform with brass buttons refused further admittance. Reporters at the press table asked questions of one another eagerly: “Who’s that shaking hands with her now? Mrs. Grayson? Did you see the dame with the lorgnette high-hatting her? Those are Vincent Club girls talking with her now. . , . Say, this looks like a mass meeting of the Four Hundred. . . . There’s Newhall coming in. . . . This may hurt him politically. . . . That’s her brother. . . . Well, they're all giving her the glad hand. . . . Oh, no, they're not. She’s been getting a flock of icy stares. Plenty of snubs, I'd say. . . . Pretty tough, isn’t it?” a a a WAITING. Waiting. What was the delay? Where was the defendant? The judge, stern in his black gown, frowned and fidgeted. That was a court officer he had beckoned to the bench. There was a whispered conversation. The judge—like an old woman digging a handkerchief out of her petticoat pocket—fished in the folds of his robe. Glared belligerently at his watch. Restored it to his pocket and settled his heavy skirts modestly about him. Where was Richard? Mr. Peterson leaned toward Sybil. “Neither your husband nor his attorney are here. The judge may dismiss the case.” Commotion in the corridor. Excited whispers. Something had happened. One felt it in the aii of that stuffy courtroom when the door swung open and a court officer, fumbling at his brass buttons hurried to the judge’s bench. The judge leaned forward, cupping his ear with his hand. Nodded gravely and sat for a moment silently. •‘Mr. Peterson.” Mr. Peterson approached the bench. “Mrs. Eustis, will you come here, please?” (To Be Continued) (What has happened? Tragedy in the next chapter—tragedy and a tea party.)

Though the Lord knows we aren't nouveau riche or any other kind of riche. “Anyway, Cry 5, Peg’s going to throw a party and she wants you and me to stand by—little rays of sunshine, refreshment waitresses etc. Are you game?” “I think it's just dear of her to want me!” Crystal said with gen- I uine warmth and gratitude. “But i Tony, just one request from your fellow ray-of-sunshine. “It’s going to be a middle-aged crowd, isn’t it? . . . Then I move you get your mother to invite Mademoiselle Eloise Dumont!” “Are you crazy?” Tony demanded indignantly. “No—just cunning. I’ve got a deep-laid scheme,” Crystal told Tony, then glanced challenging];’ at George Pruitt. (To Be Continued) BANDIT PEDALS AWAY Uses Bicycle to Flee With SSO From New Mt. Pleasant Store. I\i) Times Special PORTLAND, Ind., Oct. 9.—Authorities of Jay County and others in this section of Indiana are searching for a bandit who ro dwaeaynoisW for a bandit who rode away on a bicycle after a holdup. The pedaling robber escaped after obtaining SSO in a holdup at Harshman & Son general store in New Mt Pleasant. He covered Mr. and Mrs. Earl Harsshman with a sawed-off shotgun. As he left the store to mount the bicycle he threatened a small boy who drew a toy pistol out who with a number of playmates was unaware of the holdup. MAIL BOXES GO DOWN Youths Use Bumper of Auto to Level Posts. Bn Times Special ANDERSON, Ind., Oct. 9.—George Arnold, 18, and Chauncey Weddle, 18, have obtained leniency on the plea of a postal inspector after knocking over posts on which fifteen mail boxes were mounted. The youths paid damages to farmers owning the boxes. They used the bumper of an auto in which they were riding to knock down posts. Each is under suspended sentence of $25 and costs imposed by City Judge C. B. Salyer. Centennial Celebration //,v Times Special GREENFIELD, Ind., Oct. 9.—This city and Hancock county will celebrate their 100th birthdays with a program here Wednesday. One of the features will be a parade of school children of the city and county. Rabbi Garry August will be the principal speaker.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUK WAY

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FRECKLES AND IIIS FRIENDS

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SALESMAN SAM

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i HE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

Wilson, in 1912, was feared as too independent by i ifH many party leaders, but had a host of firm friends at The new administrathe Democratic convention. He was nominated only tion at once revised the after a bitter struggle, on the forty-sixth ballot. The tariff and currency laws. Republican party was divided between Taft and Roose- An exposition at San velt, and Wilson received 435 electoral votes to 88 for Francisco celebrated the L Roosevelt and 8 for Taft. W’9 opening of the Panama NEA, Through Special Pcrmisaion es the Publiahare of The Book of Knowledge. Copyright. 1923-26. Canal.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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' Trouble arose with Mexico over the ill-treatment of*” The seventeenth American citizens by bandits and we came very close amendment, making to war> There was no regular government in Mexico ' United States senators at the time, and American bluejackets were sent down elective by the people in- t 0 p ro t ec t Americans. General Pershing headed an exstead of by legislatures pedition into Mexico in pursuit of the bandit Villa, who l*came part of the Con- had raided American properties. (To Be Continued)

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SKETCHES 81 BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRALUHEK

OCT. 9, 1928

By Ahern

—By Martin

B\ Glosser

Bv ( i"'ne

By Email

By Cowan