Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 280, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 April 1930 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OUT OUR WAY

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Wi*®' IteMi® I j Jj TIN COPYRIGHT BY NEA SERV/tf j

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONTE (Continued.' "And that was when?” Dundee prompted, as the young lawyer paused. “About 11:15. 1 was at the gates at 11. We walked about the grounds, keeping as far away from the house as possible, for about an hour. It must have been a few minutes past 12 when I left the estate, for I caught the interurban at the nearest station at 12:08.” “Oh!’.’ Gigi said thoughtfully, disappointedly. and was about to say more when Dundee silenced her with a stem glance. “Did you go to the summerhouse with Miss Berkeley?” he asked. “To the summerhouse? Why, no!” Maxwell answered, surprised. “Our idea was to keep as far away from the house as possible. At Clorinda’s request I left her sitting oh a stone bench near the south wall, and struck out for the gates. She said she was going to walk around the lake to get back to the house, and protested she was not a bit afraid to go alone.” * “T SEE," said Dundee thoughtfully. *■ Then, “You are positive you sawno one at all during your walk or as you w-ere leaving the grounds alone?” “No one, until I was passing through the gates.” Maxwell answered postively. “And I did not actually see anyone then. Just the Berkeley limousine. "It was turning In toward the gates as I passed through them. I was running to make the interurban. I'd heard the whistle lief ore I reached the gates, and thought I'd have time to get to the next station before the car did.” “Oh, well! What does it matter now?” Gigi challenged Dundee. “You’ve got your murderer—or at least you know who he is! You see, Johnny. Captain Strawn bullied poor Clo into admitting she’d been in the summerhouse, after he found a streak of blood on her ca| ’ and perfume on the soles of her choes. “Clo got there after poor Doris had been killed and rolled down tlie summerhouse steps into the lake. She thought Abbie had dashed out of the house, looking for her. with the perfume flask in her hand, and had broken the bottle. Captain Strawn got all liet up and tried to make Clo confess she’d killed Doris, or had seen Abbie do it.” “What rot!” Maxwell was pardonably indignant and contemptuous. “Where is Clo now?” “In Abbie’s sitting room, with Mrs. Lambert. Dash on up! Abbie s busy 118110? hysterics and hardly will notice you, even if she wanders in . . . You did get engaged good and tight this time, didn't you?” "Absolutely!” Maxwell exulted. Was that all. Mr. Dundee?” When he had gone Gigi returned to the broad arm of Dundee s chair and leaned against his shoulder, sighing happily. “All's swell that ends swell,” she rejoiced. "Though I suppose Johnson will say he did it all for his aged mother, and wring my heart! . . Say. why don’t you smile, old Wet Blanket? Does it take all the ioy out of your life for a case to be solved?” “No” Dundee answered seriously; then he forced himself to smile. “There! That's my Bonnie!*’ Gigi praised him tenderly. ’’You are the handsomest thing, with your ‘smiling Irish eyes’ and your crisp black hair. Believe I'll set the wave in it; Doris taught me how " “Let my hair alone. Hellion!” he rowed, then flushed as he looked up and saw Wickett’s solemn face .n the opening door. “Luncheon is served Miss Gigi.” "Attaboy, Wickett!” feigi cried, springing from the arm of the cha’ir ind dragging at Dundee’s hand. “I houldn’t admit, but I'm starved.” In the hall they found Mrs. Lambert descending the stairs. At sight cf the evident chumminess of the child and the detective, a faint, whimsical smile lightened the somber melancholy which had made her delicate and still beautiful face seem years older. Then she made a sudden decision: “Mr. Dundee, may I speak with you alter lunch—about Doris?"

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO /""i IGI was the only one who atVjr tacked the delicious meal with any enthusiasm. Dundee wondered, with some embarrassment, if it was his presence which prevented the relief the whole party must have been feeling from expressing itself more exuberantly. And he wondered, too, which face might betray its owner if he should say, suddenly. - “Regardless of w-hat Captain Strawn says, I don’t think Doris Matthews’ murder has been solved!” • Not that he had any Intention of throwing such a bombshell, of course. His mind was a maelstrom of questions, unexplained and apparently unrelated facts and halfformed suspicions. But as yet he had no more Idea who killed Doris Matthews—if Johnson did not do it —than had his parrot, the “Watson” he hoped was even now on its way from the Rhodes house. “No, no, Wickett! Take it aw’ay! The very sight of food makes me ill!” Mrs. Berkeley protested, as the butler bent over her with a vegetable dish. “But do eat—all of you! “My beautiful, beautiful pearls! And my pigeon-blood ruby! If I could get my hands on that vile man —And he seemed such a gentleman. too! I mean, for a valet—” "Can't we talk of something else, Abbie?” George Berkeley interrupted coldly. “Your jewels were insured. They can be replaced ” “But Doris can’t!” Mrs. Berkeley wailed, dabbing at her eyes. “Do you think you can get me another maid just as good, dear Mrs. Lambert?” “I'm afraid not,” Mrs. Lambert saic coldly. “ on’t Mother,” Dick Berkeley groa.ied, then, without excusing himself, he kicked back his chair and bolted from the dining room. “When I think the poor darling died trying to defend my jewels from that wretched —” Mrs. Berkeley went on, her voice quivering. “You w-ish you hadn’t slapped her don’t you?” Gigi cut in cruelly. “George, are you going to let that child talk to me like that?” “Sorry, Abbie!” Gigi apologized courtly, her eyes blazing. “It’s just that I can’t bear ” “That will do. Gigi.” Mr. Berkeley commanded sternly, Throughout the meal ciorinda Berkeley and Seymour Crosby spoke not at all, except for murmured acknowledgments of Wickett's services. But Clorinda’s silence was the stillness of deep happiness and peace—or so it seemed to Dundee. Her magnificent dark eyes were softly, radiant and an unsuspected gentleness and sweetness hovered over the beautiful mouth that had been so arrogant. Crosby was silent out of weariness and profound depression—a silence which not even his exquisite courtesy could goad him to break. Mrs. Lambert dutifully sympathized with Mrs. Berkeley in her broken, semi-hysterical complaints against Johnson, the fact that the big party could not take place and the unfairness of life in general. But only her lips sympathized, consoled, reasoned. Her blue-gray eyes, looking abnormally large now because of the purplish shadows, were infinitely remote, infinitely weary. But twice, when Mrs. Berkeley mentioned Doris’ name, Mrs. Lambert glanced upward at Wickett and each time their eyes held. And Dundee knew that, for the moment, butler and former mistress communed silently and sorrowfully as two friends who had loved a girl who was dead. He watched cannily for any tiny clew that might betray her murderer, if indeed he—or she —was in that room. A word, a facial expression. the hypocritical overstressing of a note of grief. But there was nothing, or if there was, he could not detect it. And he was glad when, the dessert served, but not eaten, except by greedy Gigi, Mrs. Berkeley rose. “I suppose,” she sighed, “we must all try to get back to normal. Cf course everything is at sixes and sevens, and I have so much to do I hardly know where to begin. “Gigi, will you play tennis with dear Mr. Dundee, or take him over to

—By Williams *

the Country Club for golf? . . . And Clorinda, darling, you must do your best to cheer up poor, dear Mr. Crosby. I know this has been a sad blow to him, since it means the postponement of the Announcement party 7—” “Mother, please!” Clorinda interrupted. “I have already told you that Mr. Crosby and I have released each other from the engagement.” “Nonsense! But I haven’t time to argue with you now 7,” Mrs. Berkeley retorted. “Shall w 7 e go up and plunge into our tasks now, dear Mrs. Lambert?” “Dear Mrs. Lambert” glanced uncertainly at Dundee, and the detective answered for her: “If you’ll forgive me, Mrs. Berkeley, I’m going to borrow Mrs. Lambert for a few minutes.” “Oh!” Mrs. Berkeley looked startled, then indignant. “You mean you want to question her? I thought all that miserable third-degree business was over, since the police know who killed Doris.” “Won’t you use the library 7 , Mr. Dundee?” Mr. Berkeley suggested courteously. “I’m going to have a game of golf myself—if the police will permit me to leave the grounds.” . * M T'v UNDEE flushed. He knew very well that Captain Strawn had no intention of keeping the Berkeley family or their guests under the slightest restraint, so he was lying, for purposes of his own, when he said: “I believe Captain Strawn would like for all of us to be within instant reach. This is one reason I am presuming upon your hospitality.” “I see!” George Berkeley agreed curtly. “How long do you think our liberty will be curtailed?” “Probably only a day or two,” Dundee answered uncomfortably. “Johnson may be caught any minute, you know. If he confesses or if any direct evidence of his having committed the murder is found—” “What if he proves it wasn’t him?” Gigi demanded, “Captain Strawn says Doris was murdered between 11:30 and 12 o’clock. What if Johnson could prove he left before then?” “That is why I am not permitted to play golf this afternoon, Miss Sherlock Holmes!” her father answered for Dundee, a smile twitching at his stern mouth. “Use the library anyway, Dundee.” When Mrs. Lambert, slim and immaculate in the powder-blue sweater and pleated cream-colored flannel skirt which she had been wearing all morning, took her seat in one of the big leather armchairs in the library, Gigi snatched up an ottoman, planted It at the social secretary’s feet and flopped dow r n upon it. (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

Condon searched the sleeping boy’s clothes—the money was not there. Perhaps it was beneath his pillow. The cloud that had hidden the moon rolled aside. He saw the boy was alone. At the same instant the lad opened his eyes and recognized Condon. The man made a quick dive for his victim's throat to prevent an outcry. Instead, he felt his wrists seized in a grip of steel, and he heard a lew and savage snarl behind him.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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He felt other hands at his throat reaching over his* shoulders from behind. Casting a terrified glance backward his hair stood on end at the sight his eyes revealed, for grasping him from the rear was a huge, manlike ape. its bared fangs close to his throat. The lad pinioned his wrists. Neither uttered a sound. Where was the grandmother? Condon’s eyes swept the room and then bulged with horror as he realized the awful truth.

—By Martin

'OH, I GOT ft, pep OF pTS ( DOM’T VJORR'f - VUswftp ere - Hope, rr j g>r.imo- \t out cocoes OUT P.LL RIGHT-/ - - —■ —'

/& Copyright. 1929 by Edgar Rir Borroogha, Tpc. AH righo mrrM.

In the power of what creatures of mystery had he placed himself! Frantically he fought to beat off the lad that hi might turn upon the fearsome thing at his back. Freeing one hand he struck a savage blow at the boy’s face. His act seemed to unloose a thousand devils in the hairy creature clinging to his throat. He heard a hideous growl—the last thing he ever heard in this world—as he was dragged backward upon the floor.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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Bv Edg-ar Rice Burroughs

A heavy body fell upor him. powerful teeth gripped his throat, and his head whirled in a sudden blackness . . . The ape rose from th® man's prostrate form and shook himself. Th® boy, horrified, leaped from the bed to lean over the man's body. He knew that Akut had killed in his defense, even as it had killed th# villainous Russian, but here in savage Afric#, far from home ana friends, what would they do to him and his faithful ape?

.APRIL 3, 1530

—By Ahem

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan