Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 245, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 February 1930 — Page 24

PAGE 24

OUT OUR WAY

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Hortative c NEA Service Inc. aiuS (ft LAURA LOU BROOKMAN

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE (Continued.) Tony raised on tip-toe, k:ssed her father, said good-night and disappeared. Alone, Arthur Knight drew the letter from his pocket and read it over once more for the hundredth time. That tirst sentence held his attention. “Something has happened which is taking me away for a short time.” What had taken her away? And what did she mean by a “short time”? Was it a day, three days, a week? Already, to Knight's reasoning, Judith had been gone a long while. It was about four hours since he had known of her disappearance, but she must have left the house much earlier. Hours earlier, probably. When—and why? That was the big doubt, of course, back of all the others. Why? It came over Arthur Knight then with startling emphasis how little he really knew of his young wife. In those first glorious days of courtship and honeymoon nothing had mattered. There had been only the realization that this beautiful and charming creature was willing to be his. Then had come the difficulties of readjustment in his home and in the office, the children’s hostility and prejudices to overcome, unexpected burdens in business. Once, he recalled now, Judith had tried to tell him something—something about her life before they had met. He could not recall even one word of it now. He had told her the past was to be forgotten, did not even exist. He had said Grimly Arthur Knight closed his eyes to shut out sights which would not be dismissed so easily. He brushed his hair back, sprang to his feet and began to pace back and forth. “ J udith —Jud ith! ” It was a cry from the depths of the man’s heart. Tire harsh, despairing whisper died as it was half uttered. Yes. He had lost her. “Something had happened!” It meant, of course, that she would not oome back. She was trying to make the thing easier for him. “A short time.” she said. “A short time! Oh, God —! He realized that he been staring at the table against the wall for a long while. There was a lamp on it, and several books. The lamp was one which Judith had bought. Nearly everything in the room was new. She had purchased all this when the house had been redecorated. He could hear her voice and her excited laughter the day she had brought him upstairs to see the new room. Then there had been other days— Wearily Knight dragged himself to his feet. He must stop this, of course. He was very tired. What good would thinking about it all do? Slowly he walked across the room, turned the knob of the door leading to Judith's room and opened it. He turned an electric switch and looked about him. After thru he went back to his own room, undressed and got into bed. nan IT ATHRYN TUPPER and Tony iV Knight were together in the sun room. It was the afternoon of he first day after Judith's departure. Tire secretary had arrived at the house on time for her afternoon's ’uties. but already she was over’ue. Apparently she had forgotten hat Knight was waiting at his ’esk. Tonv was speaking. “But she's not coming back!" she aid with determination. “That's "here you’ve got to help me. Don t ou see?” Miss Tupper's eyes lighted with i shrewd, unpleasant smile. She odded her head. “I think there may be a way," she aid slowly. “Yes—l have something in mind. I'll try ” Ten minutes later she sat with notebook and pencil poised. In the midst of a letter Arthur Knight’s voice droned into silence. “Miss Tupper," he said abruptly, you call Andy Craig and ask to drop in to see me this eve-

Miss Tupper looked up, flushing. “But—l thought—didn’t you know?” she stammered. “Mr. Craig’s left?” “Craig—left where?” The crafty light flashed across Miss Tupper’s face. “I supposed you’d heard, Mr. Knight,” she hurried on. “Mr. Craig left the office yesterday afternoon and noody knows where he's gone. I'm afraid there’s been talk among the employes,” she added apologetically. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO WITH a jolt and groan of grinding brakes the train pulled into the station. “All out!” shouted a guard. “Pennsylvania station! All out!” Judith arose and joined the others, pushing toward the door of the car. In one hand she clutcheu the small black traveling bag. Someone behind brushed boldly past her, crowding Judith against the row of seats, knocking her hat and tipping it at a grotesque angle. “Excuse me, ma’am!” A young man wearing a light overcoat had spoken. He awkwardly was trying to untangle a button of his coat from the fur of Judith's cuff in which it was caught. “Oh—of course,” she murmured. The tangle was undone. The young man hurried forward and the girl followed. All the others seemed in a rush to get out of the car. Judith was at the end of the procession, almost the last to leave. She stepped out on the long cement passageway and looked about her uncertainly. Red caps were moving back and forth, some carrying luggage, others looking for patrons. “Carry your bag, lady?” Judith shook her head at the boy who had approached. She turned and followed the throng up the stairway. In the vast upstairs waiting room other red caps came to her assistance. The girl refused their services. Her pale, bewildered expression was what attracted them. Where to now? Judith had made no plans. It had all seemed quite simple while she was at home, packing and making last-minute preparations. The main thing then was to get away—quickly before any one should miss her. Once on the car, she had assured herself, she could decide where to go, how to spend these miserable two weeks. Instead of planning, throughout the ride to the city, she had sat dazed and still, trying to realize what had happened. She could not realize it, could not believe it—even yet! Forlorn and helpless, the girl put down her luggage and waited. Every one else in the huge station seemed intent on getting somewhere, so energetic, so sure of themselves. But of course she must be on her way too. A glance at the big clock told Judith it was twenty minutes of 5. The rush of homebound suburbanites was already begun. The afternoon would soon be ended. n n n STILL carrying her leather traveling bag. Judith walked through i the station and out upon Seventh avenue. She walked until she came to a white-tiled restaurant. An inconspicuous table beside the left wall was vacant. Judith sat | there. She was not hungry, but she could order food her and wait until she ; had made up her mind what to do next. “What's your order, madam?” The blond girl in green and white costume who stood beside her glanced down with a friendly sinile. She was holding an opened menu forward. “Tea.” Judith told her. ”A pot of tea and buttercakes.” It was a familiar order. Force of habit prompted it. Some five minutes later, when the waitress returned with the plate of steaming hot bread, Judith was not aware she had asked for food. She poured her tea and sipped the soothing beverage. Well—she must decide what next. Judith began to wonder if Arthur Kinght had received her note yet. ut. Tupper must hare left the

—By Williams

house by this time. Perhaps he was reading the note now. The dilemma was still so fresh in her mind she could not escape a ridiculous, secret notion that presently she would wake ad find it had all been a dream. If not that, surely Arthur or some agent of fate would appear and tell her everything was a mistake and that she should come he me. No. That was impossible. Arthur was not even permitted to leave the house. And there was no way foi him to trace her whereabouts if he could come. One thing was clear in Judith’s mind. Se was not going to leave the metropolis. If two weeks must be spent in loneliness, she would spend them here. She was aware, of course, that there is nowhere in the world a hiding place so secure and safe as the crowded, teaming island of Manhattan. Again she came back to the problem—where to next? Judith thought of the rooming house in which she had lived before her marriage. No, she did not want to return there. She did not want, to meet any one who had ever known her before. She considered other sections of the city, sections which wei-e vaguely familiar and which she thought she could afford. This last clause set restrictions. Judith Knight had less than SSO in her purse. It was Arthur’s money. She had not wanted to take even that much, but of course she must live. It would be ample for two weeks of the frugal existence she knew well. Suddenly the name of a hotel north of Columbus Circle came to mind. Judith did not recall who had told her of it. It might have been long ago during those weeks in business school. No—she remembered now. It was a place Andy Craig had mentioned. Andy had said the hotel was clean and cheap. Judith drained the teapot. Then she picked up her luggage and paid her check. Ten minutes later she boarded an uptown subway express. st an THE rush hour was on. Judith clutched a swaying strap, pinioned between men and women who had ended a day’s work, and now, worn and tired-eyed, were going home. The stale air was nauseating. The thunderous roar tormented her eardrums and the jolting, rickety course pitched passengers against one another. They jostled and some of them swore. “I used to do this every day,” Judith thought. “How did I ever stand it?” (To Be Continued)

THE BEASTS OF TARZAN

After setting the infernal machine Paulvitch blew out the lamp and stepped from the cabin. Cautiously he made his way to his former bunk and hastily gathered together his few possessions, crossed the deck and lowered himself in silence into his canoe. A minute or two later he was paddling toward the shore to be swallowed up in the darkness of the jungle night, meanwhile congratulating himself on the promising success of his plans.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS IT

SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

Could he have had even a slight foreknowledge of what awaited him in the long years to come in the terrors of a hideous jungle existence he would have fled to the certain death of the open sea rather than endure it. But for the moment his thoughts were occupied with his landed triumph and his earlier life in old Russia, where he had been taught the dastardly business by which he now believed he had doomed the Kincaid.

—By Martin

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Years before, under the rule of the czar in his native land, Paulvitch had been a prominent member of a famous and much feared band of Nihilists. In old St. Petersburg he had learned and practiced the making of these deadly machines which so often laid low the hated upper classes. To escape Siberia he had finally Joined Rokoff’s band to embark upon that villain's kidnaping expedition and its promise of gold,

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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Tweße's onlv ons ltFt fv-i* v+e's Y —. " *—’ ■

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

- — ————1

During the long voyage to the African coast he had employed his spare time in constructing the infernal machine whose potential destructiveness could wipe out in the fraction of a second every enemy aboard the Kincaid. Paulvitch licked his lips in anticipatory joy. “Life and vengeance are not to elude me after all,” he thought as he visioned the outcome of this night’s grewsome work.

.FEB. 21, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

-—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan