Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 31, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 June 1929 — Page 10

PAGE 10

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THIS HAS HAPPENED J6P.V CURTIS MORGAN ; madly 1< Tllh hlr in'.'.lii vile. IPIS NAN CARROL! Morgsr. t ■ ";retry. loves hlme She has a fin* eer.se 0! honor, hoae'er. ard deterir.nes so lev.* h'.f ♦mpio- Sh* '.:r.gr a-her. she hears Morgan !s to defend a supposed frierd. BERT CRAWFORD. Indicted so: eraWMi er.* CVKVIS MORGAN aj *. Innocently Flares ‘.n Nan's hands a !e*rr tacer. rom tils mo'.rers handbag Crawford l**ves towi imtocdlatel* utei C'jttta. ar.d Iris follows In a few da-* She writ** h*r husband she w.ii never r*' irr. clever!- omitting reference to Crawford, whom Morgan does not suspect Morgan is. broken-hearted Nan hg him rot to place Curtis tr a hoarding school. agr*inp to go to the house ■while Morgan is mr or. bus - ess *o t-t *h.e wheels of a r.ew housekeeping •rrang'ment in motion. f c- MX months Nan ac*' as long-dls- • ar.ce housekeeper, -inning the love of little Curtis, who adores her Nan. who fcav b*er. studying law. goes to the capital to tac* hr bar exams When she return! Morgan breaks the news to ter that he is preparing to dl-.orc* Iris. He attempts to propose to Nan. telling her of his and the child s need of her Foe realiz*! that marriage to him who lo- ex ar.othr cannot be complete! - .- sa rilying, but sh* would rather have him .that way than not at all. They are married with the ghost of Iris ho erir.g r.ar. Before th*:r 'ralr. Is o lea e Morgan hurriedly -ak*s her to the ofilc* where ah* finds her name on th* door be ide hn He has mad* her his partnercut she fear - i* is to be In business on:--, NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY . CHAPTER XXVI 'Continued- ‘ So we are!" her husband agreed, smiling. "Plenty of time to catch ©ur train. The—the ceremony didn't take long, did it? Less than half an hour altogether. Only 11 o’clock now” Wondering a little and hotly embarrassed at the prospect of facing Evans, Blake and the stenographer she had hired on Monday to fake care of the work during her and her husband’s absence on their wedding trip. Nan walked jerkily beside John Curtis Morgan as they entered the elevator of the Sanderson building. "Seventh floor, please,’’ he startled her by saying to the operator. Where were they going? Why? Their offices were on the ninth floor. He was still smiling and there was a flush of excitement on his lean, austere face as he took her arm and marched her down a long corridor. A man in painter’s overalls was standing before the door of Suite 718. He did not look around, but with frowning intentness kept on with the delicate job on which he was engaged. “Nearly finished?" Nan heard her husband ask briskly. The painter stepped back, surveyed his work with prideful eyes. ‘‘Yep. Pretty good job, if I do say it myself!” "The best ob you ever did in your life," Morgan answered with curious solemnity, his hand closing tightly over Nan's. Nan could hardly read the newmade sign, because of the tears in her eyes: "Morgan & Morgan, Attorneys-at-Law.” "Partners, Nan! Is that—good enough?" a deep, husky voice asked. Nan did not dare look at him as she nodded: her heart was too full of joy and fear. What did he mean—is that "good enough"? CHAPTER XXVII “QTOLE a march on you!" John Curtis Morgan exulated, as he laid a hand upon the knob of the outer door of suite 718. “We're all moved without your knowing a thing about it—unless your woman's intuition, of which you are sinfully proud, by the way, gave you an inkling of what we were up to.” "No, I never had the faintest suspicion," Nan confessed. "But be fore we go in—and face everyone, tell me—” And she laid a restraining hand on his. With a muttered excuse to which the newly married couple paid not the slightest attention, the sign oainter abrutly left his job. Morgan's eyes were twinkling, but. they were suspiciously moist as he smiled down upon the girl who had been his secretary for four years and was now his law partner and his wife. "Os course. I've had this in mind since long before youwereadmitsince long before you were admitted to the bar.” he explained. "The sign, however, is a—rather recent inspiration.” and he pointed to the words, "Morgan & Morgan, Attor-ney6-at-Law.” "I gave the order for it three days ago when we took cut our—marriage license.

THE NEW Saint-Sinner ByjJnnejfusUn C 19iS iy MA smia. DJC

Fragments of thought skittered through Crystal's mind: “So Dick did lie to Tony about Callie! . . . I knew all the time there was something terrible behind that poor girl's frantic telephone call ... So that is why old Mr. Talbot is so crazy to have Tony marry Dick right away, and when he was so bitter about their engagement last June! . . . “Dick figured he'd be safe if he married Tony. Callie couldn't make him marry her then. But now—oh, now Tony won't have to marry Dick' She's free, she's free!" Colin Grant was watching her oddly. “Will you?" he asked at last urgently. ‘Will I what?" Crystal gasped. “Oh. of course! Yes, I'll go to see Callie. if you'll let me take someone else along. My chum—Tony Tarver.” “The girl flier?" Colin frowned. “Why take her?" Recklessly, Crystal explained. “Tony is engaged to Dick. She was going to marry him Saturday." “Good Lord! That complicates thing, doesn't it? I'm sorry " “Sorry?" Crystal laughed, almost hysterically. Ts you only knew! I’m not sorry. I'm glad, glad! You 6ee, Mr. Grant, Tony doesn’t want to marry Dick. She's being forced into it. I can’t explain. It would take too long. “But Tony will be glad. too. Please believe that-—’’ She caught herself up short a* she saw a grim smile turn down the corner of his mouth. “Oh. don’t think I'm not sorry for Caiiie Barrett, that I'm not thinking of her, too. I’ll do anything I can. an<*%o will Tony.” * - -taeodl" Colin Grant accepted

"The lease for the new suite of office was signed a month ago. on the very day you were admitted to the bar. The old lease expires today and I wanted the move and the new sign to be my wedding present to you. There's another sign inside. on the door of my new law partner's private office.” "Oh 1 ” Nan choked and raised trembling hands to hide her face from him. From behind the screen of her icy fingers she murmured brokenly:* "Thank you—John. I—shall do my best—to deserve —” “You've already deserved a partnership—and more," Morgan interrupted huskily. "Want to run away now—or do you want to face the music and see your new office!” "I—please—” Nan began, but was interrupted by the opening of the door. Oh. it is you. Mr. Morgan! I ' thought I recognize* 5 your shadow I against the glass pane of the door,” a blithe, excited young voice cried. "That's one of the curses of bej ing so tall," Morgan admitted ruefully. "What is it, Miss O'Hara? i Miss Carroll—l mean, Mrs. Mor- ! gan—” he floundered, his austere face flushing darkly—"and I are about to catch a train —" a tx c THE pretty Miss O Hara clasped her hands and glowed her | pleasure. "So you're actually mar- ( ried! I'm too thrilled for words. I ; do hope Mrs. Morgan decides to let : me stay on— But what am I thinking of?" she broke off with charming contrition. "Mr. Blake wanted to go right over to city hall to make sure of finding you before you left ' on your honeymn. but I said that ; would be simply terrible, and I knew j anyway that you would want to : show Mrs. Morgan the new offices j and the sign and everything—” Morgan cut short her breathless l rush of words. “Just what has hap- : pened. Miss O'Hara?'’ "Oh, I am dumb, but I'm so ex- ! cited!” Kathleen O'Hara excused j herself with a bubble of laughter. ! "Well, just about ten minutes after you left this morning, Mr. Morgan, a long-distance telephone call came for you. I tok it. of course, and it was David Blackhull that the papers—” "David Blackhull!” Nan and her new husband cried in chorus. Kathleen O'Hara's face glowed "I knew you'd be absolutely dumbfounded! Imagine it! The police and the reporters combing the country for him and he telephones you long-distance! You know*, it gave me the oddest feeling—actually talking to a murderer —" "We don’t- know tha the is a murderer," Morgan reminded her curtly. "What did he say? Please be as quiet as possible. We have a train j to catch ” "Oh, I’m sorry!" Miss O'Hara fluttered. Nan wondered if she had acted so silly, so hero-worshiping when she first came to work for John Curtis Morgan. "He said he was just ready to ‘take-off’ in a friend’s plane and would be here by 11 o'clock, and it’s ten minutes after 11 now*, and ” "He wants me to defend him?” Morgan interrupted again. "Oh. of course, and when I told him you and Miss Carroll were being married and were going to leave at 11:30 on your honeymoon, he said, ‘Ask him for God's sake to wait till I see him' ” "Well, I can’t see him—that's final." Morgan decided flatly. "Please. Mr. Morgan!” Nan broke in. "Shall we go into your office and talk it over for a minute? There's time enough, I'm sure.” Neither she nor her husband noticed that she had called him by the old familiar title. They were again chief and trusted subordinate—hus-band-and-wife relauonship temporarily forgotten—as Morgan led the way into the new suite of offices. They did not even pause for Nan to get her first prideful glimpse of her j own private office. After working hours the night before and while she was being married this morning—Nan had gone direct from her little apartment to city hall—the move had been almost miraculously accomplished. Everything from the old offices was in place, even to telephones.

curtly. “I'll arrange it with Blaine to let you go right away. Your Christmas Cheer story does not have t obe in till I o’clock, does it. You’ll have plenty of time. Just a minute." And he already was turning toward the city editor's desk. In a minute or two he was back. “O. K. with Blaine, but he told me to remind you that your deadline is 1 o'clock. Thank's again!” He was turning away again, and Crystal could not bear it. Was he washing his hands of Callie Barrett—and her? Was he again "on his way"? "Please, Mr. Grant! Just a moment," she called. “You'll want to know what Tony and I do, won't you? When shall I report to you?" It was so obvious, she thought later, hot with shame. And his crooked grin told her that he found her obvious. “I usually grab a sandwich and a cup of coffee after the home edition's in,” he offered ungraciously. “At Charlie's Coffee Pot.” “The coffee's pretty terrible, but of course I could have tea," Crystal smiled, and again, for a dizzying moment, their eyes caught and held It was ten minutes to eight. She stepped into a phone booth, closed the door tightly, and called the Ross number. Tony’s clear voice, with the eager lilt in it, answered. “Crystal, Tony. I can't take time to explain now, but will you ir.jet me in your car as quickly as possible? It's vitally important. At the corner of Tenth and Main. I’ll walk over to meet you. And please hurry. I don’t care if you are cooking lireakfast for Sandy Ross. This is much more important!” (To Be Continued.)

j. btfAnn^Austiri y Author of | lAc^hckPi^eon^

Asa matter of course. Nan dropped into the stenographer's chair drawn up to the side of the big desk, and Morgan took the swivel chair. It was as if nothing had occurred to change the old relationship of employer and secretary. a a o I DON'T want the case, Nan, and even if I did. I wouldn’t take it today of all days—” Morgan began firmly. "Because everything points to the boy's being guilty?” Nan challenged him tensely. "I don't believe he is! I don’t care if he did seem to be in hiding while the police searched for him! He’s coming forward now, voluntarily, to give himself up for questioning. If he does reach this office without being stopped by police, I want you to see him. Please give him five minutes. If he isn’t here by then, we can still make our train—” "You’ve always put business before pleasure, haven't you. Nan?" Morgan asked, with a queer smile turning down a corner of his mouth. For a moment Nan had a fleeting heart-twisting fear that he was hurt. There was a knock on the door, immediately followed by Kathleen O’Hara’s vivid, excited little face. “He’s here!” she gasped in a thrilled whisper. "And he dc n’t look like a murderer at all! Isn’t it marvelous that the police didn't catch him before he got here? Shall I show him in?” "Yes.” Morgan answered curtly. Then, to Nan. in a low voice: “We can take a later train, I suppose. ’ Kathleen O'Hara was right. No one could have looked less like a patricide than David Blackhull. A slender, well-groomed boy of about 20, with wavy nut-brown hair, frank eyes, a fair, freckled skin, he might have posed for a picture to be entitled. "Composite Portrait of American College Youth.” Nan liked the way he thrust out a steady hand, as if it did not occur to him that anyone might hesitate to clasp it. She offered her own hand unflinchingly when Morgan performed the introduction: "My law partner and—my wife, Mrs. Morgan.” Ironic, Nan thought, that the first time those words, "my wife,” passed his lips in reference to her, they should be addressed to a boy suspected of the murder of his father. “Well, I made it, sir,” Dawd Blackhull said, with just a trace of boyish bravado. “But I can’t blame the police for not spotting me right off. I look too much like most other fellows. I wasn’t in hiding, sir. I—l didn’t know my father had been—killed until I saw a paper this morning. I've been up north in the woods with a pal of mine. He has a hunting lodge and when he came in at dawn this morning from Mountain View—that is the nearest r.own to his lodge—with a paper, why, of course, there was nothing to do but to come and give myself up, but I wanted to see you first,” "And the plane?” Morgan prompted, after he had seated the young man in the armchair across the desk. "Oh, he has a moth monoplane that he buzzes around in,” this son of wealth explained easily. "Stephen Grants’ his name. Maybe you’ve heard of the family?” At Morgan’s nod. the boy went on eagerly: "He offered to bring me in and we stopped just once on the way, to telephone. I put the call through a pay station in a village, using Grant’s name, but when I got your office I told who I was. I thought maybe the police would have the operators listening in, but it looks as if they didn’t —” “Your luck was certainly with you,” Morgan interrupted dryly. "Now. about your father—” a ts a NAN sprang to her feet, excused herself with a word and ran out of the office, to return a minute later, breathless. Jerking out the stenographers leaf of the desk, she flung open her notebook and began to take rapid shorthand notes of the boy’s story. In spite of her half-fearful, halfjoyful absorption in her approaching wedding, Nan had taken an enormous interest in the sensational murder of the millionaire automobile manufacturer, Thornton Blackhull. The papers had shrieked the news of the disappearance of the old man’s son within a few minutes of the murder. The millionaire had been found dead, shot through the heart, his son's automatic clumsily hidden behind a row of books in a case near the door. The butler, who found the body and noticed the disarrangement of the books, which led to the discovery of the weapon, had told of hearing a violent quarrel between the old millionaire and his son early in the evening. The murder had taken place, according to the medical examiner, at approximately 2 o’clock in the morning. The butler, asleep in his room on the third story of the Blackhull mansion, had not heard the shot, but had been aroused at five minutes to two by the sound of a car on the gravel drive below* his window and had gone to the window to look out. He said that the car was David Blackhull's. jnd the next morning, when he went to notify the boy that his father had been murdered, the boy was missing, had not slept in his room that night. Naturally, the police had been searching the country for the missing son, with warrants out for his arrest. And now he sat in John Curtis Morgan’s office, telling his ow*n story of that last day and night of his father’s life. "He didn't kill his father, but he’s : holding something back,” Nan told herself, as her pencil flew. At last she could keep silent no longer. With an audacity excused by her new status as Morgan's law partner. she interrupted: “Mr. Blackhull, was your father happily mar-ied to your young stepmother?’ ’ The painful blush which suffused the boy’s face told her that she was on the right track. "I—she —they” David Blackhull stammered. "She vas so much younger than dad. you know—just 22 to his 64. But if you’re—s-s-sus-pecting Nina—lmean, my stepmother she left for

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUT OUR STAY

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day before—before it happened.” I “But after she left for Chicago, your father made a will in which he gave her nearly everything, leaving you only $10,000,” Nan told him quietly. “Do you know wty?” An hour later a very subdued and bewildered young man left with the senior member of the firm of Morgan & Morgan to give himself up for arrest. There would be no honeymoon for Nan Carroll Morgan. Alone in Morgan's office she broke into a hysterical laugh, then bowing her head upon her husband's desk she released the flood of tears that had swollen her sore heart almost to 1 bursting. j _(Ti*. B Continued)

Questions and Answers

you can get an answer to any answerable Question of fact or information by writing to Frederick M. Kerby. Question Editor The Indianapolis Times' Washington Bureau. 1322 New York avenue Washington. D. C.. inclosing 2 cents in stamps for reply. Medical and legal advice can not be given nor can extended research be made. All other Questions will receive a personal reply Unsigned recuests can not be answered. All letters are conadentlal. You are cordially invited to make use of this service Where are Daniel Webster. Rober t E. Lee and Benedict Arnold buried? a Daniel Jk’ebster is buried at Marshfield, Mass., Robert E. Lee at

—By Williams

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Lexington, Va., and Benedict Arnold is buried in England, near London. What is the weight of a cubic foot of water? It weighs sixty-two and one half pounds. How many Greeks are there in the United States? According to the 1920 census there were 221,768. What is the population of Brazil? Who is the president?^ -f-

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870.972. Dr. Washington Luis Pereira rie Sousa is president. How do American Indians destroy their beards? The beardless condition of the Indian is a radical characteristic. How many bank failures were there in the United States in 1927? 324. What is the address of the widow of President Roosevelt? Oyster Bay, Long Island, N. Y. What colleges in the United States, now in existence, were established daring the colonial period? Harvard, Yale, University of

JUNE 17, 1929

—By Martiri

By Cowan

Dartmouth college, Columbia university, Rutgers university, Washington and Lee university and the College of William and Mary. How many cities named York are in the United States? Tnere are cities or towns by that name in Alabama, Illinois, Kentucky, Nebraska, New York, North Dakota, Pennsylvania and South Carolina. How many Negroes are there among the enlisted men of the United States army and navy? There are 607 enlisted Negroes itt the

By Ahern

Bt t Biossetf

By Crane

By Smalt