Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 190, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 December 1928 — Page 11

DEO 2f‘. 1928_

OGfte Stortf qf a Modern Moon Goddess r ~7sy'C > *2saTurr fl chid

THIS HAS HAPPENED ASHTORETH ASHE, adventurous stenographer, becomes involved in a dramatic affair on shipboard. Ashtoreth is taking a cruise to the West Indies and has encountered two particularly interesting people. MONA DE MUSSET, with whom she rooms, is a mysterious lady of exceptional beauty, who possesses rare charm and priceless pearls. JACK SMYTHE, an Englishman, Warns Ashtoreth against Mona, and declares that the girl is notorious. Asheloreth is naturally shocked, but Mona has been so kind to her that she declines to sever their teiei friendship. In a few days Mona lave left the ship at the island * *lOll pc. a French possession in Wm tidies Ashetoreth resolves to treat her as usual. Smythe. who has already kissed Ashtoreth once, persuades her to go on the lonely boat, deck with him. And there he makes love in a fashion utterly new and thrilling for Ashtoreth. Suddenly, from the shadows, a woman approaches them. It is Mona, who turns on Jack in uncontrollable fury. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XX. *‘'\TOW, Mona.” I\ Jack Smythe spoke soothingly, as one humoring a recalcitrant child. He even touched her shoulder. “Don’t you Mona me!” she cried. And drew away as though his touch had burned her. “You—you—'" “No scenes!” he commanded curtly. “And you’d better get out of this, you know. It’s none of your business, Mona.” Her dark skin was livid with fury and her nostrils quivered with excitement of her unleashed emotions. “Easy now,” he cautioned. “Easy!” she hissed. There was something dreadfully primitive about her sibilant fury. Smythe turned to Ashtoreth. “The woman seems determined to make an exhibition of herself,” he said. “Perhaps, Miss Ashe, you had better go below.” But Mona had snatched Ashtoreth’s wrists. “No!” she ordered. “She’ll stay here.” The Englishman had grown very pale in the moonlight. Philosophers say that the superior man can find himself in no situation in which he is not master of himself. But there is no superiority born of man to rule the fury of an angry woman. And no one, assuredly, had ever mastered Mona in a rage. Smythe’s poise seemed to increase her agitation. Now she wheeled on Ashtoreth like a virage “I told you,” she cried, “that he was a bad mans. He made love to me, like to you. And then he put it in a bock—and sell it. People buy his book to read why I go wrong. And he make money.” The vehemence of her tirade choked her, and she stopped her breath. She put her handkerchief against her mouth, and when she took it away, Ashtoreth saw' that there was blood on it. “Mona!” she cried. But the other girl shrugged impatiently. Ashtoreth shuddered. “Please,” she begged, “don’t be so excited. You've made yourself ill. It’s awfully dangerous, Mona—blood in your mouth, like that. It might be from your lungs, you know. A hemorrhage. tt tt a MONA moved indifferently to the rail and put her arm about Ashtoreth. “It’s all right, ma cherie,” she whispered. Her voice had grown weak, with exhaustion or fright. “A short life and merry one, mon petit | chou.” Smythe cleared his throat. “You ought to see the doctor, Mona.” he declared. “If you will go to your cabin, I will ask him to attend you immediately. It’s suicidal, you know'—taxing your strength this way. My God, you ought to get yourself under control!” Mona laughed mirthlessly. “Swine!” she retorted. Smythe looked at her coolly, and I turned to Ashtoreth. “Mademoiselle,” be observed, **seems to imply that—” But Mona cut in hotly upon his imperturable humor. “Guff!” she shrieked. “Please, Ashtoreth,” he besought, ‘take her down with you. She’s simply killing herself.” Mona swallowed with difficulty, pressing her fingers against her lips. Her color had faded, and her skin

THE NEW Saint-Sinner ByJlnneJlmtin cs2B^KA.snwa.mc.

Chief of Detectives Maguire lisened, with many curt interruptions ut no apparent surprise, to the tory which Bob Hathaway had to ell of his cousin Crystal’s disapearance. The page torn from the Monday iition of “The Morning Star” was anded to the detective. “Hmm! Pretty damned clever!” e approved, as his eye quickly ok in the ringed words, joined by les, to indicate their sequence iuess this squib on Fall Clean-up eek’ gave them the hunch aboir e garbage can. “Never saw a neater ransom letr. Now, where's the envelope? Ijretty clever. I'll bet there fingerprint on „he whole outI’ll take it to headquarters postmarked Beamish —that’s ; town about seventy-fiv.: •om here—October 1, 9 p. m. s us something to go anyinything else? What’s this ice chief tells me about a Mexican farmhand you wer? traced last night?” and Bob flushed, but Bob ;d truthfully and fully, usin Crystal had been hintny wife and her chum, Tony that she was being pressed *y a foreign artist, boarding country near here. r gathered he lived near my -in-law’s farm—the Nils place, you know Miss Tarld Mr. Ross investigated ly and found that Crysta tually acquainted with and en seen a number of times young Mexican farmhand. Mendoza. tal had said her sweetheart’s as Pablo Valencio. Mendoza ared from the Graysor irm, where he worked, someluring the night, Sunday or early Monday morning.

had taken on the tinge of old parchment. ‘You know ze frenzy of my blood,” she told him calmly. “You—so smug! So self sufficed!” "Please Mona—dear.” Ashtoreth pleaded brokenly, dangerously near tears. The scene had completely upset her. and she felt overwhelmingly sorry for the girl. “Please.” she coaxed, “come down to our room. I’m so worried about you. Please come, Mona.” n u tt r y , HE Frenchwoman put her hands J. behind her on the rail. “In one little moment,” she promised. “But first I must tell you—so that Meester Smythe will hear—” “But I don’t care, Mona! It doesn’t make any difference. You can tell me anything when you feel better. If he’s been your sweetheart, Mona—and you’re hurt, dear —I shan’t ever see him again. I swear.” Ashtoreth drew' Mona toward the companionway. “My sweetheart!” . . . Mona laughed. “I have had plenty of sweethearts, ma cherie—and some t have loved. But I spit on Meester Smythe!” She spat. “I hate heem!” she said. “Listen, Ashtoreth—the woman’s orazj'.” Smythe spoke placatingly. “If she’s trying to make you think I—” Mona laughed in his face. “He put me in a book,” she repeated, “and sell it. He call me ‘poor girl’—and pslam-sing through his nose.” “I wrote a book,” explained Smythe. “Mona imagines that it was she of whom I wrote. It was published last year. And Mona seems to have been considerably incensed.” “He make love to me,” insisted Mona stubbornly, “and put it in a book—to make money. Now he make love to you . . . and put in another book.” Smythe’s mouth tightened at the corners. “That’s absurd,” he declared. “I refuse to discuss it any further. You’re utterly preposterous, Mona. I’ve told you already that your imagination has simply run away with you. You're talking like a fool.'' “I talk to him before,” explained Mona, “when you go to bed, ma cherie. And I make heem promise to keep his hand off you. He promise—and I say, ‘Very well—then 1 shall not tell.’ ” “And then,” flared Smythe, “you came sneaking back from shore, to spy on us!” “I do it to take care of Mademoiselle,” explained Mona, quite unruffled. “She is one good girl.” “You’re a great one to take care j of anyone!” Smythe turned on his heel. “You can’t even tike care of your- I self.” “No?” Mona’s voice was soft again, and throaty with that curiously thrilling quality that Ashtoreth had noticed the first night. “1 take very good care of myself, Meester Smythe.” “Oh, yes,” he retorted brutally. “You flower in flame!” MONA touched the long pearls that hung from her ears, and lifted the triple string of pearls around her neck. She shrugged her shoulders. “You do not hate me, ma cherie?” Her eyes were soft now, with a cobalt-blue tranquility. And she smiled her luminous smile. A little sadly, a little wistfully. Ashtoreth kissed her pale cheek .sw’iftly. “No, Mona,” she said, “I do not hate you. Poor, poor Mona.” Tears sprang to the Frenchwoman's eyes. “I have known,” she said, “bad •womens who understood good womens. But never before a good girl who w'ould forgive a bad girl. You are very kind, ma cherie.” She turned mockingly to Smythe. "Maybe,” she suggested impudently, “Meester Smythe can write another story—for the American oublic, and their cinemas. A story about a bad womans, like a raging

No one knows exactly when, or what his movements were. “Os course you can find out. But the Dallas, Texas, police chief wired last night, in antftver to oui chief’s inquiry, that Mendoza was alone on board a train bound fov Mexico. He must have left Stanton or some station in the vicinity not later than noon on Monday and Crystal did not disappear unti’ Monday afternoon. “As I told you, she came home while my wife and the maid were out and packed a suitcase with about half her clothes.” Maguire nodded. “Might have been planning to join him, leaving on the next train to avert suspicion. You’ve checked the railroad stations, y'ou say?” Bob spread his hands in a hopeless gesture. “We did everything we could think of, except to notify the police, and the ranson ‘letter’ made us afraid to do that. Crystal did not leave Stanton/ or Darrow by train. “That seems pretty certain, and Miss Tarver and Mr. Ross questioned the interurban people. The conductors know Crystal. She made a trip to Grayson's and back Monday morning, but no one, at least that we’ve talked to so far, saw her after she got off the interurban or before she returned to it for her homeward trip. If she saw Mendoza Monday morning, we don’t know about it. I hope to heaven that is the explanation of her dit appearance and that the ransom letter is a crooks’ scheme to make money out of her elopement. “But if so—why didn’t they come for the five thousand? God knows I played square with them?” (To Be Continued.)

fire. And a little good girl, lLce a white flame, eh? And a mans who made love to them both.” “Come, Mona,” begged Ashtoreth, drawing her to the stairs. They went to their cabin and Smythe remained on the boat deckwhere they left him. Ashtoreth rang for the stewardess, and persuaded Mona to lie down. Then she went herself to find the doctor. He inspected Mona’s bloodstained handkerchief gravely, and took her temperature. “Eeet is nothing,” she insisted. But her temperature was 104. The doctor examined her lungs, tapping sepulchrally. “I have what you call ze adhesions,” she told him. “And you do not realize what that means?” he demanded sternly. “Mais oui,” she told him serenely, “I am content.” (To Be Continued! Many talks of life and love in the next chapter, and Ashtoreth hears the philosophy of an outcast. SUNDAY SCHOOL LESSON The International Uniform Sunday School lesson for Dec. 30. Review of the Quarter's lessons. Paul, the World Christian. Golden text: Phlllpplans 1:21. "For me to live is Christ.” BY WILLIAM E. GILROY, D. D. , Editor of The Congregatlonalist f’AN the last Sunday of the year when we are looking toward the past and reviewing the year’s experiences there could be no better theme for study than the review of the life of Paul. If we can look back over our own experiences in the light of his ex perience and can find some impulse to improve our lives, we shall find the best possible means of meeting the new year. But the greatest element in that is the positive inspiration that we may find in the courage and determination with which Paul viewed his past and ever turned from it to look to the future. Paul had in his past life, as all of us have had in ours, some things that he would greatly have wished to alter. He had the consciousness of always having been sincere and honest in his motives, but his heart had not always been open to the influences of kindliness and love, and his very honesty and intensity had made him a persecutor. Our Own Past Probably most of us cannot look i upon the past with such a good conscience. We know that in addi- j tion to our ignorance and our un- J enlightenment there has been gross j folly and weakness, of which we | can be only ashamed. But might I we not very well adopt Paul’s motto I of progress? “Forgetting the things j that are behind I press toward the mark of the prize of my high calling which is the God in Christ Jesus.” It is a very human story that we ' are reviewing in the life of Paul. His courage and his power of endurance mark him almost as a superman, and his ultimate influence in history places him among the most powerful men who have lived. But the greatness of Paul is essentially the greatness of a man. In every phase of his life it is the human quality that is emphasized and magnified. He was pre-eminently great because simple verities and virtues so supremely dominated his soul; and if he had immense abilities, greater than everything else in him was this dominance of his life with spiritual passion. He stands in history as the example of what a man may be in whose character and career love and graciousness have been permitted to dominate in every way. Strength in Weakness If there is one clear strong teaching that comes from Paul’s life, it is the teaching that he repeatedly emphasized—that strength may be made perfect in weakness that God may take the weak things of the world to confound the things that are mighty, and that he may use the things that are not to bring to naught the things that are. No verse, perhaps, in all that Paul wrote better expresses the full sweep of his faith in the gospel as a power for human life than his declaration that “if any man be in Christ he is anew creature; old things have passed away; behold all things have become new.” Paul, wi are inclined to believe, would hav? laid much emphasis upon the word “any.” The power of God was not in hi” thought something that reached its greatest manifestation in those who were of worldly greatness. He thought of it rather as a great force of which even ordinary men might become the medium. It was this faith in the gospel that made Paul so democratic in his outlook and in his religious activities. He was as ready to preach the gospel to the slave as to the master, to the common soldier as to the centurion because he believed that God was no respecter of persons, and that God could choose the lowly for the accomplishment of his highest ends. Democracy We live in an age that is familiar with democratic conceptions. Here in America, particularly, we are wont to say that one man is as good as another. We are so familiar with this democratic idea that we are apt to forger that in the broad reach of the world's history it is a very late idea and one that has never had much expression either in theory or in practice; or if it has had rather definite expression in the past, it has been in a very .limited way as a mere glimmering c f hope that too often was snuffed out by darkness and the arbitrary power of those who feared the light. It is all the more remarkable, therefore, to find Paul 1,900 years ago affirming in the most definite way that God is no respecter of persons. It is a profound tribute to Paul that we judge him almost entirely by our modern standards, and it is a revelation of his greatness that in so many things he thoroughly stands the test.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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buuib and iiEit Buddies

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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

' The last great venture into Antarctica in the nineteenth century was that of Carsten Egeberg Borchgrevink, a Norwegian seal hunter. Like de Gerlache, Borchgrevink wintered in the Antarctic. During the ; winter Nikolai Hanson, descendant of the Vikings, died. He had asked to be buried “beside the boulder on ths l of Cape Adare.” *- \gy N£A, Through Special Permission of the~>Jbliher of The Book of Knowledge.' Copyright, 1923-26^

Ey Ahern

jf'il Three men started digging through the ice *or a grave but made little progress and finally blasted.

OUT OUR WAY

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NO! when) WELL.IT SEEMS SAV mom BID NO,BUT WHEPES AMY? E'D ALL \ EDDIE TOLD HIS VOU HEAP / DONT TELL ME YOU'VE (.THIS HAPPEN) WIFE HE was ABOUT EDDIE ( GONE OFF AND LEFT —1 ? J-A GOING TO SEE A V/HEELEM 1 HER SOME VLACE-YOU l sick friend but forgetting 1 talk about people *1 V INSTEAD he- HIS ALIBI TO / FODGETTING THINGS -A v 1 ) HIS WIFE ? / FINE ONE VOU APE TO rtftA V s. . -S v. LEAVE ANY RESPONSIBILITY

The dynamite revealed a buried glacier which must have been there, unmelting and unaltered, for centuries. , V ji-wV

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BBALCIIEB

SSS®P IW Borchgrevink’s party were the first to witness the j arrival of the penguins, the only creatures that endure I winter in Antarctica. They met millions of them where I they had marched inland over the ice. For fourteen k days and fourteen nights the strange procession went on through the bleak wastes. (To Be’ Continued) and Synopses. Copyright. 1928. The Crolier Seenl

PAGE 11

—By Wiilia ■I

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