Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 282, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 April 1930 — Page 11

Y An NE, AJJJ7JTJJSJ COPYRIGHT BY NEA SW/C f

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR (Continued.) DUNDEE was silent for a while his eyes narrowed in thought Then: “Did you see Doris after the inquest, Mrs. Lambert?'* "No. not until she came to see me upon my return to New York,” she answered. "Her mistress’ death was a terrible blow to Doris, and after the strain of the inquest she collapsed. “The papers said she went to the home of an aunt in a London suburb. I made a note of the aunt’s name and address and sent flowers and delicaeies to her there, but did rot go to see her. since I myself was suffering from the strain and from grief. “I went to a little village in the south of France and remained there, in seclusion, until I sailed for America early in August.” “Did you see Mr. Crosby during that time?” “No. but I had several letters from him. He was traveling over the continent, making a brave effort to conquer his despair. “For several months I feared he would—follow Phyllis, and in my own letters to him I said everything I could to make him happier.” “And yet, just sixteen months after his wife’s death, Seymour becomes engaged to be married to another girl,” Dundee reminded her. "No fair!” Gigi protested, making a face at the detective and burrowing deeper into Mrs. Lambert's embrace. “I've always heard that widowers who were crazy about their wives get married again quick.” Mrs. Lambert smiled, dropped a grateful kiss upon the tumbled brown Claris, then explained to Dun-tfr-e. "It was I Introduced him to Clorinda. and I who encouraged him to try to find solace in anew life with a girl whom I esteem highly. When I wrote Seymour that I was returning to America, he replied that he too was homesick, and would join me on the Mauretania, “On shipboard I became acquainted with Mrs. Berkeley and her daughter, and introduced them to Mr. Crosley. Seymour and Clorinda were obviously congenial from the first, though I should not say that either was tempestuously in love, j Mrs. Berkeley encouraged the at- 1 traction ” “I bet she did!” Gigi giggled. Again Mrs. Lambert smiled, an expression which made her look almost like a girl again, and very beautiful. "When it became fairly obvious that an engagement would result, Mrs. Berkeley begged me to accept the post of social secretary. “I never had worked for money In my fife, and the prospect, dismayed me, but ” she hesitated, then flung her silver-crowned head defiantly. “The small remnant of my dead husband's estate was almost exhausted, and it was necessary for me to earn money in some way.” “Why didn't you get married again yourself. Tish?” Gigi began eagerly. "You're so beautiful and such a lamb I should think every plutocrat that looked at you—” Mrs. Lambert's delicate cheeks flamed, and she stopped the rush of words by laying a hand over the child's mouth. “I accepted the posion and Mrs. Berkeley asked me to begin my duties by engaging a butier and a thoroughly competent lady's maid for herself and Clorinda. “I had had a letter from Wickett while I was still in France, telling me that he was returning to America, and saying that he wanted to serve me if I should again set up an establishment. "On my arrival in New York I located Wickett through an employment bureau and offered him this post, which he accepted. A day or so later he sent Doris to me. She was employed on a Long Island estate, but wished to be with Wickett again.” a a a "CHE simply adored you!" Gigi *3 cut in, “And I—loved Doris,” Mrs. Lambert said quietly, for the second time during the interview. “I think that is all I can tell you, Dr. Dundee. As you probably know, Clorinda and Mr. Crosby became engaged on the last day of the voyage." Dundee was silent again for a long minute. Then he asked, abruptly: “Mrs. Lambert, was it from you that Doris expected to borrow sufficient money to set up a beauty shop of her own?” "From me?” Mrs. Lambert was obviously surprised. ‘That is absurd. Doris knew quite well that I have nothing now except my salary as Mrs. Berkeley’s secretary.” “Do you know whom she had in mind as her benefactor?" Dundee pressed. “Why. no! I haven't the least idea.” "Mrs. Lambert, did Doris tell you fast night that Mrs. Berkeley had slapped her face?” The effect of the question was startling. The woman's tired eyes blazed with miger, and her lips were shaking as she repeated: i “Slapped Doris? . . . Oh!” Then, regaining a measure of control she answered: "No Doris did not tell me that.” •‘Don’t mind so, Tish!” Gigi pleaded, stroking her friend's flushed cheek with tender brown fingers. “Abbie has a rotten temper. you know. She flies off the handle and goes banging around, but she really doesn't mean any harm. “I got biffed myself last night, remember, and I'm not harboring any bad feelings now against my peppery parent." "I remember." Mrs. Lambert agreed quietly, but her arms tightened about the small body. “Forgive what must seem like unwarranted prying, Mrs. Lambert.” Dundee went on. "but last night 1 happened to overhear Mrs. Berkeley say to you, 'All right, I promise. Will you tell me please, what promise you extracted from Mrs. Berkeley?” “Really, Mr. Dundee, I must refuse to answer that question,” Mrs Lambert retorted icily. “It was a purely personal matter, having nothing at all to do with—with the tragedy you are investigating."

DUNDEE Shrugged slightly, then smiled at her disarmingly as he took a rather crumpled package of clgarets and a patent lighter from his pocket. He was snapping unsuccessfully at the flint when Gigi scrambled out of Mrs. Lambert's lap and snatched the lighter from his hands. “Bet it needs filling,” she told I him. ‘Let me do it! See this funny little fountain?” and she ran around the big desk to where an ornamental little keg with gleaming brass bands held a prominent position among writing accessories. “It's a filling station for starving | lighters, but we feed ’em wood alcohol instead of gas. Watch!” and she jerked the lighter apart, then held | the tiny reservoir directly under the miniature spigot whose tap she '■ turned. “Now see if it will light.” Dundee accepted the refilled i lighter with thanks, then remarked admiringly: “That's neat! I never saw one oefore.” “Say that to Dad and he'll make 1 you a present of one,” Gigi assured ! him. “He patented the thing himj self and one of his factories turns I t hem out by the thousands, i “He's sinfully proud of it, too. | Designs anew type of ‘body’ every j week or so. The house is full of | them Abbie has a gorgeous one for i her sitting room—a modernistic urn. : the dearlingest thing. “But poor Dad has a besetting ! worry about them. He's afraid some ; thirsty and incautious member of ! his precious family will take a swig 1 of the wood alcohol and fill an unI timely grave. Therefore he delivers periodic lectures on the horrible efj sects ” The ringing of the house telephone interrupted her torrent of i words. Snatching up the receiver i she cooed “Hullo!” and winked at Dundee. “Abbie—on the rampage!” I she whispered after a moment. Aloud: “Yes, darling! She's still ! being quizzed.’ . ... Oh, me? Why, j Abbie! How can you? I’m being my most charming self—you dear, little wide-eyed daughter. ... Os course I’m not giving away family secrets! ... All right, darling. Keep your shirt on. I think they’re almost through.” “She wants you to hurry, because j she needs Tish,” she explained un- ! necessarily. j “I’ll hurry,” Dundee grinned at j her. “Now, Mrs. Lambert, will you | please tell me when you last saw Doris Matthews?” “At exactly what time, you mean?” Mrs. Lambert asked. “Let me think. ... It was about 11 when I came upstairs. I went to my room first and was reading a long letter from one of my New York friends which I had been too busy to open when it came on the late afternoon post, when I suddenly remembered that I had neglected to enter an important engagement for this morning on Mrs. Berkeley’s desk calendar. “As I was opening my door to go to Mrs. Berkeley’s sitting room I saw Doris hurrying past on her way to the backstairs. She looked as if she had been crying.” “Did you stop her —speak to her?’’ Dundee asked. “Yes, I called to her. She stopped In my door and I asked her what was wrong. She said, ‘Nothing. It's just that I’ve been talking with Mr. Crosby and—and remembering.’ “I saw that she was emotionally upset and did not detain her. She s ran on up the backstairs to the j servants’ quarters and I went to Mrs. Berkeley’s sitting room.” “You did!” Dundee exclaimed, 1 startled. “We had no idea How long were you there, Airs. Lambert?” CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE “T ESS than five minutes. I -L should say.” Mrs. Lambert answered. “I made a note of the engagement on Mrs. Berkeley’s calendar, glanced ' over two or three belated acceptances for the dance which was to follow the dinner tonight and added the names to the iist. of guests.” “Did you go into Mrs. Berkeley's bathroom or bedroom for any reason whatever?” Dundee asked, only the glint of his blue eyes betraying his excitement. “No. I was in the sitting room only.” “Did you hear anything at all while you were at work there?” "Nothing whatever?” Mrs. Lambert answered positively. “Was the door open into the foyer between the rooms?” Mrs. Lambert knit her brows, then shook her head. “I'm sorry, but I can't remember, I was in rather a hurry, partly because I wanted to be finished with the work before Mrs. Berkeley came upstairs and partly because I was very tired.” “You wanted to avoid Mrs. Berke- | ley?” Dundee suggested. “ ‘Avoid’ is scarcely the word,” Mrs. Lambert answered coldly. “I suspected that the interview in the library between Mr. and Mrs. Berke--1 ley concerned Clorinda's engage- ! ment to Mr. Crosby and was too tired to hear a possibly hysterical ! account of it. I knew 7 , too, that j Mrs. Berkeley needed sleep more j than she needed a confidante.” “Mrs. Lambert, have you been ! happy here at Hillcrest?” Dundee ‘ asked gently. It was Gigi. climbing back into j the social secretary's lap. who anj swered for her: “Don't be an I idiot,' Bonnie Dundee! Do you | think a 'great lady’ like my darling | Tish would be happy working for another woman, when she'd never ! had to take orders before in her > life?” "I have been happy —on the whole," Mrs. Lambert answered for herself, her arms closing almost convulsively about the small body ! curling itself contentedly in her j lap. "You did not see Doris again? She did not come to Mrs. Berke--1 ley's rooms while you were there?” Dundee went on. . jt st a “XTO. I saw no one as I left Mrs. J. v| Berkeley's rooms and rej turned to my own, but I did catch a glimpse of a eilk batik scarf fluttering over the balustrade of the I stairs when I opened Mrs. Berkeley's sitting room door,” Mrs. Lam- , bert answered reluctantly. "I recognized the scarf as Clorinda’s and

told myself that she was going out for a walk. “Since Clorinda has told me that you know all about it, I can’t believe I have harmed her at all by mentioning the fact.” “Not in the least,” Dundee agreed. “But, please, Mrs. Lambert, don't let any such considerations keep you from telling anything and everything that may help us to learn the whole truth about Doris’ murder. Did you see any one else at all, either as you returned to your room, or afterwards?” “No one!” Mrs. Lambert answered firmly. “I finished reading the letter from my friend and went to bed, within ten minutes.” “You heard no one running dow T n the hall?” Dundee persisted, j “Nothing of the sort. But the : hall is very thickly carpeted.” “The servants’ stairs are at the I end of the hall, just beyond your room, are they not?” Dundee asked. “Yes. The flight leading up to ' the third floor is very near my room, but the flight leading dow ; n to the back hall is nearer to the ; now untenanted guest room oppoi site my room. Those stairs are not carpeted, but the servants are all required to wear rubber heels while on duty.” | “Then you did not hear Doris descending from the third floor a few minutes after you returned to your room?” “No. But I was in my bathroom, taking a bath, within two or three minutes after my return. That is, I began to run the water immediately, and when the tub was full, finished reading my letter as I lay in the warm w 7 ater. “Even if I had been in my bedroom, I doubt if I should have heard Doris, since the walls and doors are very 7 thick—practically sound proof.” “I see,” Dundee agreed, more disappointed than he wished her to know. “Have you anything else to add. Mrs. Lambert?” “Nothing to add.” she replied quietly. “But I want to emphasize what I said before: No solution of the tragedy w r hich in any way reflects on Doris’ character or loyalty will be the true solution.” “I am sure of that, Mrs. Lambert,” Dundee answered sincerely. “You may go, and—thank you very much. You have been more courteous and patient, I am sure, than you think I deserve. But I want you to know that I have not been asking irrelevant questions out of vicious or idle curiosity.” Mrs. Lambert smiled at him suddenly out of a mist of tears and held out her hand. “One other thing,” he detained her. “May I borrow your typeWTiter to transcribe my notes?” She flushed slightly. “I am afraid I shall need it. but Air. Berkeley has a machine in his room which he seldom uses. I am sure he will be glad to lend it to you for as long as you need it.” “I'll show you where it is!” Gigi cried. a a a THE three of them ascended the stairs together, Gigi in the middle, impartially swinging a hand of each. “I thought you never were coming, Mrs. Lambert!” Mrs. Berkeley called reproachfully from her sitting room door. “My telephone has been ringing constantly. “Somehow 7 those dreadful reporters have got hold of my private, unlisted number and they’ve been driving me crazy. Just to get rid of them I've promised them all an inj terview at 4 o’clock and we must hurry to get up a written statement for them, listing my stolen jewels, and ” Mrs. Lambert, murmuring apologies, joined her employer and the sitting room door closed upon them. Gigi ran up the hall to her father’s door and knocked blithely. ■ “Isn’t in!” she announced to Dundee. “But come along! It’ll be all j right.” The detective obeyed, stepping into a spacious, but rather severely I furnished room. Two broad win- ; dows gave a view 7 of the landscaped | front lawn and a third looked out upon the rolling, grass-carpeted slopes to the west of the house. “Dad's a pretty good stenographer himself,’’ Gigi bragged, beckoning Dundee to a large old-fashioned secretary, upon the open leaf of which rested a portable typewriter. Rolled into the carriage of the machine were two pieces of blank white paper, with a sheet of purple carbon between. “Here’s a bunch of typewriter paper,” Gigi offered, jerking open a drawer and appropriating at least fifty sheets of the good plain bond. “Need anything else? Carbon paper?” "This sheet in the machine will be enough.” Dundee assured her. “What’s this? Another of your father's patent lighter-filling machines?”

(To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

I .....hi, m. tK.I. W. AP rKarm. ‘

A single tree grew a few feet from the window. Nimbly, the lad sprang for It—clinging catlike for an instant to a branch before he jumped quietly to the ground. Cloae behind him came the great ape Two hundred yards away a spur of the jungle ran close to the straggling town. Toward this he led the way. None saw them. A moment later the jungle swallowed them and the future Lord Greystoke passed from the eyes and the knowledge of men.

OUT OUR WAY

if iRELUS An*' TH iTUeM, OuT SIDE >J o-laTTerim’ ( Cr&T These jTTt/x “SPEtOA ” Asi' TH' GtARDEM \ QAIStTE/B ©latum* ©RigkiW \ pickedy^v.Olti fH' ROSEBUSH AKi'Tt-V \ T0 0 %^ 7 AKi'-tW BLACK' &BO SCREAMS/ Buv_l_ .MTWT, TUE- GiAROENJ , oin.rK.unnK

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

I cows Oh), csca2= dont ) ausee vMyiy f hello soys- ) ea ' £a ' '** wv P)] \hell,t parent seen 1 M sav' ues just uke au. I j SET COLO FEEL-LETS SO p ’ qm WE- \F HATS TUE / FARBaC.-WE AMUjOnaiOE > | AQOOND WERE So MQjy LONG, TUE OTUER PEOPLE MERE l \ Dam TO TUIS WVSTERV ',t)U "JLtNk. IT AGSoiwEMT / ARGUMENT AT au_ ■ j SO 1 REALLY CANT SAY, . H YOU A.si' ARE TUE ffLu. RISUT- fl ~ ‘AAMOR AM' 60 INSIDE AM’ !S|4'T MYSTERIOUS ABOUT? I WAS JUST TRVIhV TO !/_. BUT I\E MEARD Some vJEtty y'fS'P j/\ ' OMLV OMES vMVO OotfT J\ goT MOT “ lOOH AQOonjQ= ELEPV&OO7 vu CETo s CAC Jb 60 | QUEER STORIES, SO IF I vMERE BEUEVE IM. WVSTtRV, I 0 b T 2? ? V 1 s^s fcl ™ *■ J . — * ■ 1 ~ i *' l ~ j *

WASHINGTON TUBBS II

/ WELL, SHE’S NOTHING\ C GEE! WOTTA TMJMMV ~ WHO? IP RATS*. I KNOW TOO 1 . ( / WELL, 60 TtJ ft. W<W£ VOUR FLIU&. BUT 1 /IN WV VOUNG UFE. ) TOO WERE To LET ’ER. i BiAZtS* f UECK.NOI I WAS Wk. 'iOU’RE iN LOVE AGAIN.) / JUST REMEMBER Tut SCRAPE NOU GOT \ I'M GOING TO BUILP / GET AWAT, TrtOSE UPS,I ARE VOU f oNLV WONDERIN’ INTO OVER. THE COUNTESS. AKTO OVER I a MUD OVEN LIKE / THOSE EVESWHY, ) GETTING WOT SHE'S DOIN' I YggX > L\ A \ JADA, AH D THAT CIRCUS GIRL, BAN'. J USE. A SHE'S Th' VRETTIEST /STUCK ON | AU3NE ON A \ |// \WtMMIN ARE NOTHING BUT PESTS WW W&T It? , GIRL I EVER SAW, / THAT DAME? 1 DESERTED ISLAND; \ I S 7 TROUBLE-MAKERS.

SALESMAN SAM

'Tuo&in' ero*a tm’ sae op that \ ft vjammpk sec. es MecK'n£ iH want \t for 7 (no- its pok hus&ano ano, pie vou look r tT, ' VJOtARN, THIS (AIN'T CiOMNfV e>E (X ) Tad *' WHICH 'TELLOW PRE.DONMNPTCfe.sJI ft PRIKI EtGHTeR, ftNP 1 KNOW He's NO PMLE THE. OReeN, BLUE,BROWN — '~7/ m —— \\ umdrcllas —' i ” s —. N(Are.,Too BRICK r~T— ; 7 ijll HeTZTZn \\ NBePA.c. // /// VIGLL,HERES one V -T----(CE CREAM )■— / I I'i i/aarLN>\. '' FOR WITH- I ! ( tN WHICH TfeS. P . . OenVEßeo \ ~ Lp* Penny R I RAiN 1/ . \ VeLLOW ' // f r\ A

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

6EE -V VOONOER W MISTER. X C f VOU . A MIVUOfJ o\o SE TW' LICENSE NUMBER. LOOK Mj.- GEE . THAT SOUNDS LYKE ....OHH , ANV O\FFERF.NCt 7\ v ON MY CAR. AN'HAGEOONO W LNKE MOST UE TOONO OUT „ BECAUSE CANT YOU ), / Ml WHEN HER NEVN OOT WHO AM ??? \ WON'T Us HE A . StE "V LOW LET ON THAT 1 KNOW HE DOES MILLION if 9™ M ° ~ WJHICH EOOTS MOW HAVE.

Beneath a palm tree in a little desert oasis, Captain Armand Jacot of the Foreign Legion reclined at his ease, well content w 7 ith this day s work. Near him his sun-tanned men prepared to eat after a twelve-hour ride. But that trip over the burning sands had not been in vain, for among the soldiers, silent and taciturn, squatted white-robed Arabs, securely bound and under heavy guard. No wonder the broadshouldered captain felt well satisfied.

—By Williams

For a long hot month he and his little troop had scoured the desert for this sin-stained band of marauders charged with the theft of camels, horses and goats, and enough murders to have sent the whole unsavory gang to the guillotine several times over. At last he had come upon them. During a short fight he had lost two of his men and six of the Arabs had perished. But five were his prisoners now, ar.d, best of all, their ringleader, Achmet ben Houdin.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

| r SoRtW , miS-t'aM *||p -k.BITT' DEV AkW BAT= Soap Yousef—"TH’ GBOCERV BOV Ai BROLiG -TH’ ORP&R Birr AM CA(J <3O Povdd B im -rvr Ki-rcHELi am’ ge-t a < CAM OF StMK AU’ KeTTLE

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

From the prisoner’s the captain's mind wandered to the little garrison, where, in one more day, he should find awaiting him, with eager welcome, his wife and little daughter. His eyea softened to the memory of them. Even now ha could see the beauty of the mother „ the childish lines of little Jeanne's face. H* fancied already he could feel the soi. her rosy cheek as he held her in a loving embrace—tomorrow!

PAGE 11

—By Ahem

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Martin