Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 172, Indianapolis, Marion County, 28 November 1929 — Page 13

NOV. 28, 1929.

Olfr OUR WAY

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LUVE AiW MYITfRY |JA 2 gg^j m IjWjWAPOUS HUMORAMPTRft6fI7Y i j/V^/^oOßPOM turner

BEGIN HERE TODAY FRANK SHERIDAN, wealthy youni: Indianapolis lawyer, whose hobby is the ■olvlng of crime mys'.c-ie*. is making a double investigation Into a safe robbery at the Mar'e road horn* of WiI.EIAM OLIVER WiI.BER, inventor and manufarturer. ami into the strange death by e>troru*ion of I,ENA SWARTZ. P. in the Wilber home. From the safe was sto’en a rliarv of Wilber’s wife, now dead, which contains a secret of the birth of SHEII. A. Wilber’s danjhler, who was engaped to marry JOSEPH 8 MEDLEY, assistant Marion county prosecutor. The diary was stolen by RII.EY MORGAN, burglar client of HOMER MENTON, unprincipled criminal lawver. who gets oftbedlary and persuades ANDY MASTERS. Sheila’s wayward cousin, to Join in a black mail plot against Wilber. Andy, vhi'e intoxicated, tells Sheila she is a foundling and has no legal right to Wilber's name. Sheila surprises her father in!., partial confirmation of Andy’s accusation and. feeling herself dis-rpeed. returns her engagement ring to s-eriley. Andy has been paying court to EDNA RODGERS. Sheila’s chum, but has an afiair with Menton’s stenogrnnher. MFRECF.DIES RIVERTON. M-nton is killed and Aandy Injured in an nuto accident before the p.ot against Ytilber can he put into eNeeution. Merer ’es, in tile same accident, escapes injury and plavs the ro’.e of Andy’s nurse at his apartmeqt. which Is presided over by IKE SELLERS, Andy's valet. Chastened bv their narrow escape from death. Andy and Mercy plan to get the dirirv from Menton’s office and return U NOW 1 GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER THIRTY THESE were dark days for Sheila, Mrs. Hendricks, the housekeeper, had returned, and the household machinery was running smoothly. Outwardly, nothing had changed, but to Sheila, the world was turned upside down. She felt herself alien to all around her. Smedley had called at the house and telephoned frantically, but she refused to see or talk to him. To Edna and her other friends, she pleaded illness and kept almost constantly to her room. Wilber saw her only at meals, but an insurmountable wall seemed to have arisen between them. Since the one painful interview following Andy’s visit, both instinctively had avoided mention of the subject uppermost in their minds. Sheila was not satisfied with the fragmentary disclousres made by Wilber, but she shrunk from further revelation. Wilber, though torn with anxiety, wisely awaited a better time. Then came the news of Andy’s accident. It was a countershock to Sheila and turned her mind from herself. Instantly the old tie of affection for her cousin asserted Itself. She had not resented his disclosure of her birth secret —Wilber’s confirmation of it had erased her first anger. She. inquired eagerly as to Andy’s condition and would have gone to him at once, but was restrained by Wilber, who advised her to wait until he had prepared the way. “A nurse?* Sheila exclaimed, when Wilber had reported on his visit to Andy's apartment. "Yes, a very capable young woman.” Wilber replied, ’’a Miss Riverton, I believe.” "Miss Riverton!” "Yes, I think that was the name. Why, do you know her?” Sheila bit her lip nervously. “I—l don’t know,” she said, and fled from the room. Wilber looked after her in amazement. "Now, what have I done?” he muttered, "surely she can’t object to a nurse.” Alone in her room, Sheila faced this new development. Miss Riverton—it must be Mercy . . . yes, she had been with him when the car was wrecked . . . that girl . . . there with Andy, alone with him in his apartment. . . Suddenly her face burned. Her mind flashed to the last time she had seen Andy, his angry defense of Mercy, his assertion that "at least, she was not born out of wedlock." She flung herself on her knees, her arms outstretched. "Oh. God,” she cried in ugony of soul, “Oh, God, who am I to judge? Oh. what a hateful snob I've been. Until this happened I felt so superior toward everybody who did not have the advantages which have been heaped upon me advantages that I never earned, that I never worked for. "I locked down on girls like Mercy Riverton, without knowing, as I know now, that if our places in the world had been reversed, I might not have done so well. “This is my punishment, to know now that if people knew everything about me, they would shun me as I have shunned the Mercy Rivertons.” In calf-abasement, In humility of

spirit, she prayed, and with the flood of tears that followed, she found a blessed peace. u an SHEILA arrived at Andy's apartment at almost the same hour that Sheridan was questioning Riley Morgan at the point of a pistol on a lonely country road. She drove there alone in her own car. Though her face was unnaturally pale and showed the strain of the emotional storm through which she had passed, she was in complete control of herself again. She stood silently for a moment after Ike opened for her the door to the living room and waited until he had retreated to the kitchen. Andy so far had recovered that the doctor had permitted him to leave his bed. With his arm in a sling, but with most of the headbandages discarded, he was installed in a lounging chair at a window overlooking the apartment house entrance. He had seen Sheila park her car at the curb and had warned Mercy. Mercy and Andy had awaited Sheila's visit with apprehension. Both recalled the distressing scenes which marked their last meetings— Andy’s attack on Sheila’s birthright and Mercy’s quarrel with her following the roadhouse encounter. Andy was wholly repentant, but Mercy, jealous of Sheila’s influence over Andy and still resentful of Sheila’s contemptuous treatment of herself, was warily on the defensive. Neither, of course, had an inkling of the soul-probing ordeal Sheila had undergone; neither saw in the tall, pale-faced girl who faced them with serious, sorrowful eyes, a chastened, humbled Sheila. Mercy stood with an arm across the high back of Andy's chair. Andy started to rise, but Sheila darted across the room and pushed him gently back into his chair. "No, no, you’re ill,” she protested, “you mustn't get up.” She stooped and kissed him. Then she whirled about and swept Mercy into her arms. “You’re a dear,” she said, her face pressed closely to Mercy’s bobbed curls, “it’s so good of you to come here and take care of him. * I can’t tell you how grateful we all are. "Papa says you are a wonderful nurse. And—and I hate myself for the way I talked to you that other time!” t Mercy, startled by Sheila’s unexpected actions and words, struggled from the girl’s embrace and sank gasping into a chair. This was far from the greeting she had expected! She tried to speak, but no words would come. Andy was the first to recover speech. “That’s mighty sporting of you, Sheila,” he said feelingly, "Oh, Sheila, can you ever forgive me for what I did—what I said—” "Please, please. Andy,” Sheila interrupted pleadingly, "let’s not talk about that. There’s nothing to forgive.” She sat on the broad arm of his chair and took his hand. “It was the truth, Andy,” shp continued in a low voice, and I must face it, no matter how it hurts.

“I think, dear. I have been crazy —clear out of my mind. It was such a sudden change from all I had been—all I thought of myself. My pride was all tom to pieces ... to And you are a nobody, oh, It is hard to bear! ... I kept thinking of what people would think if they knew . . . how they would sr.cer at me, laugh at me—at me who had always carried my head so high. "And then, last night, it came to me that I was just picturing myself how I would have acted toward anybody else who had suffered such a blow and that this was a punishment for my holier-than-thou selfishness. "It made me look at things differently. I saw that I had been quick to judge others harshly when maybe they couldn’t have helped themselves . . . “It’s the end of everything for me, Andy—l have nothing to look forward to—but I know I’ll never again look down on anybody whose station of life or mode of conduct is different from mine—or—or what mine has been. I have been horrid to you and Mercy ” She broke off abruptly, suddenly remembering they were not alone. She glanced apprehensively at

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Mercy. Andy intercepted the glance and squeezed her hand tenderly. "You mustn’t talk that way. Sheila,” he said. "It’s all going to come out right and Mercy and I are going to help all we cam Mercy knows all that I know about it, but nobody else need know a thing. "Nobody’s going to have a chance to sneer or laugh at you. It’s going to be a close family secret, just ydu and I and Mercy and Uncle Bill. I want to tell you, Sheila, Mercy is to be one of the family —she is going to marry me, knowing I’ve got nothing but myself to offer. She’s true blue, Sheila, and you can trust her with your life.” Sheila’s eyes were filled with tears as she went to Mercy with her arms outstretched. They clung to each other a moment. Then Mercy led Sheila to a chair and sank down beside her. "You said something a while ago about facing the truth—l have had to face it, too,” Mercy said. “You were right that time you said I was trying to trap Andy; I was, but I got caught in my own trap. “I thought all I wanted was Andy’s money, but when Andy told me his money was all gone, I found out than Andy meant more to me than all the money in the world.” Then she poured into Sheila’s ears the whole story. They talked together for a long time. Sheila was distressed to learn that Andy’s fortune had vanished. For the time her own troubles were forgotten. They were brought back to her poignantly as she was preparing to leave. She was standing near Andy. She picked up her driving gloves from a table beside his chair. Andy’s eyes followed the movement of her hands. "Sheila!” he exclaimed, “Where is your engagement ring?” She dropped the gloves. Her face paled. “I—l—that’s all over—l couldn’t, couldn’t marry Joe,” she said; “everything is so different now.” “Nonsense, Sheila,” nothing is changed,” Andy protested. “You are the same girl you always were—you mustn’t let a morbid idea ruin your happiness.” Sheila did not reply. She again took up her gloves and her eyes fell upon a small, neatly wrapped package on the table, addressed and stamped for mailing. She mechanically read the address and seized upon the opportunity to turn the conversation away from herself. “Why. this is addressed to papa,” she said, taking the parcel in her hand. “What is it, Andy?" “Oh, that—that—” Andy stuttered in embarrassment, “why, that—oh, it’s just some papers I am returning to Uncle Bill.’’ “Well, I’m going right home,” she said, oblivious to his distress. “I’ll take them with me and save you a trip to the letter-box.” Sheila went out with the little percel under her arm. Andy and Mercy stared at each other in dismay. (To Be Continued)

THE RETURN OF TARZAN

For the first time in months a smile of peace and happiness lighted Jane’s face. “I was in time after all!” cried the ape-man, coming to tha ground in a little grassy clearing. The girl, still dazed from her terrible experience, could not believe her senses. Were they not in Heaven? “No. dear, we are both very much alive,” laughed Tarzait

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

IS REftL CftUSE Pen, “'N OKAS', &U2-Z.-1 AINiTO ( AN 1 ANOTHeft. STUNT UKe TrtfrT AN’ I'LL. *rUAMK.s-(3UT, pef<’\£f*\oerc.,SAM-) please everybodyl . \ ISiD slacken the. other qm&l ,

MOM’N POP

U4D YOU DON’T KNOW \T THE HAWK ( inhat OOP NATIONAL BVPD J OP THE SPAPPOW / SUPPPISED. YOU \ \S? X y ' OP THE / DON’T KNOW THE \ POBIN REDBREAST l B'PD THAT STANDS \

“How can I convince you that I am no spirit? Yes, it was I whom the delightful ‘Monsieur Thuran’ pushed overboard, but I did not drown, and here I am very much the same wild man you first knew.” The girl rose slowly to her feet and came toward him. “I can not even yet believe it,” she murmured. “Such happiness must be unreal after all these hideous months 1*

—By Martin

She came close to him and laid a hand, soft and trembling, upon his arm. “It must be that I am dreaming, and that I shall awaken to see that awful knife descending toward my heart. Kiss me, just once, before I lose my dream forever.” Tarzan of the Apes needed no second invitation. He took the girl he loved in his strong arms and kissed hex, mt auca but a hundred timfr ,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Yet when he stopped she put her arms alpout his neck and drew his lips down to hers once more. For a while both were silent with the wonderful happiness that had come to them. The past was forgotten —the future did not belong to them. But the present, ah, it was theirs; none could take it from them. It wa# the who first broke the sweet sUaaMb

PAGE 13

—By Ahern

—By Blossen

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Taylor;