Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 304, Indianapolis, Marion County, 1 May 1930 — Page 16

PAGE 16

OUT OUR WAY

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JVI&HTHIA v Dy juue ann Moore the* indepen pe r^SYNDiCArEj

MARY DELLA CHUBB Eighteen and everything vou could want in one young woman. Works in the clock shop and lives with her parents in a Bank street flat. Her best friend is MIRIAM BOBBIN. Her "steady company" is JOE SPEAKS. One of her erstwhile eager flames is TIMMY FITZMOAN. ROBERT HENLEY CALK MAN 111 Yale football star and senior, and one of THE Calkmans of Detroit. He is engaged to MARJORIE MARA BEE, who lives on Cracker hill. His closest friend la GEORGE MACKRAY. also of Yale Mary Della goes to meet Joe Speaks in front of the postoflice. Joe fails to show up. She starts to cross the street and is all but run down by a long yellow roadster driven bv Robert Calkman. who tries to take her to St. Marvos hospital. But Marv Della directs him past the hospital and out East Main street. They park on the piece of old highway about half way to Cheshire. Robert asks if he may kiss her, and impulsively Mary Della turns out the car lights and throws her arms about his neck. A woman screams in the dark road ahead. Robert goes to : nvestigate. Minutes later Marv Della turns on tne lights and sees Roberts and a woman apparently dead. lying in the road and between them, standing, a man in a red mask. She hides in the woods until the RED MASK leaves, then goes to Robert who is onlv stunned. The woman is dead. Murdered. Robert does not tell Mary Della who he Is. but tells her to call him Bob. The next night. Marv Della goes to the dance at Hamilton park, and meets Joe Bpeaks, who persuades her to forgive and forget. Thev go for a ride on the Cheshire road. He proposes, but Mary Della savs she must have time to think it over. As they pass the piece of old highway where the woman was murdered the night before. Robert’s car comes out of the road and moves oft toward Waterburv. CHAPTER NINE (Continued) “Just a minute, George. That’s the second time you’ve alluded to Mary Della unpleasantly. I can’t blame you because I’ve told you nothing good about her. But let's get this straight: She’s about the finest and most adorable little bit of loveliness who ever walked on two feet, and there aren’t any questions.” • Well—l’ll—be—damned.” George slid from the bed and stood facing his friend. "Boy, you’re getting entirely too involved to suit me. I can’t follow. One minute you’re chirping because Marjorie accepted you. The next you’re spilling bubbles about a girl you tried to run over ten minutes after you left Marjorie’s. What’s wrong, son: are you going daffy?” Robert couldn't resist a broad smile. It really was all mixed up, at that. But there was a distinction somewhere, somehow, between Marjorie and Mary Della. If he could just decide what it was. a a a “T COUDN'T expect you to understand, George.” he said a little vaguely, “but one doesn't necessarily look for beauty and personal charm in a woman one hopes to marry.” “Oh, doesn't one?” George exaggerated his genuine amazement at this new concept of the ideal wife. “I suppose I’m a good deal of a novice at these things, Bob, but somehow I'd always thought that one sought all the virtues in the woman one hoped to marry. It couldn’t be now that you’re trying to persuade yourself that black is white, could it?” “Have I said that Marjorie wasn't pretty or didn't have charm?” Robert demanded in dismay. “Well, now that I think back,” George agreed, “I don't believe you have . . . said it. But let’s drop it. Are you likely to be pulled into this murder case?” Robert considered. “I don't believe so. George. But you never know what these modern detectives will dig up. I've checked up on everything I had on my person and I don’t find anything missing. But girls are more likely to leave a clew with all the junk they carry around in those bottomless carry-alls they call vanities. I didn’t think to ask Mary Della to take inventory'. “And here’s a strange thing, George,” Robert continued. “Mary Della tells me that road is popular with parkers, and I was certain the body would be discovered before morning. But neither the morning nor afternoon paper has had a word about it. and my conscience is beginning to hurt.” “I’d think your head would be enough; why your conscience?’’ “Good Lord. man. there’s a responsibility there. I’m letting a blood-thirsty criminal get away with one of the most cold-blooded murders I ever heard of. And just to save my face. Mary Della recognized his red mask; what wouldn’t the police give to know that, when they got on the case? Every minute that that woman lies there is giving the criminal a better opportunity to cover up his tracks. Don’t you see?” “Afraid I don’t, old man.” George admitted; "but it isn’t necessary. The burning question of the moment is. what are you going to do about it?” "That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Robert informed him.

■ “Al/HICH means,” said George, VV “that innocent little George \ MacKray is about to be drawn into ; the mystery. Go ahead, break my heart.” Robert lit a cigaret and contemplated an etching on the opposite wall. “I’ve got a lot of nerve to ask you to do this, George,” he said after a time; “but you’re the only person I can depend on. It involves some risk and more courage ... By the way, where were you between 7:30 and 10 o’clock last night?” "Sounds like a cross-examination,” George laughed. “Well, your honor. I was in the frat house with about fifteen of my indolent companions studying for that nasty exam we just flunked.” “You see,” Robert explained, “you’ve got an alibi; I haven’t. If they catch me on that road again, they’ll probably hang me on circumstantial evidence.” “So I’m to go back in your place and discover the body, is that it? Just a casual little favor you’re asking, seems to me.” “Oh, I know it, George. It’s putting a pretty heavy strain on friendship, but I’ve got to get that woman off my mind, and I can’t until the police get busy. They may have found the corpse by now, you know, in which case all you’d have to do would be to ride on in to Waterbury and get a paper so I can learn how much they know.” “And if they haven’t found it?” “You could say you got off the road, George, and almost ran over it. It wouldn’t be hard to make a mistake there; it’s a piece of the old highway and in pretty decent shape. Besides, they couldn’t very well suspect you. Any doctor could determine that the woman had been dead for twenty-four hours, and you’ve got alibis for every one of the twenty-four.” “And what would I be going to Waterbury for, pray?” a a st ROBERT smiled. ‘Tve provided for all those little details, George. You and I are going out and purchase what is known as an engagement ring, and you’re going to be commissioned to take my car and deliver the said ring to Marjorie. see how r simple it all is?” “Oh, my yes. Yes, yes, yes! And I start, I suppose the minute we get the ring?” “Why . . .” Robert hesitated. “No, I think not, George. The longer we wait the more chance there’ll be that they’ve found the body. And the later it is, the less risk you take of being seen when you leave the main road. “If they’ve discovered the corpse, you understand, it’s just as well that my car isn’t recognized around there. You see, I’m trying to make it as easy as I can for you.” “Aren't you, though! And so I leave here at . . “Oh, I should say about 10 o'clock. Is it a go, George?” George grew serious. “Os course it is. Bob. I may be yellow and all that, but I'll be no piker in your eyes. Come on, let's go get that what-you-mav-call it for Marjorie before the stores close.” "Wait a minute. I want you to leave a note at another address in Waterbury while you’re there.” “Lordy!” George cried. “You’ve sure got plenty of irons in the fire.” CHAPTER TEN “'IV/'HAT had Bob been doing VV back on that road?” Mary Della lay in bed gazing at a crack in the plaster overhead. . . . I hasten to add that Mr. and Mrs. Chubb had been up for hours and already had come back from church. Mrs. Chubb had insisted to her husband that the child was not well and should be allowed to sleep as long as she would. Mr. Chubb readily had agreed. Neither, of course, had any reason to believe that Mary Della barely had time to get her shoes off and crawl into bed with her remaining clothes on before they returned from their night out. And now a fresh fear assailed Mary Della. Joe Speaks had seen the car. had stared at it as it shot past them there on the Cheshire road. What would he do when he heard there’d been a murder on that stretch of highway? Give the of the strange car to the police? “Golly!” said Mary Della to herself, "looks like we’re going to be dragged into this racket in spite of everything. But I ask you, Mary Della, what was he doing out there last night? And why’d he come on in to Waterbury instead of going

—By Williams

I back to New Haven? There’s a couple of hard nuts you won’t crack in a hurry. The mystery gets deeper every minute." “Hello!” "Wake, Honey?” “Yes, Mom, come on in.” Mrs. Chubb pushed the door open. ‘Bless your heart, you look a lot better, how you feeling?” “Gee, I could lick Gene Tunney this morning. What’s that in your hand?” “It’s a letter,” she said, and squeezed through the narrow doorw’ay. “Your Pop picked it up on the landing when we went out to go to church. Bette • get up now, honey, and get something to eat.” She went out and closed the door behind her. Who was it from? Joe? She’d never known Joe to write a line. Timmy? Timmy used to write plenty, but she’d forgotten his handwriting. A little excited, she slipped a finger under the flap and tore the envelope open. It was in a large, legible scrawl. She read: “Darling—This isn’t quite fair, but I had to let you know I’m in touch with you and will be on hand when and if you need me. You did kiss me, didn't you, sweetheart? It is all very confusing now, but I can't forget that. I may never see you again, but I’ll love you . . . always. Isn’t life an awful muddle, Bob?” She read it again and again and kissed the signature repeatedly. a a a *TT’S from him!” she sang in silence. “It’s from Bob, Bob, Bob!” And with one final kiss, she threw the covers back, leaped from bed, and dropped the flesh rayon nightgown about her feet. First this, then that, and next a little green print silk dress that needed an extra vigorous pull to get it down over her hips. And she was dressed. He had come all the way from New Haven to bring her that. But there was the old question again. Why had he entered that other road? Morbid curiosity? Not Bob. To look for something he had dropped out there? But when they had first seen the lights of his car, it had not yet reached the spot where—where that poor woman was still lying, and he had not stopped. Something strange somewhere, Bob, old boy. There was the woman once more. Why had no one discovered the body before now? Here is was Sunday morning and she had been there since Friday night. Were all parkers in the same predicament she and Bob had been in, afraid to notify the police for fear of revealing their own clandestine affairs? She patted on a thin coat of flesh powder and went into the living room. Mrs. Chubb was stirring around the kitchen in a black wool dress and a white apron starched so stiff that it stood out like a full sail. “One or two eggs, honey?” “No, thanks, mom,” said Mary Della, “It's too close to dinner time. A cup of tea and a piece of toast 'll be plenty, I’ll fix it.” (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

. -y-

Like most youths of his age, Korak held girls in a species of contempt; But couid he leave this one here perhaps to be murdered by the villainous old sheik? Yet how could he take her into the jungle with him? She would probably scream at her own shadow., Several minutes he stood lost in thought. Wistfully the girl watched her new friend, then laid her slim, brown hand on his arm. Korak looked down and J*aw the tears upon her lashes.

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES j

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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SALESMAN SAM

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Copyiitht IWO. by XV. Bafrotha. he. M Hjhtt r—ir.lt

“Come,” he said. “The jungle is kinder than man. You shall live in the jungle. Korak and Akut will protect you.” She did not understand his words, but as he led her from the prostrate sheik, trustfully her little arm crept about his waist. Beneath the great tree he lifted her, threw her lightly across his shoulders and leaped nimbly into its branches. Her arms clung about bis neck and Geeka, the doll, dangled down his Straight, young back. v

—By. Martin

Gee, This is a GReprr book allWgT, Red 1 n I'fA ReADiM’,SAfA-ITS ABOUT \ BENEDICT ARNOLD WAS BENEDICT ARNOLD/TH' TAWIToR-) A TRfMToR , NOT A _ oy -TT: OOiILCfA'S L&Z\ D wF* LOME LIBRARY 2 'Oil ''TfH—

And so Meriem entered the jungle with Korak, trusting this stranger who had befriended her, but knowing nothing of the future. The two had gone but a short distance when she spied the great ape and pointed toward him with a half-stifled scream. “Ah,” thought Akut, "the Killer has taken a mate.” The youth deposited his burden upen a large limb, where she clung desperately. “She will go with üb,” he said. “Do not harm her. We will protect her.”

PUR BOARDING HOUSE „

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Akut did not want to be burdened by the ! young of man, and this one looked hopelessly 1 unfit. She couldn’t even sit in a tree! But if 1 the Killer wanted her—all right. Akut certainly j didn t want her. Her skin was too smooth and ! hairless, her face was most unattractive. Not 1 at all like a certain lovely she had seen at the Dum-Dum dance. Thare was beauty for one! A I generous mouth, such lovely yellow fangs, ami the cutest softest side whiskers! Akut sighed!

MAY 1, 1930

—By Ahem

T —By Blosserj

HP —By; CranO

■* —By Small

—By Cowan