Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 140, Indianapolis, Marion County, 22 October 1929 — Page 10

PAGE 10

OUT OUR WAY

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THIS IIAS HAPPENED HELEN PAGE thinks she is In love Hint her guardian. LEONARD BRENT, ■who changes his plans lor her luture after meeting a dying man named NELLIN. Brent presents the girl to a millionaire, CYRIL CUNNINGHAM, as his heiress and olTers proof which the lonely old man accepts without much question. Among Helen's new friends are EVA ENNIS and her brother ROBERT. Brent finds another locket like the one he had taken from Nellin to prove Helen the heiress and plots to get Cunningham out of the way quickly. He slyly administers a shock which proves fatal and the servants find the old man dead in. bed. Then he wins Helen’s promise to marry him. Later, she and Bob realize they love each other, but she teils him she is engaged. She tries to get Brent to release her, but he refuses and makes dire threats If she dares to marry Bob. Eva resents Helen's treatment of her brother, which has driven him to flirting with SHALLIMAR MORRIS. She scolds Bob and he tells her Helen is engaged to Brent. She collapses after admitting that Brent has been making love to her and then in r fit of hysteria tries to take poison, but they prevent it. Helen and Bob try to tell her what a cad Brent is, but Eva insists that she must see him. Helen decides to see him first, and they quarrel. when she says that she and Bob have , made up. he tells her that she is not the Cunningham heiress but the daughter oi i no.f i cro and if she refuses to many him he will expose her. NO GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER XLII (Continued) Brent's tensei cr> slackened, his tigerishness leit him. and he became on the in ant his old suave, unperturbed sel . He had been ferocious in his atiack, brutal, delighting in it. But he knew that his moves must now be cautious, more carefully planned. “Unfortunately, for you.” he said quietly, “you can not prove your innocence.” CHAPTER XLIII "T>OB will believe me!” .D Helen declared • her faith In her lover's trust without a moment's' hesitation. Surprisingly* Brent nodded his head in agreement. “Won’t you sit down now?” he said. “I’ve something more to say to you.” He glanced at his watch. “Or perhaps you’d better send your friend Shallimar off to the station before we go on with this.” Helen sank into a chair. “She’s in the breakfast room,” she said weakly. “Tell her I'd like her to take a later train; I can't see her off now.” Brent left to do her bidding, but was quickly back. He noted, as soon as he entered the room, a cnange in Helen. Given a few moments to think she had decided he was lying to her. tricking her. How simple It was. of course. She felt like laughing, only somehow there was. strangely, inexplicably, an odor of truth about it all. She fought against it. "I hated to tell you this,” Brent began, deceived by her manner into thinking whe was not going to take It so hard after all. Helen threw back her head and held her eyes fastened levelly on his. "I don’t believe a word you have said,” she stated emphatically. “You don’t?” Brent came close grasped her wrists with cruel strength, forced her down into the chair and towered over her in a menacing attitude. “You don’t?” he repeated. “Then listen to me. I can prove that you are Helen Page, and not Cunningham's granddaughter. That will be easy.” Helen still defied him. “But you ran not prove what is not true,” she cried. "You can not prove that I had anything to do with your fraud.” m a a “TT will not be necessary to prove J. it.” Brent retorted. “If you persists in marrying young Ennis I shall make your story front page newspaper stuff inside twenty-four hours. What then? You aren’t Helen Nellin. don't forget that. You'll be toppled from your high and mighty seat to the gutter—possibly you'll have a chance to learn what women's prisons were built for.” “But you . . . you.” Helen stammered. "You would go to prison too.” "Don’t be a fool.” Brent snapped at her. “I’ll be safely out of it. You'll be left to stand the gaff alone. Your exposure will come through Information that I shall supply indirectly to the authorities. *T!I give the thing to the newspapers at the, time- Let your boy friend by ybu then.

i Suppose you went free—there’d always be a doubt in the public mind about your innocence. What would that mean to Ennis?” Helen saw at once that it would be irreparable injury to his career, but only the deepening pain in her eyes'answered Brent. It was enough. “Do for him, wouldn’t it? Even if he believed you, and there’s a good chance that he won’t.” Helen had one lucid thought. “He will believe me.” she said, “because he will know that I wouldn't have dared to think of marrying him if this were true and you held me in your power.” Brent regarded her admiringly. “Rather clever,” he praised. “But not weighty enough. “He’s apt to imagine you thought you could handle me.” “Oh, you are fiendish!” “Merely determined, my dear, that no upstart like Ennis is going to spoil my plans now.” “Then you think I will consent to go on with this deception . . . this imposture?” Helen cried, amazed that he should know her so little he could believe such a thing possible. “For the sake of millions, and your liberty, yes,” Brent admitted. “It's unthinkable!” Helen stormed. “You will have to prove what you have said—that I am not Helen Cunningham’s daughter—and if it is true I shall i enounce the fortune my. elf!” “Oh you will?” Brent sneered. “Well, my noble young lady, do that trifling little th ng and you’ll have plenty of time to repent behind the bars.” “Bou you can’t prove that I—” “Are you really s<rdense that you fail to see your position itself will prove it for me?” Brent cut in. “Confession on my part will throw the burden of defen ;e on you, and what will you fight with? “You haven’t a penny of your own. And you will need money, and friends, Puplic opinion, public sympathy, will be against you from the start—taking in a dying old man—lying to him, just waiting for him to—” “Oh, no, no,” Helen wailed. “A pretty picture, no?” Brent pressed on. “Daughter of once famous crook comes into her own as queen of impostors. Blindly matuated young law student remains loyal, turning his back upon his career for the sake of a bewitching face,. Not so bad, eh? I'll make it dramatic enough, don’t worry!” a a a HELEN bowed her face in her hands and Brent observed her shaking young body without pity. “On the otheivhand,” he said at last, “you can have everything. And love is not a lasting thing, Helen. Don't be hoodwinked by that notion. It’s been exploded too many times. “Astonishing that any ope continues to believe in it. You will forget Ennis, even if it takes time. But you never could- forget—the world wouldn’t let you—that you ruined his life, robbed him -of the chance to look every man in the face—that seems to be the absurd ambition of any number of brainless idiots." he added dryly. "I .*. . J 'don't have to marry him." Helen gulped. “I can give the money back to Mr. Cunningham’s lawyer and go away somewhere.” “Yes. if the police will let you,” Brent, agreed. 'You will tell, whether I marry Bob or net? You wouldn't let me restore the money and—” “Certainly not.” Brent returned firmly. “You will either marry me or face exposure. And I warn you, Helen. I won't stand for any nonsense. You'll come through all the way or you'll take the rap—underworld jargon.’’ he sAiiled with mock apology. "It means plenty. “You've led a sheltered life, my dear, you know nothing whatsoever of the hell that awaits you if you let yourself in for a stretch up the river. Bettor give it a lot of thought before you decide.” x “There isn't anything to decide.” Helen said brokenly. “I can not marry you.” For a moment Brent said nothing. Then: “You may feel differently about it when you've had time to think it over. In the meantime

—By Williams

you might go into social service and find out at first hand what happens to jailbirds. “And —if you can arrange it—go take a look at the poor devils in prison. Don’t settle your fate blindly, without knowing what you’re doing. You’ll never be able to undo it. “You’d be in the morgue in no time at all after they. let you go with your poison pallor and your prison-marked soul. A girl like you! God, you’d become a dope fiend!” Helen shrank down into her chair. The back of her hand flew to her mouth to stifle a scream. “I think life with me would be preferable to that,” Brent continued. “As your husband I should be far more interested in your fortune than in you, Helen. I am not, fortunately, in love with you.” “You mean,” Helen looked at him hopefully, “that you wouldn’t want to live with me?” ana BRENT shrugged. Having gained a point he w'as willing to concede one, as promises meant nothing to him. Helen’s question signified that a weakening wedge had entered her horror-filled mind, giving him his first tangible advantage. Her next question was less pleasant. “Why?” she asked, “couldn’t I give you half the money if . . . if you can prove that I am not Helen Nellin, and I decide to keep it?” “What a bright idea!” Brent exclaimed sarcastically. “Don’t you know that the money isn’t under your control, and that it would direct suspicion upon both of us if you gave away any large amount of it?” He did not add .that it was his intention to gain possession of her entire fortune in time. The ray of hope, if she’d really entertained it, faded out of Helen’s mind. Her native honesty conquered it. “I can't do it,” she sobbed. “Snap out of it,” Brent corn* manded harshly. “I’m not an ogre. I’ll keep out of your way. It is merely a matter of convenience.” Helen wiped her eyes. “But if I'm not Helen Nellin I can’t keep the money,” she declared. “Why not? Even when you consider it on the basis of fairness, you have a right to it. The right of possession. Different perhaps—even I will admit it—if there were other heirs—a real Helen Nellin Evangeline, rather. You see, you never had her name. Helen is your only given name, Evangeline Helen as you supposed.” “Evangeline.” Helen repeated after him. “I can't believe you yet, Leonard, but if there is a real Evangeline Nellin I'm going to find her.” “Don’t get exicted,” Brent advised. “I've attended to that. I've had her searched for practically all over the face of the globe.” “Do you expect me to believe that?” Helen blazed at him. (To Be Continued)

THE RETURN OF TARZAN

Hours later the heat of the sun awoke Tarzan. He was parched with thirst, but forgot that in the joy of a discovery. Near the derelict rose and fell an overturned lifeboat, and far off was faint dim lirfe of the shore. Diving into the refreshing cool ocean, he succeeded in righting the little craft.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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Selecting several pieces of wreckage for oars, he - was soon making good headway toward the distant shore. Late in the afternoon he came close enough to distinguish the contour of the land. It was strangely familiar! Could it be possible that fate had cast him up on the threshold of his beloved jungle?

—By Ahern

f BUT, EASY, \ RMSi THEY GOT ' THEN cot oil j BUT SOUR HUNDRED AMD l MINUTE TO LOSE <jOT T O j WELLS GALORE, I NINETY THOUSAND BUCKS. I / 7 <fOP 'EM! r-" 1 AN’ PALACES, j KNOW 1 I’VE B,EEN iNNESTt- ( V an - y\ gating Their recoro ever — V SINCE I LEFT YOU IN J , .... . J rc

!* __ never. f r _ . - ( NEITHER OID 1 - &OT

As the bow of his boat entered the little harbor, the last shred of doubt vanished! There before him, in the primeval forest, stood his own cabin, built before his birth by the hand of his long-dead father, Lord Greystoke. The ape-man leaped ashore, his heart beating fast in exultation.

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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t \ ry> —\ I IMAGINE YOU TALKING ABOUT CHEAP \ / 1 /POOS Y* NOTORIETY AFTER THE WAY THE BUTTONS \ ' AMD HOW YOU HATED IT I f NIOHT L HAVE BEEN POPPING OFr YOUR VEST I WHEN THE. GARBAGE MAN / > POPCOOOi^ SIMPLY BECAUSE THAT BESPECTACLED / RECOGNIZED YOU BY THE \ ( NIGHT , MAP Os yoORS WAS REPRODUCED IN / NEWSPAPERS AND SLAPPED j > ITOM \Jy THE PAPERS IN CONNECTION WITH / YOU ON THE BACK. YOU I ■ MEN *, BOY, ARE J // YOU FUNNY*?!! S'

Bv Edgar Rice Burroughs

Here were the long familiar objects. The little brook, the black impenetrable jungle. Myriad birds in their brilliant plummage—gorgeous tropical blooms failing in festooned, loops. Tarzan of the Apes had come into hi* own aqain. He threw back his head, making tli£ silence ring with an ape’s wild challenge.'

OCT. 22, 1929

—By Martin

—By Blossei

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Taylor