Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 191, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 December 1928 — Page 10

PAGE 10

OQ/ieStortf of a Modern Moon Goddess r ~7^2/'C^J^arwr RCH I D set

THIS HAS HAPPENED ASHTORETH ASHE, venturesome little stenographer, has had a most unpleasant experience on shipboard. Ashtoretli, on a cruise to the West Indies, has been the innocent cause of a fierce quarrel between her roommate-—MONA DE MUSSET, and JACK SMYTHE, an Englishman. Ashtoreth goes to the boat deck with Smythe, who has warned her that he proposes to kiss her. Then from the shadows steps Mona dc Musset. Mona. In a wild fury, denounces the Englishman. And tells Ashtoreth that he makes love in order to "put it in a book—and sell it.” She swears that he made love to her—and then published the tale of their amours , The vehemence of her tirade choked her, and she stopped for breath. She put her handkerchief to her mouth, and when she took it away there was blood on it. Ashtoreth persuades her to go down to their stateroom and sends for the ship's doctor. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXI WHEN Ashtoreth came in Mona had slipped into a crimson smoking jacket and was propped on her elbow, rouging her lips. She had a gold-backed mirror in one hand, and in the other a little silver pot of ruby paste. “Now, Mona, you know the doctor said you shouldn’t so much as raise your arms,’’ scolded Ashtoreth. “Give me that stuff this minute.” Mona daubed unconcernedly with her long forefinger. “I look ghastly,” she explained. “I put on my mouth. Then I go to sleep.” Ashtoreth sat by the side of the berth. “Mona,” she said. “I’m awfully worried about you. The doctor says you’ve had a little hemorrhage, and he wants you to stay in bed until your temperature goes down. If it isn’t normal by the time we reach Gaudeloupe, he says you shouldn’t try to go ashore.

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Chief of Detectives Maguire made a painstaking survey of Crystal Hathaway’s bedroom, pocketed the pathetic cards which the girl had enclosed in boxes of yeilow roses sent to herself by herself, with the pretense that they cams from “Pablo Valencio,” and made detailed notes on the clothes which Faith told him the girl had evidently packed in her suitcase and taken with her. “Now —what does Crystal Hathaway look like?” Maguire asked Faith briskly. It was Cherry who answered eagerly. “Not very pretty, Mr. Maguire—though the newspapers will remedy that! Straight brown hair, which she kept marcelled. It must look a sight now if the kid- , napers haven’t supplied her with curling irons—” “Cherry” Faith reuked her sister angrily. Then, to Maguire, her voice quivering: “Crystal is not

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“You’ll have to stay right in your berth until we get back to New York. Then you’re to have your lungs X-rayed. I don’t want to frighten you, or anything like that, but—honestly, Mona —you must be very careful.” “It’s so hot!” she complained, and tossed the sheet aside. Ashtoreth pulled up the covers. “Be good, Mona,” she admonished. “You’re to keep absolutely quiet, and stop throwing things around!” Mona reached for her hands as she smoothed out the sheet. “You grieve for me, ma cherie?” she asked. “ ‘Grieve’? Oh, no,” exclaimed Ashtoreth hastily. “There’s nothing to grieve about. You’re not dangerously sick or anything like that.” “Non?” The Frenchwoman raised her expressive brows. “I have tuberculosis of the throat, ma cherie. And now, maybe, I have it of the lungs also. Doctors in Paris—they tell me I have not long to live. a a a MONA!” KJ Astoreth caught the sick' woman’s hands to her heart. “The doctor did not tell you, eh?” “No—oh, no!” “Maybe he does not know.” . . . Mona sighed . . . “Maybe he is what you call a horse doctor. But the doctors in Paris they know. And they tell me.” Ashtoreth’s heart beat madly. She was shaking all over. “I don’t believe it!” she cried. “It

an unusual type, Mr. Maguire. I thing she might me called a typical American girl—almost pretty, bobbed brown hair, marcelled, with a side part; large, expressive hazel eyes ” “Her best feature,” Cherry interrupted contritely. “Crystal really has lovely hazel eyes, if she’d let them rest a bit. Oh, I don’t mean to be catty, but I think Detective Maguire wants a really helpful description. “Her eyes are large and wide, very round, and she uses darkbrown mascara on her lashes. She took the mascara as well as the rest of her makeup kit with her. She uses quite a lot of rouge—that or-ange-tinted kind, with geranium lipstick.. Detective Maguire grinned at, her. “Height? Weight?” he inquired of cherry. “Five feet three inches tall,” Cherry replied promptly. "And she weighs about 118 pounds.” “Any reason to suppose she committed suicide?” Maguire almost snapped at Faith. Faith blanched. “Suicide? I don’t understand. If she’d—killed herself, who could have written the ransom letter?” Maguire explained impatiently: “Got to consider every angle in a case like this. Some crook might have seen her do it or found her suitcase afterward, and decided to capitalize on her disappearance.” “But—” Faith began feebly. “I’d rather you went a bit easy, Maguire,” Bob protested. “We’ve been up all night, and my wife is almost prostrated with grief and anxiety.” Maguire closed his notebook with a snap ana returned it to his pocket. “Sorry to distress the lady, but this is a serious matter, Mr. Hathaway. “A girl’s body was found by some fishermen in the Marlboro river, just below the dam, this morning about 5 o’clock. She was still unidentified when I left headquarters to come here, but here’s the description ” “•Bob!” Faith cried out faintly and slumped to the floor. To Be Continued.

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couldn’t be, Mona. You’re too beautiful!” The French woman smiled. “I have lived,” she said. ' And I have loved. lam net going to be old.” She smiled again, and shivered. And they were silent for a while. Then she said, “The fire of my life burns low. It is a light that will go out sometime, like all lights everywhere.” She drew Ashoreth’s fingers to her lips. “I am not afraid,” she whispered. “I like the dark.” Ashtoreth was trembling violently. A horrible fear obsessed her. As if death had come cn stealthy feet across the shining sea, and entered, unbidden, their little cabin. She seemed to feel its presence. Mona lay on her back now. There were bright spots on either cheek, burning redly. And her eyes were blazing blue. Her skin was hot, and very dry. Presently she dropped her lids, and remained so still that Ashtoreth thought she slept. Ashtoreth stood up then, and went to the porthole. She saw the moon on the water, making it so magically lovely that there seemed nothing real anywhere about. The night was full of beauty and mysticism. And Ashtoreth’s spirit was troubled with vague imaginings that had never come to her before. Mona’s Swinburne lay, open, on the couch. Ashtoreth took it in her hands, and saw that it was open to the marked passage she had read the night before: “From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free . . a a a MONA opened her eyes. “You love poetry?” she whispered. Ashtoreth was almost afraid to trust her voice. It was so charged with tears. “I don't know very much,” she confessed . “I—l’ve been reading ing this one you’ve marked. It's awfully brave.” Mona seemed to rouse herself. “I found a little poem,” she said,* speaking with slight difficulty. “It is called ‘To a Certain Gentlemans.’ I would like to send it to Meester Smythe. It is in the little drawer under the mirror.” She motioned toward the washstand. Ashtoreth found it between the sticky pages of a book of stamps, under on of Mona’s big powder puffs. “Read it,” whispered the sick woman. And Ashtoreth read aloud: “It may be so, Rood sir, it may be so. Not all who sin are tempted—that we know! It mav be darker things than this are true, And yet, upon mv soul, if I were you— A man, no longer young, at peace, secured From all that tempting women have endured Os poverty and ignorance and fear And joy that make youth terrible and dear, If I w-ere you, before I took my pen And wrote those words to hearten other men. And give them greater sense of moral case In the long score of common sins like If I were ’ you, I would have held my hand In fire— Ah, well; you would not understand"’ “Did you write it, Mona?” exclaimed Ashtoreth incredulously. “No—non!” Mona shook her head weakly. “I am not clevaire, ma cherie. I can not write what is in my heart. I find it in a magazine, and copy it. A lady by the name of Madame Alice Duer Miller write it. Read the last again, s’il vous plait.” Ash toreth repeated slowly: “ If I were you, I would have held my hand In fire— Ah, well; you would not understand.’ ” “Non,” murmured Mona. “He would not understand.” Ashtoreth folded the paper. “And you want Jack to have it?” she asked. Mona nodded. “Put it in an envelope, and ask the steward to give it to him. Day after tomorrow we reach Antigua, and he goes.” a a a ASHTORETH spoke decisively. “Well, I shan’t as much as speak to him again, my dear! I never heard of such a mean thing in my life. But, Mona, are you absolutely sure it was you he was writing about? “You heard him deny it. Mightn’t it have been a sort of a composite woman? A conglomeration, you know, of all the women he has ever known?” Mona shook her head. “It was I,” she insisted. “I know, ma cherie.” Ashtoreth was intensely curious. “I never heard of the book,” she remarked. “Was it popular Mona?’ 1 “Popular?—oui—so-so.” Mona’s blue eyes flashed. “You will hear of it. It Is to be a cinema. I ’ave been asked to play the part of the bad womans. I tell them all no.” “Who asked you, Mona?” “A movie mans in Paris. He ’ear about me, and he see me also. He was one of the big fat mens from Hollywood. Ashtoreth thought that was very exciting. “Mr. Smythe must have sold the movie rights then,” she surmised. “And I suppose some other girl will have the part. I should think you'd have just loved it, Mona! Have you ever been in pictures?” The effort of conversation had tired the sick woman. She moved restlessly. “In Paris—oui,” she said. “The movie mans wanted me to have my voice tested for the talkies. He said I talked like the girl in Meester Smythe’s book.” “What was the name of the book, Mona?” Mona looked at her sharply. “You ’ave not heard,” she questioned, “of ‘Pariah-Girl’?” Ashtoreth shook her head. “ ‘Pariah-Girl’—no. I don’t think so. . . . Doesn’t ‘pariah’ mean outcast?” Mona sat up suddenly in bed. “Outcast!” she screamed. “Mon Dieu.” And she beat with her closed fists upon her breast. Her nostrils dilated. And the pupils of her eyes disappeared beneath her lowered lids, so that the whites showed frighteningly. She raised her voice in long, sobbing wails. And tore her hair. (To Be Continued)

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THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

The twentieth century brought into prominence two Scott working eastfigures destined to win immortal fame by their achieve- jward from the foot of ments and heroism in Antarctica. The first was Cap- Mount Terror on Ross tain Robert Scott, one of the great Devonshire line of Island, along the great seamen. Scott had been a weakly boy. His diary tells barrier, found anew land us he had to force himself into strenuous work, having which he named King 'had an inclination to be lazy. ■-* / l, Edward Land. NEA, Through Special Permission of the Publishers of The Book •< Knowledge. Copyright, I>2>2y y

OUT OUR WAY

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NOTHING but L S WELL, IF IT’S ) / BUT tF \ f NOT THAT 6W. Sttt JUST MAKES TROUBLE, TROUBItA (P EACE AM’ QUIET fWE COULD \ / SAD MATTERS \aIORSE. I NEVER TROUBLE' JUST N'WANT, N'OUGHTA ONPt FIND \ SA\N SUCH A HOODOO' WHV, UVE WHEN I’M* CRAVING, /BE SATISFIED. WE JADA, BOV 1 . \\ MINUTES AFTER SHE'D COME.THEfD PEACE AMD QUIET, ( HAVEN'T ANITHiNI, l BET SHE’D I (HAVE US FACING DAWGOMED IF WE )T 0 DO SOT 1° J OSF i 6ET US OUTA J V,-.- 1 j DON'T GET IN J SET IN THIS CELL VIrIERE- .S U 3 ■//Jv\ , ' to*—■' j (| mo. u. s pat. orr. p ias. ■> mi swvicr inc _

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The party proceeded over dreadfully rough Scott wintered in Me- gerous. ice for 370 miles due south. One by onH ' Murdo Sound. In spring, dogs died, slowly but surely the food supply 1902, Scott and Ernest Then Shackleton was sickened by scurvy anand Shackleton set out on the had to turn back. Scott’s venture, however, had^| first freat sledge journey a way to reach the South Pole itself. l south. / V „ „ .. (To Be Continc^^^^^H V .<) Syiop„>. Co P> lIM, Th, Cl., Sottaly. , 188

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BRAUcM

.DEC. 31, 1928

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