Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 169, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 November 1929 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OUT OUR WAY

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BEGIN HERE TODAY FRANK SHERIDAN, wealthy young Indianapolis lawyer who e .iobhy u solving crime mysteries, is malting a double investigation in.o a safe robbery at the heme of WII LIAM f* T T VET WILBER, invent" r and •ne-’-fe't-rer. end into the .•-.r.-n-i f'oath by electrocution of LENA C./ARTZ, a maid in the Wilber home. From the safe v.'as stolen a diary of lowers Vn.e, iu' dead, which contained a secret of tne birth of SHEILA. Wilber's daughter, who is engaged to marry JOSEPH SMEDLEY. assistant Marlon county prosecutor. She-ldan sees a '’ossM'e connection between Lena’s death and the safe robberv. Suspicion points to R4LEY MORGAN, a burglar client .of HOMER MENTON. an unprincipled criminal lawyer, and to ANDY MASTERS. Sheila's wayward cousin, who for mercenary reasons, wants to marry EDNA ROGERS, Sheila's chum, but is entangled in a love affair with MERCEDES RIVERTON, a stenographer in Menton's office. Sheridan learns that Menton and Masters are in a conspiracy to blackmail Wilber bv threat of making public the contents of the stolen diary. Andy, while intoxicated, tells Shelia she is a foundling and has no legal right to Wilber's name. Sheila surprises her father into partially confirming Andy's accu.saiion. Feeling herself disgraced, she returns her eigagement ring to Smedlcv. Homer Menton is killed and Andy Masters injured in an auto accident. Mercedes Riverton, also a passenger in the car, escapes iilJu ‘now go on with the story CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN UNHURT in the auto crash, except for a trifling scratch or two but pinioned in the twisted, tilted body of the car, Mercy saw Andy crumple in his seat. She glimpsed the agony in his face as his head fell forward on the wheel. She shrieked in terror, and then a black pall descended upon her. She had fainted. She revived as she was being lifted from the car and walked the few steps to the police ambulance In a daze. But she came to her full seftses when she looked down upon Andy's motionless form and blood-stained face. She shook off the suDporting arm of her attendant and threw herself down beside the injured youth. His eyes opened and he groaned in pain. “Oh, thank Goci, thank God!" she cried fervently, “he’s not dead!” She started to lift his head into her lap. but her arms were gently drawn away. 'You might hurt him." the officer said. It was a short ride to the hospital. but it seemed ages to Mercy.' She seemed unaware of the other broken body on the opposite side of the ambulance —the silent shape of Menton, only partially hidden by the blanket that had been draped over it. Her eyes saw only Andy. As he was being taken into the receiving ward at the.hospital, Andy recovered full consciousness. Mercy rebelled against being separated from him and almost sang with joy when told a little later that his injuries were not serious—that a broken arm was his major hurt. After her minor cuts had been treated and she was told she might go home, she refused to leave until she had seen Andy again. She remembered. when this request had been denied, that Dr. Rice, was Andy’s physican. She got him on the phone and insisted he coihe to the hospital. He did not arrive until after daybreak, and Mercy kept lonely vigil in the visitor's reception room. Dr. Rice talked with hospital physicians and visited Andy before he sought out Mercy. “Young lady.” he said gravely, “what are your qualifications as a nurse?” "A nurse!" Mercy exclaimed. “I’m not a nurse.” "Well, a certain young man thinks you can fill the bill,” he replied. “The young idiot insists upon going home. That boy must have the constitution of an ox: he's not suffering a bit from shock and as his Injuries are only superficial, there is nothing to worry about. “He seems to have the layman's usual dislike for hospitals—though the Lord knows. I don’t see why anybody feels that wav—ro we've agreed tc let him go home if he will employ a nurse for a few days. He asserts he wants you for the job. “That arrangement will be satisfactory. as there is nothing for a nurse to do but see that he keeps quiet and stays in bed until I let him up. but it's quite an imposition upon you.” “Oh. no, no!” Mercy cried, “I’d love to do it! And doctor. I had a course in first aid; I know just what to do.” “That's fine.” the doctor smiled dryly, “but you leave the first-aid work to me; I’ll change the bandages." And so, Mercy became a member

of Andy’s household, but she was a new Mercy—a subdued, thoughtful gentler Mercy—not at all the headstrong, self-centered girl who had c arted on the ride than ended in Menton’s death and Andy’s injury. The long night of waiting at the hospital alone with her thoughts had wrought the change. She had been told that Menton was dead, but with her whole mind centered upon Andy, her employer’s death for the time affected her little. Andy’s inquiries about Menton had been evaded at the hospital and he was not told of the lawyer’s death until after he was safely at home. The tragic news was broken by Dr. Rice who accompanied him and Mercy to the apartment. Andy made no sound—no outcry—but his eyes were eloquent of the torture of his thoughts. He lay silent, while the physician gave Mercy final instructions for his care. Unresistingly, he gulped a sedative and did not respond to the doctor’s parting. words of cheer. Slowly the sleep-inducing drug took effect; he lapsed into blessed unconsciousness. Who knows what goes on behind the wall of sleep, what mysterious realms are visited and explored by the subconscious mind, what alchemy of brain cells sifts and sorts and rearranges the stored thoughts and impressions of a lifetime, leaving only the result to be impressed upon and to influence the waking mind? Psychological research miracles wrought in sleep—an engineer, after weeks of concentration of an abstruse problem: he sleeps and awakens with the answer in his mind. A writer, brought to nn impasse in his story’s plot, sinks into troubled sleep and. 10, with the dawn the plot logically unfolds. Did something like this, induced by his physical injuries and the mental shock of Menton’s death, happen to Andy? Who knows? It is enough that with his awakening the whole current of his life was changed. ♦ a a ANDY, his head swathed In bandages and his left arm in a plaster cast strapped across his breast, was propped high on the pillows of the bed, listening to a newspaper account of the accident, read to him by Mercy. Under the caption. “Lawyer Dies In Motor Crash.” The Times said: “Marion county’s mounting toll of traffic deaths for the year reached sixty-four Monday night in the death of Homer Menton, 32, attorney, with offices in the First National Bank building. “Menton's neck was broken when he was thrown from an auto which crashed into a loading platform. “Andrew Masters, 25, driver of the car, suffered a broken arm and cuts about the hands and face. Miss Mercedes Riverton. 22, Menton's secretary, also a pessenger in the car, escaped with slight cuts. “According to police reports, witnesses of the accident said Masters was not at fault. His car. prooceding south on Pennsylvania street, was crowded into the loading platform by another auto which swerved suddenly to the left. Masters hit the nlatform in trying to avert a collision. The other car did not stop. “Masters is a nephew of W. O. Wilber, president of the Wilber Electric Company. He refused to remain at citv hospital after h’s injuries were dressed, and was taken to his apartment. “Menton’s body was removed from the hospital to the county morgue. i “Menton came to Indianapolis about ten years ago from San Francisco, shortly after his graduation from a law school there. He was admitted to the Indiana bar and established a practice here. He specialized in criminal law. He was unmarried. A brother in San Francisco has been notified of his death.” “Poor old Homer.” Andy said as Mercy concluded, "but, Mercy, you I know I cou’dn't have helped it; it wasn’t as if I had been drinking—i I was cold sober.” Mercy knelt by the bed and gently stroked his head. “Os course, you were not to blame.” she said. “You mustn't worry about It. Why. everybody—the police and everybody—say you couldn’t have done anything else with that other car almost running us down.’*

—"Rv Wi l Harris

"I know,” he assented, “but there’s something that’s got me all twisted up. Do you know, if I hadn’t been the cause'of it, I’d be almost glad it happened. I know I oughtn’t to feel that way but I can’t help it.” He had been staring at the ceiling; now he turned a distressed, perplexed face to Mercy. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Homer,” he continued. “His—his death somehow has jolted the cobwebs out of my brain—l mean it has made me think differently about him and that's what’s so queer. I’m all turned ’round. I—l—,” he hesitated, groping for words. In a moment they poured out in a flood. “Mercy!” he cried, “I’ve been heading for hell and Homer was greasing the skids. Somehow, I see it all now. Oh, I know I never was an angel, but until I met him, I hadn’t become a devil. “I was only a kid, but I guess I didn't—don’t know very much. It seemed great to have him as a friend and to pattern my ways after his. He could talk so convincingly. He was cynical, and I thought that was smart. “He laughed at morality and said that nobody got anywhere by being goody-goody; I thought that was wise and the mark of the modern man of affairs and did things and thought things and agreed to things that in my sober moments I was ashamed of. “My sober moments! Great God, Mercy, I haven’t had many lately! Oh, Homer wasn’t all to blame; it was the booze, too. ’Fore God, Mercy. I hope I have the strength and decency never to drink another drop! But Homer—you never liked him. I know, Mercy, and I used to get mad at you when you spoke scornfuliy of him. “I wouldn’t listen, but I see now where you were right and I was a fool. When he got hold of Aunt Frances’ diary—” Andy halted suddenly his torrent of confession and self-abasement. “The diary!” he exclaimed, “Mercy, we must get it back—quick, before somebody finds it there. It’s in Homer's desk.”

(To Be Continued) YUCATAN TO GET ROADS Visiting Ancient Ruins Would Be Made Easy for Tourists. By Sr inter Herrin MEXICO CITY, Nov. 25.—Bartolomo Garcia, the Maya Indian newly elected as governor of Yucatan, plans to extend the automobile roads to the famous ruined cities of Chichen Itza and Uxmal, all the way to the capital at Merida. This would enable tourists to visit each place in a day. The present roads lead only from distant railway stations to the ruins. He also projects extending the railroad from Poto, Yucatan, to the coast of Quintana Roo through Santa Cruz del Bravo, and the one from Valladolid to Puerto Morolos, on the north Quintana Roo coast. This would open up the territory of Quintana Roo to modem civilization for the first time.

THE RETURN OF TARZAN

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- - In a moment Tarzan's head was above the edge of the shaft. The court was empty. The inhabitants of Opar were viewing the sacrifice. He heart the voice of La from the near-by sacrificial court. The dance had ceased. It must be almost time for the knife to fall! But even as he t’-~; " r-'-Mdly toward the sound of the high pr.estess’ voice.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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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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F“t2 *'•* h c —w-y o' f '"e great roofless chamber. Between him and the altar was the long row of priests and pnes_.es.:s. awaiting with their golden cups the spilling of warm blood of their victim. La’s hand was descending s'owiv toward the besom cf the frail, quiet figure that lay stretched upon the hard stone.

—By Martin

Tarzan gave a gasp that was almost a sob as he recognized the features cf the woman he loved. And then the scar upon his forehead turned to a flaming band of scarlet, a red mist floated before his eyes, and, with the awful roar of the bull ape gone mad, he sprang like a huge lion into the midst of the votaries.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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S -bUT YOU MUSTN'T SIT UP 6^YtS,\MTOTHf f MORE THAN FIFTEEN / BEDROOM .1 X . X / MiNUTES AT fA TIME W x STRAIGHT AHEAD A/ \ \ GUST PUT YOUR ARM AROUND /mjM-J - V ...y. J .'i

—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Seizing a cudgel from the nearest priest, he laid about him like a veritable demon as he /, —a >~ : c t r —h tow-M altar. The hand of La had paused at the first sign of interruption. , .•■<•... a.-* iof it. she went W hite. r '~' be'> *’■> to fetfiom the £-r:'t rs th<* strings mm’s from the dungeon in which she had locked him.

NOV. 25, 1929

—By Ahem

' —By Blosser

.„ Crane

—By Small

—By Taylor