Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 35, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 June 1929 — Page 28

PAGE 28

EFVAL^/rVES^ Omo & NEAi SERVICE ItNCl t NC *

THIS HAS HAPPINEH Hun Carrol .s in lo'.r *~ith hrr employer. John Curtis Morgan, laayer. He. hoaf.er. io\e his wile, Iria. ho 1$ beautiful but indifferent. Nan derides to res gn. but lingers Then Ahhears Morgan ;s o defend a supposed friend, Bert Cranford Nan distrust him and Iris After Craaford's asquittal, he leaves town, closely followed by Ins She writes Morgan she will never return, but elevely omits mention of Crawford, whom Morgan does not suspect. Nan saves Morgan from despair by diplomatically forcing him into his work. She acts as long-distance housekeeper for him for six months, winning the love of little Curtis, his son, and bringing comfort to a man who Ironically thinks only of another. Returning from the capital, where she took bar exams. Nan Is Informed by Morgan that he Is divorcing Iris. He stutters a proposal They are quitely married a few months later. They stop by the office on the way to the train where Morgan shows her his wedding present to her anew office and partnership with his In business. They are prevented from going on their honeymoon by the arrival of David Blackhuil, accused of murdering his wealthy father. Nan Insists that Morgan take the case, leaving orders for dinner and instructing the maid to remove fris' picture. When she arrives she revokes the orders, however. At dinner little Curtis Innocently strikes misery in her heart asking his -father if he thinks Nan beautiful as Iris. A telephone call from Nina Blackhuil. David’s young stepmother, interrupts them. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XXX tContiued) “Well, Nan?" Morgan put an arm about the girls bare shoulders and pressed her close aganist his side Fbr a breathless moment Nan thought he was going to kiss her. But he drew her gently along with him to a small Empire sofa, so placed that Iris’ portrait was not visible from it. Was that why he chose it? Nan wondered, but was grateful. When they were seated. Nan taking exaggerated pains with the arranging of her long, poppyeplashed skirt Morgan again put his fight arm about her shoulders and with his left hand gathered up both her cold little hands, lifted them, brushed his lips against the rosy finger-tips it a e LAD you’re—here. Nan?” he vJ asked at last, huskily. "Yes.” She could not. manage more just then, with her whole body trembling to his touch. His arm tightened about her shoulders. “I'm —happier than I’ve been for a long time. Nan dear. It hasn't been a very orthodox wedding day, has it?” he added regretfully. ‘‘But—the worst is over. I think. Curtis. ... Os course you know he adores you." he blundered on, his voice thick with embarrassment. ‘‘We can't expect him to understand —can we?" "No." Nan said simply, but her voice sounded cold, odd. Oh. why didn't he kiss her? She had waited so long. Nothing would matter, nothing could hurt very deeply, if he loved her. even a little. *‘l—it’s rotten luck that we had to postpone our—trip.” her husband went on. haltingly. "Poor little Nan? Precious little Nan!" And he laid his check against her shining brown hair, his arm crushing her shoulders with sudden vehemence. Nan waited, holding her breath, her heart beating so loudly that she was afraid he would hear its clamorous. despairing message. "I love you! I love you! Don't you love me at all?" Surely now lie would kiss her. But he lifted his head, began to speak again, in that halting, embarrassed way which was agony to her! "Os course you're to do whatever you like with the house. Throw out anything or everything, do it over to suit yourself, dear Nan—” "He means the portrait, but he can't iring himself to say so in so many words.” Nan interpreted drearily. "I shan't take it down. It's up to him —" But he was going on. doggedly. “I want you to have exactly the kind of home you like. If you—don't like this house—' "Oh, but I do!” Nan interrupted, her heart pounding instantly to the pain which dragged at his voice. He loved the house. She would suffer an\ thing rather than uproot him.

THE NEW Saint-Sinner Bx/frineJlustin •*>■*■■*

"Listen. Callie! Listen!" Tony begged, shaking the girl by the shoulders in an effort to check that terrible fit of hysterics. "I'm not going to marry Dick Talbot!" The sobs stopped suddenly. "Aw, go on and marry him." Callie Barrett said drearily. "It ain't sping to get me nothing if you throw him over now." ."I don't want to. I've never wanted to," Tony insisted. "He made me believe I owed him a debt, becaus I'd let hint make love to me. but now his debt to you comes first—and I'm going to make him pay it," she added fiercely. ’ "What do you mean?" Callie atked blankly. 1 "I'm going to bring him here and make him marry you.' Tony elucidated. "Don't worr\ honey! I can do it all right! lust you be thinking what you'll wear for your wedding—" i Callie Barrett shook her head, slowly, with utter hopelessness ' Reckon I don't want to marry him. either, Miss Tarver. lam t fpreing myself on no man. I've got my pride, too. ■ When I first found out I was going to have a bady. I begged him to marry me. but when he—he called me a—a —awful name I wouldn't dirty my mouth with. I—well. I guess I stopped loving him. \ That’s the awful part of it now. u haven't even got no love left in my heart, but the baby's coming ahyway—" —Oh!” Tony gasped. Then she put her arms about the girl and ■ kissed her. "I'm so sorry. Callie. i bet for the baby's sake you ought Lto marry him. even if I have to make him do it—” I lAgaln the —rl shook her head, r'fc'o. Miss Tuner. Reckon it fwouldn't be much of a marriage, witti him hating me and my love lor him dead. I haven't told you —erything awful he did to me.

• “I thought perhaps . . . But I’ll I not pretend that I'm not glad and ! relieved that you like it.’ her husband confessed, his voice almost normal. “Don't hesitate to make any changes, though. I want it to be your home. . . . You cam forget about me when you make your plans. I’ll like anything you do. About my room ” He hesitated and Nan’s heart plunged. “I’m afraid I’ve grown rather fond of the little guest room, as we still call it. If youll permit me to share your bath—you’re taking the big guest room, Curtis tels me—l’ll promise always to leave it spick and span for you ” Above the roaring of blood in her eare Nan heard Estelle’s voice, as if from a great distance: “A telephone call for you, Mr. Morgan. A lady. She says her nam is Mrs. Nma Blackhuil——” “Good Lord! Nina Blackhuil!’' John Curtis Morgan exclaimed incredulously. “I wonder if this means that she's on her stepson’s side. Will you excuse me, Nan?’*

CHAPTER XXXI NAN sat motionless on the little soL.. waiting. She had the curious feeling that she had at last touched bottom, after plunging through countless fathoms of the sea of despair. She thought she had lost all power to feel pain or love or hope. It was good to have touched bottom. Better to know than to hope and to go on being hurt and hurt and hurt. She did not know' she was crying until a tear splashed upon the crisp ivory taffeta of her evening dress. Such a dear dress. Although she had been married that morning in a jaunty little tailored suit, she had thought of this as her wedding dress. Apathetically she watched the spot of moisture spread and spread. What a big tear! Another fell. The dress would be ruined. But what did it matter? Her wedding day was ruined. It was only fitting that the dress should be. too. There was a step. Her hand jerked up. dabbed fiercely at her eyes w'ith the tiny pointlace handkerchief. The handkerchief her mother had carried on her wedding day. Had her mother wept into it, too? Nan forced herself to show an eagerly interested face w'hen her husband rejoined her. “There seems to be a conspiracy against our being together Aoday.” he grinned at her wryly. "The young widow of the murdered man is very mysterious, but she promises to talk fast enough if I'll come to see her this evening. I refused, of course —" Nan had not put work ahead of love for four years for nothing. She was not pretending when she interrupted excitedly: "Refused? But. John! What she has to tell may be of vital importance to David Blackhuil. You should know' what it is before the preliminary hearing tomorrow'. I felt sure his stepmother was far more involved than David would admit today. Wait! I’ll get his statement. Os course you’re going!” She ran into the library, jerked open her new' briefcase, extracted her typed copy of David Blackhull’s story and flashed back into the drawing room with it. "Listen!” she commanded, the old Nan again for the moment a Nan sure of her worth and of her ground. No lovesick, despairing bride, this Nan. “I had a hunch when he was telling his story this morning that he and his father quarreled over Nina Blackhuil, not about money, as he insisted. Didn’t you notice how he blushed and stammered when he mentioned her name?” a tt xr MORGAN had undergone a change, too. Gone was the embarrassed, harassed bridegroom. torn between an old love and anew loyalty.

He told his father, and his father sent a lawyer to see me. The lawyer had a paper that he wanted me to sign, and it said in it that I swore my baby wasn't Dick’s. He said if Id sign it Dick's father would give me a thousand dollars, but I tore it up and threw it in his face." "Os course you did!” Tony championed her hotly. "Oh. the beasts! I could kill them all!" "I told the lawyer that I'd die before I'd sign a paper like that, because I never had been bad with any man but Dick, and if he didn't want to make it right for me and the baby, I'd kill myself, but I wouldn't sign a lie." the dreary voice went on. "And so the lawyer accused me of trying to blackmail Mr. Talbot and Dick and I said no. I didn't want nothing from them, after Dick had acted like that. i.. And now. all I want is to die. Last night I was going to take some stuff I got at the drug store to kill myself with but Mr. Grant stopped me. Two of the tablets rolled under the bed and he didn't see 'em. and I took 'em this morning. but they didn't kill me. They just made me sleep awful sound, so I didn't hear you when you come in." "Oh. Crystal! What can we do?" Tony cried despairingly. “She can't be left here, like this! Listen. Callie! Will you come and stay with me till we can decidb what is best for you?" Again that dreary shake of the head. "Reckon it wouldn't be right to get you mixed up with this. Miss Tarver, though you're mighty—mighty kind, and I 'preciate it—" The sobs were coming again, but she checked them resolutely. “Besides, ,1 couldn't leave Grandma. She’s old and sick." “Then listen—” Tony began eagerly (Jo Be Continued)

This was the man Nan had known and served for four years—the keen lawyer, meeting her eyes unflinchingly, with admiration and respect. “Yes. Go on. Thank God for Nan’s womanly intuition,” he grinned, a corner of his mouth quirking down in the way Nan loved. “Wen, I can guess why Nina Blackhuil wants to see you. She’s frantic to know how much David told. I’ll bet anything she vatoped the youngster until he lost his head. Probably the old man saw or heard something that gave them away, and —why, that’s the reason slic’d left for Chicago in such a hurry!” Nan concluded triumphantly. “But the will, which old Blackhull made after she left, and after he knew whatever it was that made him quarrel With his son, leaves everything but SIO,OOO to Nina,” Morgan pointed out. “That’s so,” Nan admitted. She propped her round little chin on her right fist and scowled as fiercely as her husband. Then her face clearing, her eyes hiningr “How’s this? Sounds wild, !t grant, but Ive got a hunch it’s pretty near correct! As I said before, Nina Blackhuil vamps young David until he’s mad about her. He forgets for a minute she’s his father’s wife and makes love to her. Probably only a kiss or two. But enough for Nina’s purpose. Very much the scandalized, virtuous wife, she goes to her doting old husband, tells him that his son has taken terrible advantage of her motherly interest—has, in short, madee love to her, and she can’t live under the same roof with him another day. The boy was away the day she left and did not return till the next afternoon late, you know—the night of the murder—” “Which Nina could hardly have committed, if she was in Chicago,” Morgan interposed. “Os course sjie couldn't! Do you think she’d risk doing it herself?” Nan was blithely scornful. “She knows, because the old man has told her—she made sure of that, of course! —that he is making a new will, cutting off his villainous young son and leaving everything to his loyal and loving -wife, so grossly insulted by that villainous young son. See?....She goes, with all arrangements made for the murder to take place after the will has been safely made and witnessed and after the quarrel which will throw suspicion upon the boy. See?” “I grant that of the two. the woman had the stronger motive,” Morgan agreed thoughtfully. “Getting rid of an old husband and acquiring a fortune at one blow. But —what about an accomplice?” “Ah! Thought you’d catch me, didn’t you?” Nan laughed. “But to tell you the truth, I had a hunch about the actual murderer before I became suspicious of the lovely Nina. I read all the stories in the paper before I knew the case was coming to us. you know. And two or three days ago there was an obscure paragraph about the Black-, hull chauffeur. Remember? He’d been questioned by the police, along with the other servants, the day after the murder, and had nothing of interest to tell. Then suddenly the police woke up to the fact that he was missing. But Nina Blackhull explained it by saying she'd discharged the man—Bassett, his name was, I believe—for impertinence to her.”

M ORGAN'S face seemed to catch the glow from hers. "All part of her scheme, you think? She has a scene with the chauffeur, carefully staged so that it will be overheard, discharges him. so that he can have an excuse for leaving?'’ “Attaboy!” Nan applauded gleefully. "The row and the dismissal were clever, weren't they? If anybody's interested a year or two from now. it might be enlightening to look up Mr. and Mrs. Bassett. The only way to explain it all is on the assumption that the chauffeur and Nina were lovers and plotted together to kill the old man for his money and her freedom.” “Now that that's settled.” Morgan laughed, “suppose the firm of Morgan & Morgan goes to call on the fair murderess.” Nan was sorely tempted, but she shook her head. "No John. You go alone. If Nina's the siren I think she is, she'd resent having me tag along. She wants to vamp some information out of you, and a —a —” she was about to say "wife” but could not utter the sacred word so casually yet—“a female lawyer would cramp her style dreadfully. No, you run along. I—l'm tired, anyway.” “I must say you're anxious to get rid of me!” Morgan protested indignantly'. “I'm not going to leave you—you merciless little slave-driver!” And he put an arm about her shoulders and hugged her close. “Oh, yes. you are!” Nan assured him. pushing him away with mock severity, when every' nerve in her body clamored to have him hold her closer and closer. “I suppose the junior partner of this firm has some say-so! Go along! I'm crazy to find out if our theory has any basis in fact—" “Oh! All right,” Morgan agreed abruptly, turning sharply away from her. For one precious moment Nan thought that he was hurt and angry with her for sending him away from her on their wedding night. But—she reminded herself—she had touched bottom, leaving hope far behind. Os course, for very decency, he had had to pretend. But hope had not been so completely crushed as Nan had believed. After her husband had gone. Nan sat quite still for many minutes, starring at her hands, like little pink cups, holding something infinitely precious. A kiss in the palm of each. The house was very silent. Estelle had left at 8. By this time the O'Briens—Big Pat. Little Pat and Maude—were cozi’y talking over the wedding in their pleasant apartment over the garage. Curtis was sound asleep in his own small room. What was that terrible thing he had said, in his appealing innocence? —"Won’t my other mother be s'prised when she comes home? I'll have two mothers at home, and

THE INDIANAPOLIS TEMPS

OUT OUR WAY

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you'll have two wives, won’t you, Father?” Nan shivered; her hands clenched convulsively, squeezing the life out of those two precious kisses. She was being foolishly neurotic, she told herself in disgust, Iris Morgan had left of her own accord, because she did not love her husband and did love another man. It was ridiculous of her to let a child's innocent words upset her so. But—what if those words were prophetic? a a a WTTH sudden determination Nan rose from the little sofa and ran into the library. She would read until her husband came home. Instinctively her hand reached

for a law book, but although it contained summaries of some of the most famous and fascinating murder trials in the annals of American criminal jurisprudence, the girl's tormented mind could not take in a page of it, She returned it to its shelf, selected instead a thin volume of poetry, an incongruous interloper among heavy legal tomes. Nan opened the little volume where a scrap of paper, with a penciled memorandum, served as a marker. The scribbled words betrayed the fact that John Curtis Morgan had been reading the poem after working on an appeal of the Nolan case—less than a week ago. Her hands trembled so that she

—By Williams

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could hardly hold the book, but her eyes swept up the first stanza; "Your hands, my dear, adorable, Your lips of tenderness —Oil, I've loved you faithfully and well, Three years, or a bit less. It wasn't a success.” Faintly, in pencil, in the margin opposite “three years" was written, in the hand she knew 7 so well, "nine years." Iris, always Iris! Nan’s frantic eyes leaped down the page, raced to the next. In this heartbreak. had he thought of her at all? The last lines of the poem answered her question; "And I shall find some girl, perhaps,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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And a better one than you, With eyes as wise, but kindlier, And lips as soft, but true. And I daresay she will do.” Nan dropped the book to the floor with a gesture of loathing. "And I daresay she will do.” She forgot that Rupert Brooke, and not John Curtis Morgan, had written the poem. He had made it his own. with that penciled correction. After a long time, Nan stooped and picked up the little book of poems. It had sprawled open, so that the flyleaf was exposed. Her eyes could not help taking in the blackink words which flowed across its whiteness:

.JTXE 21. 1929

-—By Martin

"For my adored wife, on our first ! anniversary—John Curtis Morgan.” Almbst blinded by tears, Nan fled ] from the library, up the stairs to i the "man-and-wife” guest room. With frantic, trembling haste she selected the plaintest nightdress | from her modest trosseau, snatched lup her second best negligee and mules, whirled into oathioeva —sobbing like an inconsolable child. "And I daresay she will do!’ - Nan quoted fiercely, between shuddering sobs, as she turned the key in the bathroom door that led into John Curtis Morgan's room. Pride was Nan Carroll Morgan’s bedfellow,- on her wedding night. * * (To Be Continued)

By Ahern

By liu.aser

By Crane

By Small

By Cowan