Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 308, Indianapolis, Marion County, 6 May 1930 — Page 6

PAGE 6

OUT OUR WAY

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By uui-TE Ann Moore ~ THE*

SYNOPSIS MARY DELI,A CHUBB—The best looking docker in tie clock shop, if not in Waterbury. Lives with her parents In a Bank street flat. MIRIAM ROBBIN Limited in S. A., but Mary Della's best girl friend; also a docker JOE SPEAKS—Mary Della's steady, young man about town, good looking and hard-boiled. ROBERT HENLEY CALKMAN 111 Yaie senior and football star, one of the Calkmans of Detroit. GEORGE McKRAY- He wanted to go to Harvard but the cards were against j him; also a senior at Yale. Happy-go- i lucky is George MARJORIE MARABEE—Daughter of fashion, living on Cracker hill. Fiancee of Robert. TIMMY FITZMOAN-Petting is his | specialty. In love with Mary Della. OLGA BVENSON- - Also a docker and not too popular with any one. Mary Della and Robert are parked on j the piece of old highway off the Cheshire I road when a woman is murdered bv the Red Mask, notorious slugger, in the dark j road Just ahead of their car. Marv Della and Robert are afraid they wii! j he implicated in the murder and sav nothing about it. But both worry about I the woman's body Iving on the road ! about three days undiscovered. Marv ; Della writes an anonymous note to the police. Robert sends George in Robert's I car to see U the body is still there. CHAPTER THIRTEEN (Continued) , “We talked a lot and first thing , I knew we were near that road and a car was coming out . . “A mere murder won’t keep ’em ; from parking there,” Miriam de- ) flared; “’specially when they don't know anything about it.” “But it wasn’t packers. Miriam. It was Bob, hv himself, and headed toward Waterbury . . Miriam was serious at last. She stared, in silence. “He turned out on the highwayjust as we got to where that other road brandies off. and Joe got a good look at his car.” “How in the world did you recognize him and you staring into his lights?” Miriam demanded, finding her voice at last. “I didn't actually see his face,” Mary Delia admitted. “But there was a man in it in a raccoon coat, and it was Bob's car. I couldn’t be wrong about that." “And you think ” “I’m afraid to think, Miriam." At the corner of East Main and Cherry streets, they halted. “Want to come up for a little while, honey?” “Not tonight. Miriam. Pop's not feeling good and Mom may need me. Good night.” “Good night, Mary Della . . . Listen, child, you’re making yourself l sick about this thing. First thing you know they'll pin that note on you, you'll look so guilty. Forget about it. . . . Good night, darling." j boa MR. CHUBB had asserted his rights and quit the bed for j his favorite chair in the living room What was he doing? Well, we won't go into that. Suffice it to say that he had a certain section of the newspaper which did not include the first page. Not so Mrs. Chubb. She was busy cooking supper, but she had the front page of the paper laid out on a convenient chair where she might stop now and then in her journeys across the kitchen floor to snatch another morsel of the startling news story. She had tried in vain to arouse Mr. Chubb, but finally tired of his indifferent grunts and retired with her treasure. Mary Della came in and threw her hat and jacket on a chair. “Feeling better, pop?” she inquired and ran her fingers through his fast thinning hair. “I told you there wasn’t anything the matter with me. Better not go' in the kitchen. Your mother’s wait- j ing to swamp you with all that mess I about the Red Mask.” “I know. Wasn't it terrible?” “Don't ask me. I don't read the stuff.” The kitchen door opened and Mrs. Chubb came through under full steam. “Didn't I tell you. Mary Della. You see what that Red Mask fellow's done now? That's the worst . . .” “I know all about tit, mom. Supper ready?” Mrs. Chubb stared at her daughter in amazement. “Well, what’s got into j’ou? Your pop won’t talk to me and now you . . .” Her round face clouded up suddenly and a cloudburst was imminent. Mary Della hurriedly crossed the room and put her arms as nearly around her mother as it was possible to get human arms around Mrs. Chubb. "I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But it’s all so horrible and— l don't feel any too good, mom.” Mrs. Chubb was instantly herself again.

“What’s wrong? You’s not trying to be sick, too, are you?” “Os course not, but I’m tired and ” “Well, you sure look tired. I think maybe you better stay in bed tomorrow, Mary Della.” “What'd I tell you?” demanded Mr. Chubb, dropping his paper. “Just grunt once and she’s got you sick.” “Well there's no use you trying to make out you’re not sick, pop,” Mrs. Chubb declared. “You know your■sclf you groaned all night and you wouldn't hardly sit up in bed when you tried to get out this morning.” “But you acted like it was a lot wor. e'n it was,” Mr. Chubb replied, recognizing that defeat was inevitable. Mary Della looked at her father’s drawn face and another fear was" added to her already overburdened little hearty “Where you really sick, pop?” she j asked, affecting a casual tone. “Say!” Mr. Chubb fairly bellowed.; 'lf you two keep on, you’ll have! me in the hospital. Talk about something else.” But long after the others had gone to bed Mary Della set alone in the liv.ng room thinking how complicated life had become almost overnight. It was bad enough to have this other thing hanging over her without—She cried a little and went to her room, thinking of her father when she could first remember him, a big, robust, jolly man who held her at arm's length | and made faces at her. Years and years ago. 808 WHEN a Yale man purchases a pipe he goes into executive | conference with his intimates and makes his selection only after he has satisfied himself and those in whom he has confided his inten- j tions that the article is as near the thing a Yale man should smoke as j it is possible to secure. But why all this palaver about , pipes? It so happens that George * MacKray just had invested $25 or ! S3O in anew pipe, after praying over the choice with the assistance of Robert Henley Calkman 111. “George,” said Robert, as they came out of the smoke shop: “This is Monday evening." “I agree with you,” declared George, “it is high time we began the new week with a call on our ! bootlegger." “For a change. I'm thinkirig about something important, George. Have you seen the evening papers?" "I'd forgotten all about it. There's a kid by the P. O. station. I'll get one.” George put two fingers between his teeth and produced a shrill whistle. The newsboy wheeled in his tracks and came run-: ning. Together they surveyed the first j page, but saw nothing of importance, j They were expecting too little. Suddenly Robert’s eye fell on the j largest type on the sheet: “Murder Mystery Stirs Waterbury.” It was all there, all the facts as j they appeared in the Waterbury 1 American the same afternoon. Robert handed the paper to George and rammed his clinched hands into his coat pockets. “By heavens! That is a mystery, George. I won't go into details, but I tell you that woman was dead. More than dead. I saw her!” His jaw was set and there were distinct lines across his forehead. “Then who moved the body. Bob? It didn't get up and walk, did it?” "I wish I knew,” declared Robert .. . “And there’s that note to the police . . “I was just about to ask you, who could have written that?” “Mary Della, presumably. Who else? Poor kid, she was going through the same mental agony that I was until you told me it had been moved. You can't blame her.” 808 THEY walked along saying nothing for some time. Arrived at Harkness hall, they stood by the door and looked at the paper again. “It seems to me. Bob,” said George, “that your little friend's spilled the beans. I hope you've considered the possibility of a call from the police.” Robert shook his head. “I don't think so. George. It says the police are of the opinion that the note was written by a woman using her left hand. You see she's simply tried to relieve her conscience without giving us away.” “Something’s got to be done. George. “Oh, This sounds'4ilw an-

—By Williams

other graveyard expedition to me. Going to ask me to go over and let Mary Della weep on my shoulder?” “I am not. There are some things that even your best friend can’t do for you,” Robert considered. “I tell you what I’ll do. We’ll do, rather. We’ll start for Marjorie’s about an hour early tomorrow evening, and I’ll try to see Mary Della at her home.” “Don't be an Idiot, Bob,” George cried. “Do you want to get the girl in worse trouble than she’s in? How will she explain you to her folks? Write another billet doux and I’ll dron it on the landing.” “Well, thfit’ll be something,” Rob- I ert agreed. “But I’d give my left j arm to have a minute’s conversa- j tion with her.” “And whose car are we to drive? Not yours, I hope.” “Why not?” Robert demanded. “Only two people have see it near that road, and they probably wouldn’t recognize it again. Besides ” he hesitated, “don’t you sees if I deliberately changed cars and they ever learned the truth it would be a sort of admission of guilt.” "Well, whatever you say,” George agreed, “but it certainly looks like we'rfi' inviting trouble.” CHAPTER FOURTEEN WHEN Mary Della came down the stairs to the sidewalk Tuesday morning, she found Joe Speaks waiting patiently in his car by the curb. “Well, Joe . . .” “Surprised, eh? Thought I'd give you a lift to the shop. They rede along Bank street, through Exchange place and began the ascent of North Main street, Joe drawing on a cigaret, Mary Della curiously silent. "Been doing any heavy thinking since I saw you last?” Joe asked. “And how! But you know I told you I couldn’t be rushed.” “I’m not rushing you, Mary Della . . . But it sure would do me a lot of good to hear you say ‘yes’.” He nudged her with his elbow and laughed. “You’re early; care if I pull up to the curb a few minutes?” He brought the car to a stop on Clock avenue and slid down in the seat until his knees touched the dash, Joe's idea of a comfortable posture. “You know, I sort of like this idea of being hitched and having a flat to go home to every night and finding you hanging out the door when I get there.” “Heaven save us!” Mary Della protested, “you're actually trying to be sentimental.” “I’m giving you straight dope,” Joe insisted. “I guess it does sound a little sloppy from me, but that’s the way you got me going round, Mary Della.” “Well, don’t mind me, Joe. I'm just a hairspring vibrator. But how do I know you’d be coming home so reg'lar every night?” “I wouldn't kid you, Mary Della. The woman don't live that can tell me what time I've got to get in nights; but with you it'd be different. ‘l’d like to go home.” “And how long would it last, Joe?” (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

Koran would not permit Meriem to go unarmed. A light spear and a long knife he taught her to use were her weapons of offense and defense. Sometimes she even hunted alone. Her figure rounding into the fullness of an early Grecian goddess, was lithe and graceful, and as she strode through the jungle f-ztness, she was as a huntress as the young Dxana. Often she brought down a deer.

. THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES .

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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In the stamping ground the trio were familiar figures. The little monkeys knew them well, often coming c’ose to chatter and frolic. When Akut and Korak were away the small folk would tug at Meriem’s ornaments and play about as she fed them, helping to pass the long hours until Korak's return. Nor were they worthless as friends. They often her luscious fruits or raced to tell her of near presence of antelope or giraffe. ”

f —By Martin

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One day Meriem had stretched her lithe body, catlike, along a swaying branch when the sudden plunge of an excited little monkey, landing on her shoulders, startled her. “Climb,” he cried, “climb! The Mangani are coming.” The language of the great apes being similar to that of the monkeys. Meriem understood, but she only glanced iazily over her shoulder at the excited disturber of her uface. “Climb yourself, little Manu. -I'm not &|Jaid.”

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edorar Rice Burroughs

But the monkey only * Screamed his warning more lustily from a higher terrace. “Mangani” was their word for apes. To Meriem, Akuk and Korak were aues. “They are returning,” she thought, as she heard the sound of approaching bodies swinging through the trees. Meriem decided to play a joke on Korak. She would pretend to by asleep. She heard the two come closer. Tfiey stopped. Why were they so quiet?

MAY j 6, 1930

—iiy Ahern

—By Blosser;

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan