Indianapolis Times, Volume 41, Number 312, Indianapolis, Marion County, 10 May 1930 — Page 11

MAY 10, 1900

OUT OUR WAY

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, sy.NOP.sis MARY DELIA CHUBB The best looking docker in the clock shop. If not in Walerburv. Lives with her parents In a Bank street bat. MIRIAM ROBBIN Limited in S. A., 'but Marv Della's best girl friend; also a . docker. JOE SPEAKS— Marv Della's steadv, young man about town, good looking and hard-boiled. r ROBERT HENLEY CALKMAN 111 Yale senior and football star, one of the Caikmans of Detroit. GEOROE McKRAY- He wanted to go *to Harvard but the cards were against him; also a senior at Yale. Happy-go-lucky is George. MARJORIE MARABEE Daughter of fashion, living on Cracker hill. Fiancee -of Robert. TIMMY FITZMOAN—Petting Is his specialty. In love with Marv Della. OLGA SVENSON- Also a docker and not too popular with any one. ♦ Leaving the first rehearsal of "The Clock Shop dockers." Mary Della sees Robert's car parked in front of The Elton. She gets in and waits for developments. Marv Della and Robert are parked on the old niece of Highway of! the Cheshire road when a woman Is murdered by the Red Mask in the darkness ahead of their car. Thrv leave the body and decide to sav nothing about it. to protect themselves. But after threc*<iavs Mary Della writes an anonymous mote to the police telling about the murder and where the body is. The American carries the story under glaring headlines the next day. but savs the poltee could not find the bodv. - Brett Younger has written a musical comedy called “The Clock Shop Clockin which Mary Della is to be the leading ladv. Marv Della discovers that she has lost the letter written her by Robert and from which she tore a piece of paper to write the police about the murder. .CHAPTER SIXTEEN (Continued) THEY slipped down Sherman hjll and wound about until the car turned into the highway leading into Woodbury. The village was asleep. Occasionally they passed a <hou.se In which a light shone and a .single pedestrian crossed the road as they entered North Woodbury. But there was no other signs of life. Offi in the night once more, they swept between the railings of a narrow bridge and ascended a short -hill with no apparent loss of speed. "Marv Della . . -What?” "Did we drive out here to —to *sulk?" Mary Della twisted a helpless little handkerchief until it tore, but she did not answer. "Life is very confusing, Mary Della. I almost said disappointing. But we can do very little to change it. and perhaps we ought to make • the most of it as it comes to us. There's a question. I know, but I'm inclined to think we ought.’’ Mary Della let the bit of handkerchief squirm in the palm of her hand. Then very carefully, she spread it out on one knee and pressed out its folds. “As far as I can see." Robert resumed quietly, 'it's largely a matter of honesty. Theoretically, when we are honest with ourselves we are of necessity honest with others who come into our lives. But it doesn’t hold always. Right at this moment I am trying to be honest with some one else; but to do it I must be dishonest with myself. Do you see what I mean? - ’ Mary Della caught a corner of the handkerchief and stuffed it into a jacket pocket. “I'm afraid you're talking over my head. Bob.” , "Then I'll phrase it differently. I said I was trying to be honest with someone else. I mean to *av that I've no right to be out here with you, that — "Well, who ” "Just a moment, I haven’t finished. In coming out with you I am being unfair to others. But if I were only honest with myself. I would not only be with you—l’d stop this car and take you in my arms and—and " "And . . Mary Della interrupted . . . "would it be terribly dishonest to the others if—if you were honest with yourself for just a minute?" a a 11 was just beyond that fork in the road •- here the Woodbury ;and Bethlehem highways merge into -one to Watertown' that the brakes 'on the exceptionally long and ex"eeptionally yellow roadster squealed brought the big car to an abtrupt stop. * There had been no preliminary, further conversation. Robert ♦simply had twisted in the seat and -caught Mary Della to him; and •Mary Della, surprised, but not overt surprised, had given herself to him, •willingly, eagerly. • It was their second kiss, but it ‘lacked none of the enchantment of 4 lhe first for these two. who but a minutes before were agreed in ■ their hearts that their lives lay in t emotelv separated channels between which there was no interme*dis.te ground where they might • meet. For an eternity a deliriously aappy little girl of the clock shop Ja nd a Bank street third floor flat •hung upon the Ups of an entranced young man of Yale and one of De-

J troit’s wealthiest and most substan- ! tial families. But for them the pretty distinctions of a smug and superficial social order did not exist. They knew in that fleeting moment only a beautiful an inexplicable happiness. And then—with never a word—the young man of Yale and Detroit released the young woman of the clock shop and Bank street—and the long and yellow car went on its way as if nothing had happened. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN “T)OB,’ said George, as the car Sj drew away from the Elton past the Carrie Welton fountain, “there’s something I’ve learned since I saw you, of first importance." “Well, if it isn’t a secret, let’s have it.” Robert was leaning forward so that he might see when the red light of the center traffic signal changed to green. “Before coming back to the hotel,” George explained, “I walked around town for a bit, up one street and down another, and ” “You would like a Stoddard lecture,” Robert observed, “is all this prelude necessary?” The red light went out and a yellow light lit up in its place. “If you’d not interrupt,” said George. “I might make a little progress. As I was saying, I wandered around a bit and after a time I found myself in front of the newspaper office—the American and the Republican, I believe the brass plate read —and on a panel to one side of the entrance was a news bullletin written by hand in large characters. . . ” “Well.’ come on." Robert urged, “what did it say?” The yellow light went out and the green appeared. Robert pressed the toe of his right foot and the car shot around to the left into East Main street. Immediately there was a shrill whistle and Robert applied the brakes. A policeman stepped from the rideway before the cigar store on the opposite side of Exchange Place and came toward them. "Bob, old man,” George said quickly, "get set for a shock. The jig's up!” "Will you stop talking like a villain in a dime novel! What jig’s up?" "The bulletin on the front of the newspaper office ” George was excited. “ 1 think I can quote it. It said: 'New Development in Red Mask Murder—police Seek Long Yellow Roadster.’” The policeman stood by the curb and rested one hand on the car door by George’s' knee. "Well, young fellow," he asked looking directly at Robert, "where you think you're goin'?" a a a ROBERT looked at the policeman and wondered if he should bother to reply. It might be easier and avert a scene there on the street if he simply got out of the car and suggested that they walk to the police station. Or better yet, he "might suggest that they ride. What a nice little party it would be, the policeman, George and himself packed cozily into the roadster, on their way to what would most certafhly be a long grilling. v "Say! Did you hear what I said?” The policeman was nettled. "Oh, did you say something, officer?” George asked, affecting great surprise. "Really, I thought you asked a question?” "Zyj you’re a couple of wise guys, hey? Your partner don't say nothin.’ and you crack funny. I got a good notion to take the two of jouse in . . Robert saw a ray of sunshin" “We've given you a bad impression officer.” he said quickly, “but wc got a bit of bad news just a momer. ago and your whistle caught us £ little off guard. I'm sorry, officer did we . . . pass a red light?” knowing, of course, that he had gone to some pains to pay the red light his respects, but trvfcig to determine if that ray of sunshine was real or an illusion. Red light, me eye!” exclaimed the policeman. "If yu’d passed the red light I’d pull you; there’s a campaign on over them lights right now. No. you didn’t pass a red light, but you darn near run over that sign over there that says “No Left Turns.” And you was turnin’ left when you done it.” Somewhat appeased by Robert’s apoiogy and incongruous humility, the policeman told the two in raccoon coats to be off and quick about it and learn to read Signs next time

—By Williams

they passed through Waterbury. And then, as they sped away, he spread his legs, rocked on his heels and chuckled quietly. "College boys . . contemptuously . . , “Guess they don’t pull in their necks . .. .Right decent sort, that fellow under the wheel . . He hadn’t entirely recovered from George’s thrust , . . “Come from millionaire family likely . . . Nifty bus they’re drivin’ . .

NOT many hours later he w*as to think of those two and their exceptionally long and exceptionally yellow roadster and wish with all his heart that it were physically possible to kick one’s self. That was when he had reported in at headquarters after the night’s work and learned of the report concerning the yellow car that had been received after he had gone out on his beat the night before. When the information that a long, yellow roadster Jiad been seen leaving the marked road was received by the officer on the desk Tuesday night, he shook his head, entered the report on the book, and went through the usual routine in an effort to check back on the paystation from which the call had come. But he was, this police officer, a little embarrassed as he did so, for he was quite convinced that the whole thing was a practical joke. And there was some ground for this suspicion when you stop to consider that until now, and including this last bit of annonymous testimony, the police had no proof that there had been a murder, only the note scribbled to the superintendent, such evidence as the detectives had gathered on the snow-covered road, ar.d this last call. In the absence of anything more than the original note, it is only reasonable that the matter would have been dropped and forgotten, for it is not rational to look for a murderer when one does not know there has been a murder, j But then, there were the sticks and dried leaves, taken from beneath the snow by the detectives. On these was mute testimony of bloodshed, though, of course, it may have been nothing more serious than a brawl with knives or razors in operation. You understand, it had not been established that there was any connection between the note and the blood-stained leaves; but, on the other hand, a connection was implied and this was enough to keep the police interested, though not enough to keep them from being skeptical. This telephone call about the yellow car ... it merely added a little zest to the problem on paper. There were many long, yellow roadsters in Connecticut; quite a number in Waterbury, in fact; and even if the informer had been telling the truth and the eventually discovered, was it irot a fact that the strip of road in question was used nightly as a rendezvous by amorous parkers? And where were they? (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

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Wi: - 'hing eyes, as she recognized Korak, the r se. Nearby lay the Killer’s spearforge Menem saw and snatched it up. No faint overcame her in face of this primeval battle. Jhe was excited, but cool and unafraid. Was not her Korak fighting a Mangani that would have stolen her? Deep into the great ape’s savage heart she plunged the sharp spear. Korak needed not this help, but smiled his approval of her bravery. Jf

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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SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

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He seemed co. be looking at Meriem through new eyes. Had she changed so suddenly within the few hours of his absence? ,How tall and fine sne was! How long it had been since he had found her in her father’s village, a little Arab girl, ne did not know. Time does not matter in the iungle and he kept no trace of the passing day.-. His gaze wandered from Meriem to the ■Mead ape. Suddenly he realized something.

—By Martin

r LeTs see now -hov) lono- 'j seventy-four Years,h j* C 1930 BY WC. sCWvict"lNC fioj

Koraks eyes went wide and then closed to narrow slits as they glared down at the abysmal brute at his feet When next his glance rose to Meriem’s face, a slow flush suffused his own. Now, indeed, was he looking at her through new eyes—the eyes of a man looking at a maid! He came close to her, the love-tight in his but sne did not understand it, not realizing how® close they boU; were to maturity.

' OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edofar Rice Burrrug’hs

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“Meriem," he whispered, and his voice was husky. “Merierr.!’' Suddenly he crushed her to him. She looked up into his face laughing, and then he bent and kissed her. Even then she did not understand. She could not recall ever being kissed before.. It was very nice. She thought it was Korak's way of showing how glad he was. Korak to say something, wanted to tell emotion choken huh.

PAGE 11

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—Ey Small

—By Cowan