Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 18, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 May 1930 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OUT OUR WAY

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO (Continued.) WHEN Mary Della entered the police station a little before 6 o’clock that evening, with the C. E., Inspector McMullen was leaning against the grating before the desk talking to the officer on duty. He led them to a large room on the second floor, saw that they were seated, and went out again. "He’s going to bring Womain in and ask him if he’s ever seen either of us before,” the C. E. explained. "Look him over good and make up your mind if he could have been the fellow in the red mask on the Cheshire road that night. You’ll have to think fast, because he won’t be in here but a minute.” “Thinking fast is what I’ve been doing nothing else but for weeks,” Mary Della declared. She had hardly finished speaking when the door opened again and the detective entered with a tall, shallow-chested individual who looked as if he hadn’t been shaved in months. “Recognize these people?” the detective asked. “Naw,” he drawled. “What they In for?” Suddenly the detective whipped something out of his pocket and slapped it over the man’s eyes. It was a red mask. “Look again,” commanded the detective. “That don’t help none,” Womain declared truthfully. “All right, that's all.” McMullen put the mask back in his pocket and led his prisoner out into the hall, pulling the door shut after him. tt tt tt THE C. E. turned to Mary Della expectantly. “What’s the verdict?” Mary Della smiled, snickered and finally laughed outright. “If he’s the Red Mask, I’m your grandma,” she declared. “He’s at least five inches taller than the man I saw on the Cheshire road. He's thin; the Red Mask was a little heavy. This man’s got a little color in his cheeks; the Red Mask’s face was white, as white as that wall there. Oh, he’s impossible!” “Anyway," said the C. E., a trace of disappointment in his voice, “we know now we’ve got to look somewhere else for the murderer." “But where?” “I’m sure I don’t know. But maybe we’ll think of something when we get together Wednesday evening. You haven’t forgotten about the conference, have you?" “Hardly,” Mary Della replied. “I wonder,” she added, “if we could meet in this room instead of at my house. I’m not afraid of this place, now that I’ve been in it. And .. . you see, I haven’t told my folks anything about my part in the mystery yet, and I'd just as soon not worry ’em.” T think that’s a much better plan," the C. E. agreed, “and now .. The detective entered and held the door for them as they passed out “It’s no good. Mac,” the C. E. said in an undertone. “She's positive Womain isn’t the man.” The detective uttered something under his breath. “Well,” he said aloud, “We've got plenty on this bird to keep him out of trouble for a while anyhow. Come again when we’ve got more customers.” CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE MARY DELLA went to the shop Tueeday morning feeling very much as if she had been condemned to life imprisonment for her innocent pent in the Red Mask murder. The only suspect the police had takent into custody she herself had eliminated. The mystery grew deeper, her cwn life more complex. There was nothing to do but go on- always under that awful weight, always hoping for relief from the terrible strain, always meeting new and more unbearable problems. But bad she been able to foresee the developments of tne next thirty-sits hours she would have known that there is no night so long but that it ultimately must give way to the bright light of day. Within those thirty-six hours the murder of Salila Hicks was to be solved definitely and finally, and the Red Mask was to stand before her divested of his mask and prepared to pay the penalty for his crimes. During the better part of the morning, Mary Della’s mind was occupied with thoughts of Rabat and their last conversation. Sljj|§|| done her best to bring hunjrj^l

senses before he did something he only could regret. And on the strength of his silence the last few days, she suspected that her efforts had met with success. Now, true to her sex, she knew that in her heart she had meant not one word she had said to him, that nothing under heaven mattered but his love.. Os course she loved him, had loved him desperately from the moment that he had told her goodnight after their first thrilling hour together. But, unlike many of her sex, she had forced herself to recognize the cnasm that separated them, to consider the interests of the other woman, the woman to whom he was engaged. And when he had tried to force her from the first argument, she had built her case on the second. “If you broke your engagement with her,” she had told him bluntly, “I wouldn’t ever want to see you again ” She asked herself now if she had been quite fair to herself. Would the Marabee girl have been as unselfish? Would she have given Bob his freedom had she known that he She couldn’t finish the question. Os course she had done the right thing! It was hard, but—yes, she had aced as she should have. And if she had lost theonly thing she had ever wanted with all her heart and sould she always would have the comfort of knowing that she had lost it deliberately, because it was right that she should. Olga Svenson was waiting at tbe gate as Mary Della and Miriam went out at 12 o’clock, and she walked down the street with them. “You couldn’t come up to my house for a few minutes, could you, Mary Della?” Olga asked at the first opportunity. “I’d like to have you, too, Miriam,” she added, “but I've got something important to tell Mary Della. She can tell you about it if she wants, to, but. . . . . ” “Don’t worry about me, Olga,” Miriam interrupted. “I’ve got to go try on a hat, and I won’t have much time for gab.” “I wish you didn’t look so serious,” Mary Della said to Olga. “You make me feel that I’m about to hear some bad news, and bad news has been coming my way pretty steady for a long time now. I’d sure like to hear something pleasant for a change.” “Well, it’s not good news exactly,” Olga admitted. “But I've got to tel! you and tell you quick. It’s got me all worked up.” tt n a AT the Green, Miriam waved a hand cheerfully and went on through the Center. Olga and Mary Della turned right on to West Main street and walked rapidly toward Olga's house. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Olga,” Mary Della said. “I don’t care how tough the news, I’ve heard worse.” “It’s about Joe Speaks,” Olga replied abruptly. “You and Joe on the outs?” “Maybe. It doesn’t matter one way or the other, does it?” “Oh, I’m not digging into your private business, Mary Della,” Olga explained quickly. “But Joe’s handing out a lot of lies about you and I wanted to get it straight. I haven't been cutting in on you; probably couldn't if I wanted to. But Joe picked me up at the shop at noon yesterday and took me for a ride, and all he could talk about was you. He said you were the girl ” “The girl he learned about women from?” “He said you were the girl that wrote that note to the police about the Red Mask murder ” Mary Della came to a sudden stop, then walked on slowly. “He did?” she asked lightly. "What else?” “Well, he said he had found a letter in his car that got him to thinking about some other things, and he finally decided that letter was important. And he said when they took him to the station Saturday night he turned the letter over to the cops. I told him ” “The more I hear about Joe .Speaks,” Mary Della declared, “the more I love him. He’s sure a nice I boy.” ! “I told him,” Olga went on, “that {lt was a lie and that I wouldn’t bej lieve it unless you told me yourself it was so. He said that was all right with him. and If you said he was right he'd come around tomorrow night to take me to ride.” “What’s the ride for?” asked Mary Della. just joking, I guess. he was lying .and I

—By Williams

hated him for it, but I said if you told me he was telling the truth, the treat would be on me. And then he suggested the ride. I think Joe’s pretty nice sometimes, Mary Della.” “And you thought he was lying?” Mary Della asked, ignoring this last remark. ‘Well, since he’s spreading the story, I might as well tell you the truth. I did write that note. I was the girl on the Cheshire road the night the woman was murdered, and that letter he found was from the fellow that was with me. Did he say anything about him?” “He said you were a doublecrossing cheater or something like that,” Olga admitted reluctantly. “But I didn’t pay any attention to that, Ma,y Della.” “It’s aL right, Olga. I don’t care what Joe Speaks says about me. He got you off and spilled the beans so you would talk it around the shop and give me a bad name. But I’ve been through too much lately to care about a little thing like that. Joe Speaks was the cause of the whole thing so far as my getting mixed up in it was concerned. He stood me up on a date, and the other fellow came along and we went for a ride. But that’s another story.” tt tt tt OLGA hesitated. “Will you come in and eat lunch with me, Mary Della,” she pleaded. “Ma’ll be glad to see you and we’ll be able to talk.” “Sure I’ll go in,” Mary Della said after a moment. “But let's don’t talk about Joe any more. He’s ancient history with me." Now there are two stories to tell about Tuesday night, and as the action of both took place at about the same time, it is difficult to decide which to relate first. But while they are both interesting, either will keep for a few minutes, and I’ll begin with Timmy’s proposal to Miriam. Miriam was in her South Main street room admiring her new hat in the mirror when someone knocked on the door. It was Timmy, Timmy in his best and slickest, and wearing his broadest smile. “Want to come out for a little ride, Miriam?” he inquired in a tone that suggested it really wasn’t important whether she did or didn’t. “We won’t be long. I’ve got to get the car back before 10:30.” Miriam had come in from work only a few minutes before and had had no supper. But such invitations were rare in Miriam’s drab existence, and she had not forgotten the exhilarating experience of her previous ride with Timmy. “Car. I go like I am, Timmy?" she asked sweetly. “We won’t get out, will we?” “Not unless you want to,” he assured her. “Just a little ride and .... maybe we’ll stop on the road a few minutes. That's all.” The suggestion was not lost on Miriam. She slipped into her coat, gave the new hat an affectionate pat, and locked the door of her room.

(To Be Continued)

'HE SON OF TA

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Several evenings before the house party disbanded, the young Englishman again referred to Meriem’s story of her life in the jungle. There was one thing he wanted definitely answered before he committed himself to the plan he was considering. “Who was Koiak?” he asked. Meriem laughed: “I used to think he was an c.pe —but now I know he is a MAN,” she answered, with emphasis on the last word. “A white man?” persisted Baynes. “Was he your er "

. THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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The girl’s clear, beautiful eyes looked straight into his. She was far too unsophisticated to guess what he was driving at She laughed merrily: “No, he was not my brother. Korak—was just Korak!” and again she broke into a gay laugh as she realized that never before had she attempted to analyze the relationship that existed between herself and Korak. The Hon. Morison said no more. But he thought of a certain luxurious apartment he owned in London.

—By Martin

The last evening they were to be together Meriem sat out a dance with Baynes under the tropical moon bathing the veranda. She had been listening entranced to his stories of London and Paris, all like fairy-tales to her fascinated ears. After a short silence he drew closer and bent his lips close to her face. He put his arm about her and she did not draw away. “I love you!” he whispered. She f not reply. “Tell me,” he add, you return my love.”

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

His lips had almost touched her when a vision of Korak sprank. like a miracle before her eyes. She saw Korak’s face, she felt his lips hot against hers and then for the first time she guessed what love meant. She drew gently way from Baynes. “Let us wait,” she said. “I am too young to rarry.” The Hon. Morison was perfectly sure he had not mentioned marriage. “Good night,” she said, and left him. Baynes lighted a cigarette, blew the smoke toward the moon, and smiled.

_MAY 31, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan