Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 274, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 March 1930 — Page 10

PAGE 10

OUT OUR WAY

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BEGIN HERE TODAY DORIS MATTHEWS, lady's maid, is murdered Friday niKht in a surmneriiouse on the llerkf Icy < -tate. hy blow from heavy perfume flask, given MRS. OEOROE BERKELEY bv SEYMOUR CROSBY. engaged to CLORINDA BERKELEY. The body, rock-weighted and tied with Clorinria s scarf, is taken from the >ake Saturday morning by DETECTIVE DUNDEE, who summons CAPTAIN STRAWN A wealth of evidence involves Mrs. Berkeley. Clorind... DICK BERKELEY, infatuated with the girl; her fiance, EUGENE ARNOLD, the Berkeley chauffeur; GIOI BERKELEY, 15-year-old daughter, and JOHN MAXWELL, former suitor of Clorinda. believed to have been with her Friday night when s'ne admits having been in the summerhouse, after • the crime. But when the detectives discover an unfinished letter of Doris to her sister. Kathy, in England, an entire new' light is thrown on the case, and Seymour Crosby, widower and New York society man. becomes .startlingly involved. Dundee, novice detective, has been a guest in the Beigeiey home largely for the purpose of observing Crosby, under a cloud fourteen months before when hts young wife. PHYLLIS, died In England. NO# GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX t Continued.) The letter ended here, the pen having left a jagged, sputtery line, as If the writer had been startled from her task. “That's when Mrs. Berkeley called her over the house telephone,” Strawn deduced. He sat down heavily on the immaculate little green bed and ejaculated “Well!” helplessly. a a a PUNDEE shuffled the sheets, frowning at a line here and a line there. “Like most letters, it’s cryptic in spots, darned cryptic, ,'but- " / “But it gives us what we’ve been I looking for in this confounded case f j-n motive.” Strawn pointed out. I “A motive pointing to one person, while all our actual facts point ■to others,” Dundee retorted. ■ “Give me a good motive and I'll ■ find farts to go with it.” Strawn ■ promised grimly. -l et me see those ■newspaper clippings on the Crosby ■case." p While the older detective studied the clippings with painstaking thoroughness. Dundee wandered about the murdered girl's room, prying reluctantly into table and dresser drawers. “Kathy" must be notified of her sister’s death, of course, but he found not a single letter bearing her signature. Possibly because she feared the curious eyes of the other maids, Doris had destroyed any and all letters she had received during her employment at Hillcrest. except a little bundle of love notes from Eugene Arnold, which Dundee found hidden beneath a pile of beautifully ironed and mended underwear. But in the table drawer he found something which interested him mightily. It was an enlarged snapshot of a tea-table croup in a garde” Slightly in the background, lookin® very much the butler, was Wirkett. Rented at the little wicker table were Seymour Crosby and a very beautiful girl, whose dark curls were blown charmingly about a piquant, wistfully smiling face. Doris’ adored “Miss Phyllis.” doubtless.

And standing by the tea table, bolding up a little Pekinese dog to be fed by Mrs. Crosby, was Doris herself, the sun making an aureole about her lovely little blond head. In very small "printing” was the inscription: "For my dear little Doris, with love. Phyllis Benham Crosbv. Mav I. *”8” "tVhat was the date of Phyllis Crosby’s death. Chief?" Dundee asked. "Sunday ni> # May 6.” Stravvn answered, after referring to the first clipping of the bunch he was reading. “Is Wickett mentioned in the newspaper story?” Dundee asked. “No. but there are severs’ refeiences to ■th 1 " butler.' ” Strawn replied. "Why?” “Because I think ’the butler* was Wickett.” Dundee obliged quietly. And I’d rather like to ask him a few questions.” “That’s easy” and Strawn marched to the door, to give the ■>rder to Detective Wilkins, still on iutv in the third floor hall. Strawn returned to his clippings '“'id Dune! e continued his search of tl' room, his object now being the key to the back door which Wickett had lent to the girl. In her handkerchief box he found • savings bank book, crediting her

with $357.42. Certainly not a very big nest egg with which to start a beauty shop. Dundee reflected. But her letter to Kathy had hinted at a way to augment the sum materially. What way? An ugly word insinuated itself into Dundee’s mind, but he dismissed it almost angrily. Not here, in this little room she had worked so hard to make attractive, could the susceptible young detective associate the w'ord blackmail with Doris Matthews. tt b a f~\X the dresser, between precisely placed green glass candlesticks holding golden-yellow tapers, sat a square-cut, rather expensive bottle of perfume. “And Doris didn't like perfume," Dundee reminded himself thoughtfully. The bottle had been opened, for the paper cap which usually covers the glass stopper had been removed, but little or none of the perfume had been used. A gift, probably, and retained as a dresser ornament, he decided, and continued his prowling. ' Heres’ the key. chief!” he cried at last. “In the pocket of her topcoat. Not the key to her own door, certainly, for that’s on the inside of the lock now.” “In her coat, eh!" Strawn frowned. “That means she intended to wear the coat when she went to meet Arnold —” "And that when she did so. she rushed out in too great a hurry to bother about coat or key," Dundee finished his chief’s sentence. “Here's something else, too!” And he untied a handkerchief, knotted about a pair of beautifully mounted sanphire earrings. There was a knock at the door and in another minute Wickett was standing at attention. “Is this the key you lent to Doris. Wickett?” Dundee asked. “Yes, sir." Do you recognize these earrings. Wickett?" The butler’s eyes widened as they took in the expensive ornaments, but he answered guardedly: “I can’t say positively, sir. I have seen earrin' rc - which resembled them.” Dundee dropped them into his pocket. “Were you ever employed by the Crosbys, Wickett?” “Yes, sir. From November. 1927, to May, 1928. sir.” “That is. until Mrs. Crosby’s death?" "Yes. sir. Before that. I had been with Mr. and Mrs. Van Rensselaer Lambert for nine years. When Mr. Lambert died in September, 1927, Mrs. Lambert found herself financially unab’.e to keep up an establishment. Mr. Crosby, a very old friend of Mr. and Mrs. Lambert, was married o Miss Phyllis Benham in October. 1927. and he asked me to head their staff of servants.”

“Doris Matthews was Mrs. Crosby's maid at the time you served as butler?” "Yes. sir. Doris had been with Miss Phyllis, as we all called her, for two years before her marriage to Mr. Crosbv.' After the wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Crosby decided to spend a year in London, and took Doris and me with them.” “And Mrs. Lambert?” "Oh. no. sir. Mrs. Lambert had gone abroad almost immediately after her husband's death, before the Crosby wedding," the butler answered. u u a BUT the friendship between Mr. Crosby and Mrs. Lambert continued?” "Certainly, sir. Mrs. Lambert and Miss Pbylis were the best of friends, tea. if I may say so. sir. It was Mrs. Lambert who was largely responsible for launching Miss Phyllis Benham into New York society, and in London Mrs. Lambert did as much as she could, considering the fact that she was in mourning, to guide Mrs. Crosby’s social career there.” "Being paid for her services?” - o. 'ee suggested. "Certainly not. sir! Mrs. Lam- , bert had a small but adequate m- | come of hev own at that time. This j is the first time Mrs. Lambert has t ever worked for money.* ’

—By Williams

“Now, Wickett, will you please tell use whether you were in Doris’ confidence in regard to the secret causes behind Phyilis Crosby's death?" The butler looked absolutely dumfounded. “In her confidence, sir? I am sure she knew nothing beyond what she told at the inquest, sir!" Dundee shuffled through the pages of Doris letter to her sister, j At last he fixed his keen blue eyes j on the butler's flushed face and de- j manded: “Were you planning to advance Doris Matthews a sum of money with which to help her set up a beauty shop, Wickett?" "I? Why. no. sir! Doris knew : that all my savings go regularly to my aged parents in England, sir. They are entirely dependent upon me." So that was a blind alley, too! Dundee shrugged, then asked abruptly: “Wickett, what is your private opinion of Mr. Seymour Crosby?” “I am glad to answer that, sir! Mr. Crosby is a gentlemen in the finest sense of the word. I have never knew him to do a dishonorable or discourteous—" “Was he in love with his wife?” Dundee interrupted. “To the point of infatuation, sir! And Miss Phyllis adored him." “Wickett. do you yourself know anything at all. beyond what came out at the inquest, regarding Mrs. Crosby’s ejeath, or the causes leading up to it?” “Absolutely nothing, sir! I could only believe she had gone temporarily and suddenly insane. She was going to have a child, you know, sir.” “That’s all for the present, Wickett. . And thank you very much. Will you please tell Mr. Crosby to come to us here?" The butler bowed and was departing when Dundee stopped him. “One thing more, Wickett. Can you give me the full name and address of Doris’ sister, Kathy?” “Certainly, sir. Miss Kathryn Matthew’s, lady’s maid In the home of Sir Edward Moresby, No. Terrace, Mayfair, London.” “Sir Edward Moresby?” Dundee repeated joyfully. “You may go, Wickett . . . Well, chief, we’re in luck at last,” he cried, when the door had closed upon the butler. “Sir Edward Moresby is a personal friend of mine, was head of the records department of Scotland Yard during my six months there. “We’ll just cable him to quiz Kathy. She kows a lot from Doris, if she’ll only talk And I think she will, after Sir Edward hints to her that her sister was murdered for knowing too much!” The two detectives were framing the long cablegram when Seymour Crosby was announced by Detective Wilkins. (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

At the thought of his son Tarzan came abruptly back to the present. He shrugged his giant shoulders as he answered the ape. "No. \kut. ’t can not be!” he said. “You could not be nappy here—l may not be happy there, any more!” The animal trainer had stepped forward. The ape bared his fangs, growling. “Go with him. Akut," said Tarzan of the Apes. “I will come and see you tomorrow.” Sullenly, the beast moved t* the trainer’s side.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

$/ \ lo,bv> boy * / gkekt . y hanewt seev* j I ) 1 4 **lXO, 'IS EUERYTMOG WTH'fcAW ! KiOCA Ot YOO J • vOfcu. ? jG.V> hovsx. ’.BotßLEW |1 yoo most A faoT,\ oo— j! ow ko ,' _ !SO &OSY'. \V& BEAfiCLY Or r TArffc AOOO COUSTAWTLV ? VL B\U.W~ttO ' @i| >OR- VT'& CMtPtX "VO I'm >OOT AnJMMM"! Ely' hwse woo hh?e s ak>o boots K>VC W\TH ME,BOOTS- RE.NI.VY ! WAS VRETTf At SOT, ANY TIME I \ WAKrfiA LONESOME , I WOO 6ET WOKE- ts STAY '. 1“\ AT WUST, SAW THE WORD !j HhwV A UNTIL WE *** *^ R y. Si BY IWC. *CaU. S. PAT. OTP. J,;

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

ASou' OS TLATS *UAT j DAY* LASY VNUATS VNQoNS, )AH JOS~ SAW Alj TUat' HUNDRED W MV i DAV " MAU Ha \D'S %f DAFPY 9 PEEL OFF p Dollar bill am - p s lbLC> / Swv UK A K.-t’ —kCs j A HONDE&D Doliam p TREY SAID M4£ 7-T TOO— / Doa>J KMOvj SB. \ ]' I=3 \ B|i_l ( m j>g CISAW p mosta SEEM m'T=lAy .mp ( | UE w.os' r _\NRotfGir— * , ''n 1 DAV " /T 1 1B& v RWAT ya call S If ( sy r<rh= Hi-—,,——4 ‘ J ‘ ...

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

1 MAVWG ESTABLISHED ft TEMPORART CAMP, ( /J/} >s* M l 1 f t!a *iASH and east agmm torm to plumber- { l /CTTITa i IHT, THE WRECK FOR EVERNTRIUIj OF VALUE. it C' £. Cm j / "T, tm \ |eS3HEN MAKE THREE TOPS CMTOHWCI TOOLS, /£:■"■/h / , I |UCHARTS. BARRELS, TfteiSS, AND CANVAS, j sis SmWll _'j Twe / F 7= ' AvMJSKmrf E> l “V

SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

—S ✓ HEAVENS! YOU \ ' ANYTHING COOL'D HAPPEN ON I TOLD YOU THERE \ KAC.THE BAP STEWARD, SAYS SCAPED ME 1 .! \ THIS SHIP 1 .! LISTEN* THOSE WAS SOMETHING j THAT MRS. COLDECKCR IS THAT'S THE COLDECKERS TURNED OUT TO BE QUEER ABOUT THAT f KNOWN AS “ROMANY ROSE." MATTER? APE / CROOKS. THEY TRIMMED WALGREN MR. COLDECKER / AND SHE SAT OP IN THE YOU AFRAID / AND HIS CROWD FOR SDOOO IN A BUT.NO-AS ( BALCONY RIGHT ABOVE THE SOMEONE IS / CROOKED POKER GAME LAST ALWAYS-YOU \ POKER TABLE AND THEY’ rOLLQVAiINCi 1 NIGHT fcHP THt-N OUT 1 vn,r A AT PORT AU PRINCE VWEW DIFFERENTLY 7 FIGURE SHE SIGNALLED YOU s fW- —ly-- —] -"r WHAT CARDS

The latter told where they might be found, and then Tarzan turned toward his son. “Come,” he said sternly, and without another word the two left the theater and had driven nearly home through the half deserted London streets before either of them spoke. Then it was the boy who first broke the silence. "The ape knew you, father,” he said, “and you spoke together in the ape’s tongue. How did the ape know you and you its language?*

—By Martin

And then, briefly and for the first time, Tarzan of the Apes told his son of his early life —of his birth in the jungle, of the death of his parents, and of how Kala, the great she-ape, had suckled and raised him from infancy almost to manhood. He told him, too. of the dangers and horrors of the jungle; of the great beasts that stalked one by day and by night; of the periods of drought, the torrential gains; of cold; of lntensa heat— and nakedness.—

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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1 ’ 1 1 \ 11 s ~ ' " I POP. TELL ME THE \ NOT A CENT. COLDECKER BUT VMAT IGNITES ME ] TRUTH'.BID VOU I MAY HAVE TRIMMED VS THAT 1 STAKED THE / LOSE. ANYTHING J VtALGREN OUT OF SSOOO CROOK WHEN l CASHED J VN THAT GAME / BUT YOU DON'T CATCH HIS StOO CHECK \ ! *> ME IN ANY B'G ROT V . POKER GAME.VM “'V^?

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Then he spoke of the fear and suffering, of all the things that seem most horrible to the creature of civilization, in the hope that the knowledge of them might sweep from the lad’s mind any inherent desire for the jungle. Yet these were the very things that made the jungle memories, so precious to Tarzan. and all unknowingly, as he talked his every sentence glowed with the sparks that fired the boy'^mngry^e^re

-MARCH 27, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan