Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 2, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 May 1930 — Page 13

MAT 13, I93tL

OV r r otIR WAY

/ • \ / 80V- OAT MULE \ /GOOD GAwSvW/ o ' O eToppeo ) DowV "Tv-mT /AT OaT WALL AM* A© \ o\l MOLE i KEP OM ©OT Av-\ ) OumP ( ) grabbed de saoolehawm/ £ ' M " '' rT^" ,n > n * <e/ u* 1 y wiut 1 < i -Tv-\P \ ipT o'.f?.w l lViam3 REG U T PAT orr *’“* I 1 . C 1930 BY NEA SEfiVICC. I,NC.

RfiSKmaK] 15Y jOrCTE ANN MOORE

SYNOPSIS MARY DELLA CHUBB—The best lookin* rlocker in the clock shop, if not in Watcrburv. Lives with her parents in a Bank street bat. MIRIAM ROBBlN—Limited in S. A., but Mary Della's best girl friend; also a docker. JOE SPEAKS-Marv Della’s steady, voun* man about town, good looking and hard-boiled. ROBERT HENLEY CALKMAN 111 Yale senior and football star, one of the Calkmans of Detroit. GEORGE 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 Mary Delia. OLGA SVENSON Also a docker and not too popular with any one. Mary Della and Robert are parked on the old piece of Highway olf tne Cheshire road when a women is murdered bv the Red Mark in the darkness ahead of their cur. They leave the body and decide to say nothing about it, to protect themselves. But after three days Marv Della writes an anonymous note to the police teliing about the murder and where the body is. The American carries the story under glaring headlines the next day. but says the police could not And the bodv. Brett Younger has written a musical comedy called “The Clock Shop Clockin which Marv Della Is to be the leading ladv. Mary Della discovers that she has lost the letter written her bv Robert and from which she tore a piece of paper to write the police about the murder. Leaving the first rehearsal of “The Clock Shop dockers," Marv Della sees Robert's c.ir parked in front of The Elton. She gets In and waits for developments. Robert and George MacKrnv come out of The Elton and find Mary Della in the car. George says he has an engagement. but will meet Robert at the hotel later. Robert takes Mfirv Della for n ride, during which he suggests that life isn’t always fair to lovers. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (Continued) “Not us,” said the C. E. “We’re here to find out why you're holding out on us.” The three laughed and turned to other and less important topics. After a time the C. E. asked the superintendent if he still had the mysterious note. “I certainly have,” the superin- j tendent replied. "Want to see it?” j He took a batch of papers from a 1 pigeon hole of his desk and selected an open half-sheet, with envelope attached. “Well,” said the C. E., ‘all the boys at the office have seen it, and Charlie and I thought we'd like to give it the once over.” He took the note and gazed at it curiously. Then, as if hardly realizing what he was doing, he slipped the slip off and handed the note to the assistant city editor. "Nice handwriting. Charlie. You could do as well with your foot.” He fingered the envelope for a moment, then held it up toward the light. "Looking for finger-prints?” the superintendent smiled. "The watermark is Linwood.’ ” The assistant city editor looked up fniSi the note quickly, but the C. E. only lowered his arm and nodded his head indifferently. "So I see." he agreed. "But that doesn't mean much bv itself, does it?” “Not much.” The superintendent once more clipped the envelope and note together and shoved them into a pigeonhole. "Don't hur-y off. boys The morning's hardly L 'gun.'' "Got to get back, superintendent," the C. E. said. "Can't get out a paper with the whole desk force out, you know. Mighty interesting' letter you've got there. Hear anything else about the yellow car?” "Not a thing. Nor about whoever it was that called in. for that matter. Glad you stopped in; always glad to see you, you know,” Passing by the city hall again the C. E. smiled broadly. “We’re on a hot trail. Charlie. ’Linwood.’ Nice watermark that. I shouldn't wonder if it means something, and it might meanan extremely good-looking girl in a green leather jacket, whose frock misses her knees by an inch or so. Keep your eyes open, pardr.er. We nrglv get at the bottom of this thing yet.” 808 ABOUT all Mary Della heard in the shop all day Thursday was “the policemen’s ball.” Miriam had been working herself up over it for a week, and with the great event only a day distant, she could barely think of anything else. “Darling,” she said late that afternoon. as she vibrated a hairspring with undue violence, “I know I won't sleep a wink tonight for thinking about it. Can you imagine me in a frock that never did have any back in it worth mentioning and a scalloped bottom like Dolores Costello wore in that picture we saw the other night? Child. I'm going to knock those pavement pounders for a row of cat whiskers, and I don't meai. will I.” . "If you get rough in the armory," said Mary Della shortly, “they’ll

throw you out. Who’s going to lead the grand march?” “Mayor Guilfoile, honey; who else? And then Superintendent McLean, and then the politicians and the captains and the lieutenants. and . . .” “Where you planning to line up, Miriam?” “Me? Oh, I’ll be there. And way up front, too, honey, if you ask me. I’ve had more bids than I know how to take care of. Want to drag along behind me?” “Not much. Joe's taking me and he don’t like to make the cops feel bad by pushing in at the head of the line. Going to speak to me when you get all dolled up with a uniform by your side?” “Oh, I’m democratic, darling. I’ll give you the high sign. But don’t try to take my baby away from me or I’ll make a scene. I'm not good lookin’, but I’ll fight for my man.” “That's about the only way you’ll get one ” “Now, is that nice, Mary Della? But you can't insult me today. I'm too excited to bother with trifles. Oh, baby! A fox-trottin’ fQcl. That’s me tomorrow night, and you can tell the world. Hairsprings vibrated, movements assembled, the afternoon wore on, the whistle blew, and Mir.am went to her room to put on the party frock she’d manufactured out of almost nothing and stood before the mirror for a good hour practicing smiles. CHAPTER NINETEEN XTR. CHUEB had gone to work Thursday morning and Mary Della found him in an unusually happy mcod. She sat on the arm of his chair and played with his hair while he explained the fine art of bowling. “You’ve got to train your eye. That’s the first thing about bowling. If you can’t depend on your eye, you just might as well try something else. With a good eye it don’t take long to train your arm . . . You take hold of the ball like this, see? Not too tight, not too loose, but just so . . . Then you get a free, easy swing, keep your eye on the pins, and let it go . . “But mine always go rolling out in the ditch,” said Mary Delia, pathetically. "I don’t care how much I look or how easy I swing my arm, I can’t keep the ball in the middle.” “That’s because you don’t train your eye,” Mr. Chubb declared with authority. “Instead of looking at that No. 1 pin, you look at the ball cr the alley and off she goes. Now the first time I tried to bowl—Say! Will you let my head alone and listen? How can I talk when you’re pulling my hair out? The first time I got hold of a ball, I says to myself: ‘Now’s the time to get started rieht. old man,’ and then I put my eve on that center pin and ” “And missed everything in sight, didn’t you?” Mrs. Chubb stood in the kitchen door and laughed. “Now tell the truth. Pop. I’ll bet you didn't hit anything but the floor.” “A lot you know about it.” Mr. Chubb declared. “How about the time you went down in the Y. M. C. A. alleys and pretty near killed a man when the ball slipped out of your hand?” “Os course you'd bring that un, ’ Mrs. Chubb winked at Mary Della, and began putting chairs to the table. “3ut just the same, you didn't answer my question. Did you hit anything the first time you bowled, pop?” “I sure did. I hit one pin anyhow. and that's more’n I expected to hit.” He chuckled softly and put his own personal section of the newspaper to one side. “But keep your eyes on the scores tomorrow morning and sec what the old man gets.” “Gosh,” said Mary Della, “you’re getting well fast. Going to bowl tonight, pop?" Mr. Chubb grunted in the affirmative and went to the table. b a b "T SEE in the American," Mrs. JL Chubb began according to schedule, “that the police think that telephone call about a yellow car out on the Cheshire road was humbug. Somebody trying to put over a private grudge. I guess. looks to me like they'd know by this time they couldn't catch a wild goose.” “Is that your own copyrighted way of saying that they're on a wild-goose chase?” asked Mary Delia, hopefully. “That's what I said, wasn't it?” demanded Mrs. Chubb. "Os course it’s % wild-goose chase or they'd of

—By Williams

had somebody in jail by now, wouldn’t they?” “I guess so. But I'd sure like to know if the Red Mask has been scared off by all this publicity. You never feel comfortable with a nice fellow like that around.” Mr. Chubb cleared his throat, "Mary Della ...” "Ccme on, cut loose, pop. You’re getting ready to sav something ugly. It's in your eyes.” “Uh . . , What did you say? You don’t see anything in my eyes ...” “All right, pop. We’ll say I didn't. Now let’s have it.” Mr. Chubb fixed the blade of his knife between the outside prongs of. his fork and pried the center prongs into place. "I was going to ask you,” he said at length, “what makes you scared of the Red Mask. He don’t bother anybody but parkers, as far as I’ve heard.” * “Meaning to ask me,” Mary Della teased, “If I am one of these awful girls that park With a fellow by the side of the road? Well, pop, I’ve parked now and then.” “Sounds like you’re proud of it," said Mrs. Chubb shortly. “I didn’t mean for it to sound that way, mom. I’m just being honest with pop. What he really wants to know, but don’t know how to ask, is do I pet. Well, that depends on what you know as petting, pop ...” “I didn’t have the word in the back of my head,” Mr. Chubb declared. “Didn’t you, pop? My mistake. But whatever word you had in your head, I know what you were thinking about. Anyhow, I’m going to settle one point while we’re talking. I’ve parked out with Joe Bentley a good many times, and I’ve let him kiss me, maybe half a dozen times. That’s the whole story as far as Joe goes ...” Mrs. Chubb was about to speak, but glanced at Mr. Chubb and thought better of it. “I didn't bring the subject up,” Mr. Chubb said, keeping his eye on his plate, “but what makes you say ‘as far Joe goes’? Somebody else . . She put her fork on the edge of the plate and held a napkin against her lips, looking hastily from her mother to her father. They appeared to be more interested in their food than the conversation. a a a WHY ... I have parked with another fellow, pop . . . once.” Did her father know? . . . Was all this a preliminary for something more serious . . .? Or. had he stumbled into the question by accident? “And you didn't tell your mother? I didn't think you’d do a thing like that . . .” “But . . . you don’t understand, pop. I—Oh, I can’t explain it now, Pop,-but . . Mr. Chubb suddenly reached over and put his hand on Mary Della’s. “Listen, kid . . . I'm not asking you to explain anything . . . You're a Chubb, and while the Chubbs never amounted to much. I never heard of one doing an underhanded trick. But you worry your mother, and I don't like that. (To Be Continued.)

THE SON OF TARZAN

Korak advanced to meet the monster. He. too. was growling. In his mind a plan was forming. To close with this powerful, untired brute after having just passed through a terrific battle with another of his kind, would be to tempt defeat. He must find an easier way to victory. Crouching, he prepared to meet the charge; nor had he long to wait. With wide open jaw r s and clutching fingers the ape came down on the waiting Korak with the tpeed of an express train. -

. THE TNDIANAPOLIS 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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Korak did not move until the great arms opened to embrace him. Then he dropped low beneath them, swung a terrific right to the side of the beast’s jaw as he sidestepped his rushing body, and swinging quickly about, stood ready over the fallen king. Each time the beast struggled to rise a sledge-hammer blow sent him sprawling. Froth flicked its hideous lips. Bloodcurdling roars tumbled from the deep chest, but hot once did he gain his feet.

—By Martin

The apes who had cheered on their king nowjeered at h'm. One more terrific punch from the Killer and then from the stubborn bull’s lips came faintly the word “Kagoda!” meaning “I sarvender." "Then rise and go with your people,” said Korak. An old bull came slowly toward the Killer: “You have beaten our king. We do not want him now. Where shall we find another? Will you come and oe our ruler?” Korak turned toward Akut. There is your king,” he said.

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Akut did not wish to be separated from Korak. He wanted Meriem and Korak to live with the tribe. But Korak knew ?feriem would never be safe there. “We will live near you.” he said, “but we shall not dwell among you." A.kut at first refused to leave his human friend, but the call of blood would not be denied. He saw the admiring glantr ,ast upon him by a young female ape and wun a farewell grunt to his beloved Korakheturned and followed the tribe.

PAGE 13

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan