Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 183, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 December 1928 — Page 32

PAGE 32

OUhe <Stov?f of a Modern Moon Goddess r ~7^l/ r C^J^arwr n chid mat.

THIS HAS HAPPENED ASHTORETH ASHE, convalescing from a severe illness, Is taking a cruise to the West Indies. Ashtoreth Is a stenographer—the only child of her widowed mother, MAIZIE. Maizie, a good-hearted rather commonplace woman, has procured work as a companion in order that Ashtoreth may ta SADIE I MORTON. a friend of the family, donates pretty clothes from her abundant wardrobe, and Ashtoreth sets ° U MONTY Iy ENGLISH. her ex-sweetheart, sends roses as a parting gift, and a little note to say he loves her still. Ashtoreth is rather fed up on Monty, partly, perhaps, because she seems to have roused the interest of HOLLIS HART, her millionaire employer. Mr. Hart, by the wav. had played platonic benefactor to Sadie Morton. He is mid-dle-aged. but quite handsome. And Ashtoreth knows that he has money to bUI NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER Xll—(Continued) KER boat sailed next morning, and Monty took her in a taxi to the pier. After he had left her, she found in her stateroom a great basket of fruit and three dozen American beauties. Tucked beneath their deep red blosoms was a little note. "Dearest Ash: 4 "It it’s any news to you. Sweetheart, I love you more than ever. Not that I expect you to get any kick out of that. Maybe, though, some day, you'll be glad of an adoring egg to fall back on. And here your little egg will sit and wait. Forever and forever —Monty.” CHAPTER XIII ASHTORETH shared her stateroom with an incredible woman of doubtful antecedents. Her name was Mona de Musset, and she was returning to her home in Guadeloupe. She was a tall, dusky creature, with red lips and a luminous smile. Her hair was long and very black, and she knotted it with beautiful simplicity at the back of her neck. When the printed passenger lists appeared, everybody began to conjecture about Mademoiselle de Musset. It was a coincidence that her first name was Mona, because people thought immediately of Mona Lisa, and declared that the two looked alike. "The same mysterious smile,” they said. Ashtoreth, who considered the original Mona absurdly overrated, thought her roommate exceedingly more beautiful. She wore long earrings. And her dinner gowns were the most daring ever seen. They were slashed in a narrow V to her waist, in back. And the undulating bodice extended, surprisingly, to a high neck, that swathed her slim throat like a' bandage. It was not until Mademoiselle raised her arms that one beheld the triumph of those gowns. For suddenly she looked bare to her slim waist! It was as if Vensus, pretending modesty, had tucked a napkin under her chin. Her dress that first evening was cloth of gold. On her bare feet she wore green pumps. And in her ears, barbaric jade that kissed her sleek brown shoulders. n tt tt Ashtoreth, who had been reading on the boat deck, powdered her nose when the dinner bugle blew, and hurried to the dining saloon. She was wearing the crepe de chine that had taken such a beautiful shade of brown. And, with it, Sadie’s camel’s hair coat and the little suede hat that hugged her ears. She found her place at the first officer’s table. And beside her sat Mademoiselle de Musset. The very air was charged with excitement. Married women glared at their husbands. Spinsters averted their pious gaze. And the room buzzed with the acrid comments and observations of the pure. Mademoiselle de Musset spoke cordially to Ashtoreth, and then devoted herself to the first officer. When they left the dining room she slipped her arm through Ashtoreth’s As they ascended the stairs she remarked quite audibly, “You and I, Mademoiselle, are the only womens in the room with beautiful bodies, eh? The rest—if they should

THE NEW Saint-Sinner ByjJnneJlmtin e©2B<VMASEEVKXraC-

By the time Bob Hathaway had reached his home, after Cherry’s frantic summons, the cold paralysis of horror, in which Faith and Tony had been gripped had partially passed away, and all those who had gathered in Faith's living room to try to solve the mystery of Crystal’s disappearance were making great efforts to reassure each other—except Sandy, who sat silent and scowling. “What’s this absurd story about a ransom letter?” Bob demanded. It was Tony who explained, showing him the envelope, with its pasted-up address, the front page tom from the Stanton Morning Star, and her own record of the letter’s “translation.” Bob had been determined to laugh it off, but as he listened and looked, his good-looking, tanned, young face became putty-colored. “Well!” he drew a deep breath, and glanced from one frightened face to another, until his eyes rested on Alan Beardsley. “What do you think, Beardsley? Lord, I’m stumped I don’t know what to think—” “I think the thing is genuine enough,” Beardsley admitted reluctantly. “As clever a ransom letter as I ever heard of. My advice is that you take it at once to the police—” “No, no!” Faith cried. “Look what it says! They'll kill Crystal. You won’t, Bob? Bob!” Very tenderly Bob Hathaway took his wife into his arms. “I shan’t do anything you don’t want me to do, honey. Try to get a grip on yourself. We’ll get her back, don’t you worry—” Cherry laughed hysterically. "I’ll bet Crystal is trying to vamp her way to freedom this minute. She’s figure that’s what a movie heroine would do, and —” “Shut up. Cherry!” Bob commanded harshly. “Any suggestions

lose their clothes—they would be obscene.” Then without waiting for an answer, she continued in a throaty voice that carried embarrassingly: “They look like dumb-bells run over by the express train—the good, fat, married ladies. Or drunken dollar marks, eh?” Ashtoreth felt acutely uncomfortable. She knew, with a hurrid certainty, that if she were friendly with Mademoiselle, she would have no other friends aboard. But how could she possibly snub the women with whom she roomed? She wished frantically that she had been able to afford a single stateroom. Maybe the purser would let her have another cabin. If Maizie could only see her now! Or Monty. Or Mr. Hart. Arm in arm with Mademoiselle de Musset! Mademoiselle picked up a feathered wrap and they strolled together to the promenade deck. “If we are roommates,” she suggested, “we shall be friends, eh?” She had a delightful French accent. And her funny little "ehs” were piquant and foreign. There was something at once fascinating and repellent about the woman. So that Ashtoreth was reminded of a gorgeous snake she had seen, embracing a Hindu at the circus. All shining green and gold. Weaving back and forth, sensuously. She shuddered at the recollection as she had shuddered when she saw the reptile. “Let us talk,” proposed Mademoiselle; and calling a deck steward, had their deck chairs placed together. She settled herself languidly, crossing her slim ankles and pillowing her dark head on her up-; stretched arms. Her wrap had 1 slipped from her shoulders and she tossed it carelessly across her knees. a a THE boat was still in northern waters, and the night was crisp and clear. Ashtoreth drew Sadie’s warm coat closer about her and shivered. “You’re not cold?” she exclaimed, and held her teeth together to keep them from chattering. “Non.” Mademoiselle considered the stars “The fat womens,” she said, “and alll the skinny ones—they make me angry. And so I am warm.” She sighed profoundly. “I hate womens,” she remarked and her voice had a curious qual- j ity. It was a deep, soft voice, and j vibrant with feeling. She appraised Ashtoreth critically in the light of. a brilliant; moon. “You are very beautiful,” she pronounced unexpectedly. And Ashtoreth suddenly felt childish and very stupid, having no answer to make. “So the women are also jealous of you, eh?’ pursued the other. “Jealous? Oh, no!” “You are on the stage?” inquired Mademoiselle. “Why, no.” Ashtoreth hesitated. It seemed quite unnecessary to tell this dazzling creature that she was a stenographer and worked in an office. Mademoiselle shrugged her eloquent shoulders. “Beautiful womens make their living by exhibiting themselves, it is not so? On the stage, maybe. Or they are the jewels of some rich mens. It is the same thing. And the others who can not exhibit, because they are ugly—they are jealous. But we will be friends, eh?” She reached to touch Ashtoreth’s knee. “I go,” she said, “to my home in Guadeloupe, to see who lives. The hurricane killed 600 peoples there. And I have no word. So I come from Paris to see.” “Your people live there?” asked Ashtoreth quickly sympathetic. “My friends,” said Mademoiselle; and. abruptly, changed the subject. “It is your first trip? You will love it very much. But you should have a man. Mademoiselle, to make love beneath the moon. It is too

Beardsley—Ross?” he added, turning toward Sandy. It was Alan Beardsley who answered. “I suggest' you do as the kidnapers demand—place the $5,000 in a shoe box and hide it for them in the garbage can, after arranging to have the man shadowed. Somehow it doesn't sound like an idle threat to me, and of course you want the girl released as soon as possible. Rather beastly for her—” “Naturally!” Bob agreed curtly. Then his face clouded. “Five thousand dollars! It isn’t going to be easy for me to lay my hands on that amout before the banks close today, but I’ll manage somehow—” “I’ve got' it; take your note,” Sandy Ross astounded them all by volunteering. “And I’ll do the shadowing.” Tony Tarver threw off the last paralysis of horror. “Oh Sandy! The down payment on your new plane! Pat’ll put up the $5,000. I guess Crystal’s my chum, isn’t she?” “If you’ll permit me,” Alan Beardsley began, almost apologetically. “I have the cash in bank here, for some business I’m putting through this week. It will not inconvenience me at all—” v Cherry laughed again, still with that high note of hysteria in her voice. “If poor old Crystal could only hear you boys fighting for the chance to ransom her! How much she’s going to enjoy this experience when it’s all over.” Bob ignored her, except for a scowl in her direction. “Thanks for your offer, Ross. Rather white of you. But if what Mr. Beadsley says is true—that he won’t be inconvenienced—l think I’ll fix it un with him .... Don’t cry, Faith darling. { The kid’s all right. They wouldn’t dare—” (To Be Continued.

bad to be alone.” j She gathered her wrap quickly i about her shoulders and shivered. “But you have no man,” laughed Ashtoreth. “Non.” tt tt tt Mademoiselle sat up quickly and locked her long brown arms about her knees. For a moment she stared across the dark water. Then, rousing herself, sprang quickly to her feet. “Shall we have a drink?” she asked. “The bar is open. It will | warm us.” Ashtoreth had never been in a bar before. Afraid of seeming unI initiated, she agreed. A little dubiously. To her surprise the “bar” was an informal lounge where the ' passengers sat about small tables. Some of them were playing bridge, with tall glasses at their hands. Everybody looked up when she and Mademoiselle came in. And three portly females left the room Followed shortly by two thin ones Mademoiselle led the way to the table just vacated. “Old maids!” she pronounced, her glance following them through the door. “You can always tell, eh? Because old maids are !>orn, and not made.” She chuckled quietly at her little joke, and Ashtoreth found her soft laugh delightfully thrilling. “Most womens,” she observed, “are good because they never had a chance to be anything else. And that makes them angry, ma cherie.” She called for whisky and soda, and sandwiches. But Ashtoreth, remembering Maizie’s parting admonition, declined the proffered drink. Maizie had put her arms about her and whispered in her ear, “Don’t do anything, Baby Lamb, you wouldn't want mother to know about.” * And Ashtoreth, with a lump in her throat and hot tears stinging her eyelids, had pressed her mother closer and promised, like a little child. “All right, Mums, I’ll be good.” Mademoiselle chatted inconsequentially, and began to tell risque stories Ashtoreth never knew whether or not they were really bad, because she had neither native appreciation nor training for crude jokes. But mademoiselle laughed her pretty, throaty laugh. And, when all the respectable women had left, the first officer joined them at their table. It was then that Ashtoreth excused herself. “I’m so sleepy,” she begged, “you don’t care if I go down?” “Non. Non, pauvre cherie.” Mademoiselle placed her two brown hands on Ashtoreth’s slim white fingers. “Sweet dreims, mon petit chou.” tt tt tt THE first officer laughed. “Do you know what Mademoiselle called you?” he asked Ashtoreth. “Her little cabbage!” The Frenchwoman slipped her hands up Ashtoreth’s wrists. “It is the sweetest little word I ■know,” she said. “Mon petit chou.” That is what lovers call each other in my country. It is pretty, eh?” Ashtoreth regarded the first officer superiorly. She was annoyed because he had not joined them while there were other passengers about. His arrival, she knew, had been discreetly timed. She hoped that Mademoiselle would not favor him with her entrancing presence on the deserted deck. “I think,” she informed him loftily, “that it’s an awfully cute little word.” She bade them good night and went co her stateroom. The glamour of the mysterious lady was all about. Pervading the little cabin with exotic scents and warm enchantment. (To Be Continued)

Who is the mysterious lady? Before the night is over Ashtoreth’s curiosity has been aroused- Yours will be, too—in the next chapter. ‘HOW TOUGH IS ROUGH DANCE?’ BOARD ASKS Supervisors’ Reports Leave County Authorities in Quandary'. Bn United Pres * WAUKESHA, Wis., Dec. 21.—How tough is a rough dance, and how loud do the dancers have to become before they are boisterous? That’s what's puzzling the Waukesha county board. Estimates on the general conduct and demeanor of 1,190 supervised dances ranged from “drunken mess,” “bad,” “very rough,” “very boisterous,” “rather noise and loud,” to “not bad,” “fairly good” and “not good” to “excellent.’ What the county fathers are after is a set of standard definition which will enable them to punish offenders against an ordinance prohibiting "rough, loud or boisterous dances.” DUCK FLATTENS HUNTER Gunner's Nose Is Broken When Game Falls on Him. Bn United Press WINDSOR, N. D., Dec. 21.—Nose guards may become included in the regular equipment of duck hunters if the experience of a Jamestown (N. D.) hunter becomes common. J. A. Randall had shot and killed two ducks near here from a flock which was winging overhead and was just about to shoot a third time when one of the dead birds landed on his head. The three-pound fowl broke Randall’s nose and so seriously injured one eye that its sight may be lost. BANS JAGS ON ‘HEAT’ Merchant Gets Photos of Addicts and Warned “No Sales.” Bn United Press DOVER, 0., Dec. 21.—Mayor P. J. Groh, after trying everything from stomach irrigation to paddling in an effort to eliminate “canned he,at” drinking* has issued photographs of all local addicts to merchants with instructions not to sell the liquid to them.

THE IiNDiANAPOLIfc) TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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BOOTS AND iiDii BODDIDii

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WTrrKTjFS AND TT T R FDT^NDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MON ’N POP

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THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

After the Christmas Party at his nephew's Scrooge / was up early next morning and beat Bob Cratchit, his i clerk, to the office. In fact he had set his heart upon catching Cratchit coming in late. And- so it happened. 1 Cratchit came walking softly into the office eighteen I minutes late, leaped upon his stool and started digging I furiously with his pen. n-n NEA, Through Special Permission of the Publ.shcrt of Tht Bock el Knowledge. Copyright. 1923-*y

By Ahern

Scrooge called outinj as gruff a voice as he could muster, asking what Cratchit meant by joining in at this hour ofj

OUT OUR WAY

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Cratchit, fearing the old meanness of his employer, cringed and made an excuse about making merry on Christmas Day arising late.

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BKALCHER

Scrooge called to him, and in stern tones told him that he was not going to stand for that sort of thing ar.y longer. Jumping from his chair suddenly, Scrooge gave Cratchit a playful dig in the ribs, and announced with a great chuckle that as a reward for reporting , late, Cratchit would be given a raise in salary. r j l (To Be Continued) -.vj I Sketch#* and Synopses. Copyright. 1928. The Oralt— Society. I

Ltl'.C. 21, i’j2

—By Wiiiiams

—By Martin

By Blosser

Pv Frane

By Small

By Cowan