Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 12, Indianapolis, Marion County, 24 May 1930 — Page 5

MAY 24, 1930-

OUT OUR WAY

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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (Continued.) "It’s the truth, and you will learn it to your grief if you do not listen to me. Thornton Webstone could give you comforts, but Robert’s potential millions, and possessions capable of producing more millions, •will assure you of everything that can be desired in this world. But why are we discussing Thornton, I should like to know? You are engaged to Robert and I understood you to say that you had no other intention but to marry him.” "I did mother ... but . . .” "There are no buts, Marjorie. I have told you the entire truth, and unless you devote yourself wholly to Bob and do everything posssible to bring this marriage off successfully, you will be a traitor to yourself and to your poor parents, who have given up everything for your happiness. Do you understand?’” Marjorie did not answer. Her eyes were dry now and she sat with her hands clasped tight in her lap, staring at the figured wall before her. Mrs. Marabee, apparently satisfied that she had gained her point, walked to a window to tug gently at n fold in the curtain, and then went out. n n tt IT is always annoying to have to Introduce a character who has no part in the story and yet is troublesome enough to introduce himself into the action in such way that he can not be ignored easily. In recognizing Halyon Trigilimotzki, therefore, I warn you that his name Is of no importance beyond the moment, and that neither his reason nor his atrocious name will appear hereafter. If you like the name, of course, and care to see more of it, you are at liberty to inspect the court records and read his banal testimony given at the subsequent trial. That testimony merely established one fact, an important fact, to be sure, but quickly established and quickly eliminating Halyon from the tragedy. Halyon Trigilimotzki managed a farm, chiefly covered with grape vines and grass, not many miles from the foot of Southington mountain. It was his habit to rise early every morning, douse water on his grizzled face from a basin on a shelf by the porch, and take a short walk around his grape' arbors. This program, you understand, was a sort of morning constitutional and was largely responsible for his vigorous health, a fact irrelevantly commented upon by the chief counsel for the defense when But that is neither here nor there. On the morning in question Halyon performed his ablutions with customary indifference, struggled into a heavy jacket, took his hat from a peg by the door and Set out on his round. It was a pleasant morning, and as Halyon walked he thought of other scenes far, far away, where he had spent a happy boyhood, a land of brutal weather and treacherous living. And then as he reached the far corner of his holding and was turning to the left to follow the line a few hundred yards north he stopped and gazea at the ground a few reet away. To the untrained eye there was nothing unusual in the few square feet of earth upon which his eyes rested, but to Halyon Trigilimotski there was something strangely interesting there. * * a AFTER a few moments he took a long stride forward and kicked at the hard dirt. He kicked again and again, until Ije had managed to dig a hole only a few inches deep. Then he stood still and stared once more. A week before he had passed that spot and seen nothing unusual. Then the snow: and he could have seen nothing if he had looked. But this morning the snow had disappeared and he was inexplicably fascinated by what appeared to be nothing more than a patch of earth slightly lighter than the dirt around It. Halyon went directly back to his house, caught up a pick from a shedroom and returned to the corner of his field. , • The ground was hard, but the pick forced Its way gradually until at last It dug up a tiny square of brown doth. Halyon examined the cloth carefully and dropped it on the ground. He walked a few feet to one side, leaned the pick against h past, and went away.

, Two hours later he came back i with five men, two of them in uniform, and showed them the bit of brown cloth. They talked among themselves and occasionally laughed, but when Halyon pointed to the oblong of light earth, they grew sober and told him to dig. Halyon took up his pick and dug. After an hour the men went away, but that afternoon two of them came back and brought a hearse along. They put something into a long basket, shoved the basket into the hearse, and drove off down the road with Halyon on the seat between them. The last edition of The American that evening—which is the Wall Street edition, of course—flashed a startling set of headlines on an eager reading public: MUTILATED BODY OF SALILA HICKS, VICTIM OF CHESHIRE ROAD MURDER, UNCOVERED ON FARM NEAR MILLDALE. Identification of Partially Decomposed Corpse by Mrs. Moodle Stirs Police to Fresh Efforts in search for Red Mask, CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT THE identification of what a short time before had been Salila Hicks, nondescript young woman of establishments frowned upon by society, was effected with surprising ease and speed, and a tribute to the efficiency of police methods. While the body was being brought to the funeral home, the police were going through their files of missing persons. One of the first names they came upon, of course, was that of the Hicks girl, with a notation that referred them to a separate file, from which they took a memorandum of the Moodle woman’s conversation with the superintendent. By the time a telephone call to headquarters advised that the body had arrived, Mrs. Moodle was in custody. She was taken immediately to the funeral home, where she identified a cheap ring set with a topaz, a small brooch of good quality, a pair of black pumps, a brown tam, and a brown top coat. She did not view the body. Mrs. Moodle supported her principal points of identification with a fairly recent photograph, which Showed the brown top coat, the brown tam, and the ring, the last . a large and gaudy affair easily recognized as the same now in possession of the police. Mrs. Moodle was perfunctorily thanked for her assistance and released after being warned not to leave the city. To which she replied -with surprising subtlety: “An I'd be a nice one to go runnin’ off an’ neglectin’ my business now, wouldn’t I?” The police now had something to work with, besides a mysterious note and suspicious telephone call, and they set about their task with a will, beginning with a second visit to the funeral home with "Snake” Womain in tow. "Snake” entered the silent room with a nonchalance that nettled the detectives, but when, standing by the long casket, he was made to gaze upon the said relic of the late flame, he fell to his knees with a thud, buried his face in his hands and groaned. “Oh. my God! .... Oh. my Gtd!” "Well. . . .?” whispered a detective standing by him. “The poor kid!” Womain wailed at the top of his voice. “The poor, helpless kid! .... What made me do it? .. . What—” The detective lifted the man to his feet and led him to a chair by the well. “Well. ‘Snake,’” he said calmly, “are you ready to talk business?’ * But Womain only continued to cry out to the Deity and to utter vague sentences that suggested an acute remorse. No amount of coaxing could get anything more out of him. and he finally was taken back to his cell in the police station. It is not part of this story, but you will be interested to know that they buried Salila Hicks. With precious little ceremony, to be sure, but what would you have? Mrs. Moodle wiped a tear and placed a small wax wreath on the mound. A young man passing through the cemetery stood for a moment with bowed head, and went on his way. The hearse hurried off with a great roar, and Mrs. Moodle. digging around in her vanity case for a trolley token, took one last look at the freshly turned earth and walked off toward the car line. Salila Hicks was definitely dead, decently buried, and soon to be properly forgotten.

—By Williams

SALILA HICKS’ body was found and Identified on Wednesday and buried Thursday afternoon. Going back to the shop after lunch Friday midday, Mary Della almost ran over a bright-eyed little boy with an extremely dirty face and a broad smile. “Sorry,” Mary Della muttered and tried to push by; but the boy once more stood in her path and Mary Della realized at last that he was holding an envelope addressed to her. The instant she took it, the youngster turned and ran down the street, whistling. “Well, I’ll be! How did he know who I was?” Mary Della stopped outside the gate to tear an end from the envelope and the brief note inside: MARY DELLA—I know you don’t want to see me again,' but developments since I last saw you make it imperative that you meet me after you are through work tonight. I will wait at the corner and walk heme with you, if I may. 808. "Wonder what developments he’s talking about?” Mary Della asked herself as she hurried up the stairs. "Must be about finding that body. But where does he get this stuff about me not wanting to see him? Ht knows I want to see him, and he knows as well as I do that I ought not to want to see him.” She tucked the note into the neck of her frock and pressed it to her heart. With Miriam's incessant sidemouth chatter helping, the afternoon passed quickly enough. Miriam had not yet recovered from th: thrill of Brett’s "Clock Shop dockers,” and she was eager to know whether Mary Della seriously was considering accepting the invitation to go on the stage. "I think you’re stringing me, honey,” she declared. "You couldnjt be in your senses and not see what a big chance that is. Why, darling, you’ll be famous and have your pictures in the magazines and get no end of proposals from rich young men whose old men have got more jack than they know how to use themselves. Why don’t you tell me the truth?” "You won’t believe me when I do, Miriam,” Mary Della replied. “Everything is too upset to tilk about going on the stage now, and I haven’t thought about it. I may take the chance and I may not. But I won’t do it while this other thing is hanging over my head.” Olga Svenson broke in sweetly: "What other thing, Mary Della?” "Her uncle’s divorce,” said Miriam sharply, “but it’s no business of yours. Assemble your movements, woman, and stay out of private conversations.” "Aw. go run around the block,” returned Olga, with venom. Any conversation you’re in ain't private long.” St U St MARY DELLA found Robert waiting on the corner as he had said. But he was not alone. "I want you to know a friend of mine,” Robert smiled. "He’s in possession of a good deal of information that concerns you and me, and I’ve brought him along to hear youi side of the story.” (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

“I know now who you are,” said the stranger to Malbihn. “And such as you are not wanetd in our country. I will spare your life but the next time you see me, remember who I am.” He spoke a name into the scoundrel's ear that filled The Swede with wide-eyed terror, before he was sent sprawling through the tent door. Changing his tone, the stranger addressed Meriem in a tongue she did nop understand. She replied in

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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SALESMAN SAM

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At once he put his question in that language. "They were taking me away from Korak,” was all she answered. “Who are your people? Who is Korak?” he asked, looking at her strange, barbaric garments wonderingly . “Why Korak is an ape. I have no other people. Korak and I like i nthe jungle alone since Akut went to be king of the apes. lam Meriem I, too, am an ape!” The stranger watched her closely and a pitying light came into his eyes.

—By Martin

Gaining her confidence, he learned more of Meriem’s story, but in the end he was as much mystified pj in the beginning. He knew the jungle well; knew that men had lived alone and naked among savage beasts for year; but a girl! It was not possible! He guessed that her Korak and their life among the apes was but a figment of a disordered mind. He could not allow this poor, insane child to wander longer amid the jungle. .

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

At last he persuaded her to return with him to his “village’’ or “douar." as he called It in Arabic. “There my wife will take care of you until we can find Korak or Korak finds us,” he explained. "Korak will find his way to me,” the girl said simply. “Let us go to your ‘douar .” On the fifth day they came suddenly upon a great plain and from the edge of the forest the girl saw in the distance a sight that caused her to draw back.

PAGE 5

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan