Indianapolis Times, Volume 40, Number 208, Indianapolis, Marion County, 18 January 1929 — Page 24

PAGE 24

JI # s Vs ' ■'!? ’ r y v ; . ■■■ ;. .• - -3 OUhe Stortf of a Modern Moon Goddess r ~Q2/'C i te<l7u/r rx c hid dsk.

CHAPTER XXXVl—(Continued) “And that’s not healthy for Sadie. No girl living under my roof is going to get mixed up in anything that’s not decent and above board. “I told Corum I’d go straight to the district attorney, if he didn’t drop the whole business. I asked him what Mr. Hart ever did that was wrong to Sadie. “And I asked Sadie the same question. Sadie says herself he was perfectly decent all the time she worked for him. and I believe her. But this Corum—he intimated things. “Now, what I think, Ashtoreth, is this—they’re planning. between them, to dig up some dirt on Mr. Hart—and maybe it’ll be true, and maybe it won’t. “And they 11 ask him for some hush money and say they’ll tell what they know, if he don’t give it to them. Perhaps it’s true—about th s woman they say he’s wij,h now. Maybe he’ll want to protect her name. “But if he stands up on his two feet, and says he won’t give them a thing—then this Corum is going to wheedle Sadie into filling out a paper, swearing that Mr. Hart did things to her. . . .” a tt a "rvH, mother! mother!” V-/ “Why, Ashtoreth, what’s the matter, honey?” “But he never did, Mums. I know he never did.” “Os course he didn’t, honey.” Maizie comforted her child, caressing her adoringly. “You feel about it just like I do, don’t you dear? You and mother’ll take care of Sadie. She’s a foolish little girl and she needs somebody like us to sort of watch over her. . . . Sh!” Maizie lifted her hand wamingly. “Here she is now dear.” Ashtoreth sprang to her feet. “Maybe it’s Monty,” she said. “Maybe it is.’-’ . . Maizie smoothed her apron, and put her hands to her hair. . . . Til run out, and turn the gas on under the coffee pot. I’ll bet he feels just like a good cup of hot coffee. And some brownies —Monty loves my brownies.” She was in the kitchen, when the door opened. CHAPTER XXXVII “ ''■'v H—Sadie. We thought you were Monty.” Ashtoreth called to her 'mother. “Never mind the coffee, Mums. It’s only Sadie.’ Maizie came in from th# kitchen and settled herself comfortably on the big divan. “My goodness,” she observed, glancing from one girl to the other. “You two certainly are different. I dont know as I ever saw two girls so different.” Sadie flipped her short skirts pertly. “I ain’t a red-hot mommer any more,” she chattered. “Just a sweet young thing, tryin’ to get along. Not a day over 16, and butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.” She was wearing a suspender skirt of red and blue, pleated smartly. v Her blouse had a broad childish collar, with a blue silk tie. She wore a scarlet beret, and striped wool socks over her nude silk stockings. Ashtoreth was in brown, and her skirt was five inches longer than Sadie's. “Ash. now.” pronounced Sadie, “looks like Id like to look. But God didn’t have no clothes horse in mind when he give me these short little legs.” She sat beside Maizie, ; nd stuck them out derisively. “Not so hot,” she lamented.” Say, Ash. if I had a couple of stems like yours! There’s no telling how far a good pair of legs will take a girL . . . Say, dearie, what makes you wear your skirts so long?” b u u MAZIE looked slightly scandalized. v “If you'd think less about your legs. Sadie,” she began. . . . “Oh, all right. All right. I was only trying to give your daughter a compliment, Mrs. Ashe.”

THE NEW Saint-Sinner ByJlnneJlu&tin Mamswiawc

‘•Supper!” Mrs. Plimpton’s voice cut sharply through Crystal's frightened reverie. The girl climbed docilely out of the car and joined the tourist couple at their impromptu supper spread on a large square of white oilcloth near the campfire on which the coffee pot was bubbling messily. “Reckon you’re used to fancier victuals,” Mrs. Plimpton commented acidly. “I've heard tell how manicurists are worse gold diggers than chorus girls.” “Manicurists?” Crystal repeated dazedly. Mrs. Plimpton shot a triumphant look at her husband, who was happily absorbing scrambled eggs at the moment. “I thought you said you worked in a beauty parlor. Miss Waterbury.” “Oh—yes,” said Crystal, forcing her attention upon her hostess. "But —l'm not a manicurist. I do marcel waving,” she fabricated desperately. a a a When the meal was finished and the Plimptons and their guest had packed up the cooking kit. Crystal was the first to take her place in the fro/it seat of the automobile. The Morning Star was scattered untidily on the slick black cushion and she picked it up, folding it neatly, but unconscious of the act. As Cyrus M. Plimpton drove off into the night, hitting the state highway again, the girl folded the paper into a smaller and smaller roll, her icy fingers gripping it convulsively. She had to think. There was something terribly important that she had to face and reckon with, but how could she think, with the awful tourist person shouting election prophesies at her across his wife’s jealous, grim face? “Yes, sir, it's sure a pleasure to ft

Sadie got up restlessly, and wandered over to the radio. “What do you say if we pluck a band out of the air, to welcome I Little Sunshine home?” ' She twisted the dial, looking over I her shoulder at Ashtore .h. “You give me a pain in the neck, I Ash—that’s what you do. Here’s your mother been thinking of nothki’ but you ever since you been away. Workin’ her fingers off, while [ you were playing the grand lady. Slaving all day, cleaning the place, and cooking. “And she don’t get so much as a pleasant look out oi you. Anybody’d think you was at a wake—that’s what they’d think. What’s the matter with you. anyway?” Maize looked helplessly at her daughter. “There’s something on your mind, ain’t there, honey?” “You're darn tootin’, there's something on her mind,” contributed Sadie, “and it ain’t none of my business, or anything like that. But I hate to see your mother gettin’ the cold water treatment, Ash, after all she’s done for you.” Ashtoreth crossed the room swiftly,, and flung herself in Maizie’s lap. “I’m wondering about Monty,” she lied . . .And all the while she was thinking, of course, of Hollis. “Sadie's an old crab, Mums. She just likes to hear herself talk:” She bent to her mother’s ear. “Let me sleep with you tonight, darling. Sadie can have my room. I’ve a secret to tell you.” Maizie squeezed her ecstatically. “That will be lovely, dear. Just like when you were little.” “Here’s the Times,” announced Sadie, "broadcasting the late news.” “Get some music,” ordered Ashtoreth. “Who cares about news?” “Wait a sec,” Sadie moved the dial fraction of an inch. “What’s that he’s saying? Gosh, another airplane down. Ain’t that too bad? Gee, it’s as much as your life’s worth, flying in them things.” a , b ASHTORETH sprang to her feet. “Where, Sadie?” “Oh, my God, Ash! I neverthought about Monty.” Sadie straightened. Her eyes were wide and frightened. “I didn’t get it all. Somewhere in Connecticut, I think he said. Flying ever from New . York .... Oh, wouldn’t it be awful, Ash!” Maizie thumbed the telephone directory. “Call the News,” she commanded. “Here’s the number—You do it, Ash—ask for the city desk.” But Ashtoreth shook her head. “Here—l will.” .... Sadie darted into the hall, with Maizie at her heels. “Hubbard 6000. . . . hurry up, operator! . . . Gee, Mrs. Ashe, I guess she’s crazy about Monty. Did you see how pale she got? . . . No, operator ... six thousand. . . It can’t be busy—it’s a switchboard Maybe you’d betted go in and see if site’s all right, Mrs. Ashe Well, they would if you’d ring them. . . . Listen, operator, that’s a newspaper office, and of course they’ll answer. . . . Hello—hello. Is this the News? Give me the city desk, please.” Sadie handed the telephone to Maizie. “Here, you talk to them, Mrs. Ashe. Yo.u can ask things better than I can.” Ashtoreth stood in the door, like a pale ghost, with her hand against her throat Maizie was crisp and businesslike. “Hello—is this the city desk? Your announcer has just broadcast news of an airplane accident. We didn’t hear it all. Can you tell me about it?... What?... Oh, you don’t know? “But they were flying from New York? Yes? Yes, yes. We particularly wanted to know the names of the passengers. Two of them? Perhaps you’d be good enough to take my number, and call me back, if you get a report. Well, that’s very nice of you. The number is Kenmore 0510-J. “Mrs. Ashe—yes, Mrs. Joe Ashe. Oh, you did? Yes, he was on the Globe for a good many years. * Mr. Burton, you said? Then you’ll call

have someone to talk to, Miss Waterbury! And I don’t mind telling you I enjoy shooting off my mouth as well as the next fellow.” Mrs. Plimpton answered something and the two began to quarrel, but Crystal did not hear a word they said. She was forcing her mind to picture, step by stefo every event that would take place in the Hathaway and the Tarver home after her disappearance was discovered. The weary’ journey brought her again to Bob’s emphatic decision to find out all he could about “Pablo Valencio.” He would go out to the Jonson dairy farm, then to the Grayson's, and there —there —he would find out all about poor Pablo Mendoza. He would find that Fablo Mendoza was gone! And—and—he would leap to the conclusion that she had gone away with a Mexican farmhand! What would Bob do then? What couki he do? Crystal forced her mind to think logically. He would check up on marriage license bureaus, of course, and then—then he would find that she and Pablo had not been married. If only they had! Then—what would Bob think—do? Why, that she had been lured into a shameful alliance with the handsome young Mexican! He would see red, as only a male kinsman can do, and then—then— “He’ll hunt Pablo down and kill him!” Crystal faced the thing at last. She must save Pablo, at any cost, while there was still time. ' “Please stop the car! I’ve got to get out! Tve got to go back! Please!” (To Be Continued) • /

me. Mr. Burton, later? Thank you very much.” j* a “-ITSTHAT mother? What is it?” VV Ashtoreth’:; voice caught raspingly in her throat. “There’s a plane missing,” reported Maizie. “It left New York at 6 o’clock. A commercial plane, piloted by a man named Burns. He had two passengers aboard. They’re worried because of the fog, and the plane hasn’t any landing lights for night flying. “The man on the desk said he’d call back. He knew your father. They used to work together, he said. And he’ll telephone us, as soon as they hear anything.” Maizie put her arms around her daughter. “There, honey, you mustn't take on. You got just as white as a ghost. Lands, I didn’t know anything’d give you a turn like that.” “And you told me she wasn’t in love!” bantered Sadie, looking at Maizie. “Say, when a jane like Ash comes so darn near pullin’ a faint, I guess she must be in a tough way.” “It isn’t Monty!” protested Ashtireth. “No?” Well, it must be something you et,” mocked Sadie. “Only I’d call it love—l would.” The telephone rang sharply. “There, I bet that’s Monty now,” declared Maizie. She took the receiver down. “Yes—yes, Mr. Burton. What! What’s that you said? Oh, my God, no! There’s some mistake. There’s some mistake, I said. Yes, yes—she was. Yes, this evening. No—no, T tell you. ... , Ashtoreth gripped her mother’s ■shoulders. And Maizie, as she turned from the transmitter, thought that she had never seen eyes so big and frightened. Nor a living face before that was whiter than death. She put her hand over the mouth of the instrument. .' . . “No,.dear—it’s not that. Not Monty.” Then, into the phone, '“Just a minute, Mr. Burton. Hold the line a moment . My daughter is here now. Will you hold the line, please, until I speak to her?” tt B U MAIZIE S pink cheeks were pale, and there were linfes, that had come like lightning, to crease her face in ugly folds. “I tell you, dear,” she insisted, “it’s nothing about the plane. They haven’t heard anything. ~ . For goodness sake, take that expression off your face! You give me the horrors. “Sadie, take her in the other room, like a good girl. . . . It’s a little private business I have with Mr. Burton.” She turned to the telephone again. . . . “Yes, Mr Burton. Now will you repeat that, please? . . . Yes, yes, I told you she was Yes, this evening. No, she hasn’t. Not a thing —no. I tell you it’s a mistake. . . . “You—you wouldn’t print anything like that, Mr. Burton? It’s a lie, that’s what it is. A lie, I said —you heard me. What! Who did? What papers? But it’s a lie! I don’t care if every paper in New York printed it—that doesn’t make it the truth, does it? Listen, Mr. Burton—” Maizie’s voice was wheedling now. “You.said you was a friend of Joe’s, didn’t you? Well, no friend of Joe’s is going to print stories about his daughter. . . . Yes, yes. I know. Well, New York isn’t Boston, and we can’t help that now. . . . The other papers all have it? Oh, my God, Mr. Burton! Can’t you step them?” Ashtoreth threw aside Sadie’s encircling arm. “Mother, what is it? Tell me this minute! It’s something about me.” She drew Maizie from the telephone. . . “Let me speak to him. But Maizie pushed her aside. “Listen, Mr. Burton, you call me back in ten minutes. Yes, I’ll speak to my daughter. I’ll give you. a statement in ten minutes. . . . You can talk to her yourself if you want to .... In ten minutes, I said.” . BUB SHE hung up the receiver, and walked, like a person in her sleep, into the living-room. Sadie rose dumbly from the divan, to face her. Ashtoreth put trembling hands on her shoulder. And they stood, white and cold, like a tableau. Waiting for Maizie to speak. “It’s about you,” she said ; looking at Ashtoreth, and her voice was strained and jerky. Not at all like Maizie’s voice. “Mr. Burton says there’s a story in New York about you and Hollis Hart. Some New York papers used it in the afternoon, in the last editions. “They didn't get it in time for Boston. It’s going to be in all the morning papers, he says. . . . About you and him . . . being together, Ashtoreth.” Maizie’s voice broke. . . . “It ain’t true, what he says?” she cried. “Say it ain’t true, Ashtoreth.” “What does he say, mother?” . . . Ashtoreth’s voice was cool and smooth, ands pale as her waxen face. “He read me the wire. It said—” Maizie gulped. “It said something about ‘Hollis Hart, well-known man about town, returns on S. S. Juanita with stenographer.’ And he made some crack about a tropical island romance . . .” “Well, I’ll be darned!” . . . Sadie slumped on the divan. “Go on, Mrs. Sshe!” she commanded. “Go on. Spill the dirt . . .” (To Be Continued) Sadie believes the worst. And then, on top of everything, comes news of the missing plane. FAST LIFE KILLS GIRLS * Doctor Assails Present Craze for Slim Silhouette. an l nited Press ALBANY, N. Y., Jan. 18.—The slim boyish silhouette ,of fashion, the fast present day indoor life, and the early' entrance Into industry of the modern girl, are primary causes of the high death rate from tuberculosis in young women from 15 to 20 years old, according to Dr. Edward Marsh, secretary to the health commissioner. '

THE TNDIAKAPOLIS TIMES

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MON ’N POP

THE BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE

When the Aurora, depot ship, was blown far from her _ “2= anchorage, nine men were left stranded on the main- —— ==■" land. Heroically they carried on their task of depotlaying, marching in all 950 miles thrpugn the frozen * ,r Ernest Shackleton wastes. One of the party, Spencer Smith, collapsed made another voyage with scurvy, and for 42 days his companions pulled him •- south in the Quest, seton the sledge only to see him die in the end. out ,n September, \, Ht*. T>-~g)> l■> PmW.lot ( Th, l CyrtM, \J *** ‘ ,

OUT OUR WAY

By Ahern

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SluckMon's body wu buried i. South Georgia, w scene of his heroic feats of knight-errantry and splenShackleton had over- did resource. Over the South Pole float two flags, strained his heart and he Norwegian and British. The Antarctic, into which died at sea trying to un- Commander Byrd and his party are now venturing, is a dertake. the labors of land of death and desolation, horror and anguish, but men he thought more it calls forth men’s noblest emotions. than himself. Jt o, r v< T ~ p**— s°q-*t{To Be Continoed) J

SKETCHES BY BESSEY. SYNOPSIS BY BBAUCHEB

.JAN. 18,1929

—By Williams

—Bv Martin

By Blosscr

By i ra ne

By Small

By Cowan