Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 19, Indianapolis, Marion County, 2 June 1930 — Page 11

JUNE 2,1930.

OUT OUR WAY

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CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE (Continued.) •‘You know what I’d like to do, Miriam?” Timmy asked when they were in the car. ‘‘Just for the fun of it, I’d like to go out and park off Jhe Cheshire road where Salila was killed.” “Where who was killed?” Miriam asked, not fully comprehending what he was proposing. "Salila Hicks, the girl they say the Red Mask murdered. You know.” Miriam looked at Timmy in astonishment. “Say!” she exclaimed. “What do you take me for anyway? Why, I wouldn’t even ride toy that place if I could help it.” "That’s silly,” Timmy declared. “They can’t be killing people out there every night, and I'd like to known I had the nerve to park on that road at night. What are you afraid of. Miriam?” “I’m afraid of everything that’s got any tie-up with murder. Not tonight anyhow, Timmy. Some other night, maybe, if I don’t lose my nerve. Have you got your mind made up to park?” a a a "ITTELL. I sure have,” Timmy W informed her. “I’ve got my mind made up to park because I want to ask you something. Something that means a lot to me.” Miriam hopelessly naive, failed to sense the import of this remark, but her curiosity w'as aroused. “Something that means a lot to you, Timmy? Does it mean anything to me?” “Well, I hope so, anyhow. Do you like me much, Miriam?” Something warned Miriam that this was a forerunner of something more interesting, and she was afraid that what she said might be used against her. ‘Sure, I like you, Timmy,” she replied honestly enough.” “I don’t know how mueft, but—l like you, all right.” “Well, don’t you love me jut a little bit?” “Good night! That’s different ... I don’t know, Timmy. I wouldn’t know love if I got all tangled up in it.” “I like you, Miriaifa, and what’s more I love you. What do you know about that?” Miriam- didn't know anything about it. She only wished she did. “You told me you liked me the last time we went to ride,” she reminded him. “And I said I was glad. And I’m still glad. Every girl wants to be liked. And they want to be loved about twice as much.” They had ridden out Meridian road, and now Timmy put the car in second gear and began the descent of Southington mountain. “I guess you don’t get what I’m driving at, Miriam,” Timmy resumed. “Ever since that first ride I been thinking about you and about me and about evexi thing, and I got a hunch we’d get along pretty well together. “Os course we get along, Timmy. Anvbody could get along with you.” Timmy took the compliment gracefully. “I’m sure glad to hear you talk like that because I—l want you to marry me, Miriam . . .” “Timmy! Don’t say that. Why, we ” “Going to say we haven’t been running around together long enough?” asked Timmy. “What’s that got to do with it? I love you; I think you like me pretty well; so why not let’s take the jump?”

a a a FOR once in her life Miriam was serious. Timmy's bomb not only had taken her breath, but her head as well. She couldn't put two consecutive thoughts together and make sense. She heard Timmy's voice saying: *'Come on now. sweetheart; say •yes’ and make me hapjjy.” And then her own voice, as though someone else were speaking: "Not tonight. Not now. That’s a serious thing to ask a girl, Timmy. Til have to tell you some other time.” "But when? Tomorrow night, maybe?” Anything now to hold him off, to give her tir. r to get her brain into working sha ye again. "Yes, Timmy.” her voice was saying again. "Yes. tomorrow night. I think I can decide by then. . .” Timmy brought the car to a stop in the middle of the highway, kissed Miriam gently on the lips and drove on once more. Miriam still could hear the soft purr of his.voice, but she did not know what he was saying. She was trying vainly to determine whether she would soon wake up and dis-

| cover she had worried to no pur- ! pose. „ • a a a THE other story I spoke of can be told in a few words. Nor does its brevity detract from its significance. It concerns a discovery made by Mrs. Chubb Tuesday evening while Mary Della read the captions under the pictures in a movie magazine and Mr. Chubb devoured his sports section. Mrs. Chubb had gone through the society news thoroughly and was perusing the first page carelessly when her attention was attracted to one of those relatively small itms that are set in very black type to indicate that they have some special importance. “Mary Della!” Mrs. Chubb cried suddenly. “Here’s a shock for you. Well, I never ” “What is it. Mom,” Mary Della asked without raising her eyes from her magazine. “Listen to this, child,” Mrs. Chubb read with effort: “Miss Marjorie Marabee and Mr. Thornton Webstone, both socially prominent in this city, were married at Boston this morning by the Rev. Dr. Milton Tanner of the Washington Street Episcopal church. The ceremony, which took place at the home of the officiating minister, was witnessed by Mrs. Tanner. No relatives or friends of the bride or bridegroom were present. The first news of the marriage came to this city in a .special dispatch to the American from Boston, shortly before press hour this afternoon.” “That's not the fellow the Marabee girl was engaged to,” Mrs. Chubb declared. “She’s eloped with another man, honey.” Still Mary Della did not look up. But the magazine before her eyes was one whirling blur.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR IT was anew Robert Henley Calkman 111 who waited opposite the shop gate Wednesday evening. Mary Della detected the change immediately. He was standing by the yellow roadster, talking to George MacKray, who just was getting cut of the car. The thin line had gone from the middle of his forehead and tlxere was no less laughter in his eyes than on his lips. The conference, apparently, held no terrors for Robert. He was plainly in high spirits. Robert met Mary Della as she crossed the street and took her arm. “Golly!” exclaimed Mary Della. “You look all pepped up, Bob. Had a shot of something?” “I’ve had a shot of the most powerful stimulant known to science,” Bob replied happily. “It commonly is know* 1 as love.” Geort ’ MacKray had jumped out of the car as they approached and he new bowed profoundly before them. ‘Behold the leading lady of ‘The Clock Shop Clock’ and the handsome hero of a thousand gridiron battles,” he teased. “Miss ; Chubb. I am annihilated.” “Mary Della’s the name.” she re- j plied quickly. “How are you Mr.—” I “George is the aoourtenance. Considering the possibility that we may all die on the same gallows, it s high time we were getting acauainted.” „ „ “He isn't intoxicated. Mary Della, was born that way You’re elected to drive, George.” “I might have known it,” George declared with affected disappointment. “The first time I get an opportunity to expound my virtues to Marv Della, you put me to work so ; I can't talk.” He waited until Mary Della and Robert were seated, then i went around and took the wheel. “I neglected to tell you, Mary Della, ’ Robert said a few minutes later, “that George is to be best man.” Mary Della caught her breath sharply. “Oh.’ she exclaimed. “Is somebody going to be married?” Hadn’t he heard? Had the Marabee girl jilted him without even telling him that she was eloping with another man?” “Why. I am, of course.” Robert replied easily. “Didn’t you know?” “Yes, but ” man THEY drove across Bank street and picked their way through the heavy evening traffic past the postoffice. “Yes.” Robert went on. “George is to be best man. and my father and mother are coming out from Detroit All that remains to be done now is to decide on a date.” “That’s important.” said Mary Della weakly. She asked herself if she ought to tell him about the ac-

—By Williams

| count of the Marabee girl’s marriage in the paper the night before. “I suppose it will be after you are graduated,” she suggested, for lack of anything better to say. George found a vacant space at the west end of the city hall and backed the roadster into it. For no reason at all, George was wearing a broad smile that wouldn’t go off.” “After graduation, of course,” Robert agreed. “Some time in June, I hope. But the engagement will have to be announced within the next few days, I suppose. “But (they were entering the police station and Lieutenant McMullen was coming to meet them)—but the engagement’s been announced already,” Mary Della whispered quickly. “You don’t have to announce it again.” Lieutenant Mullen shook hands with each of them, and led the way to the room where Mary Delia and the C. E. had been treated to an introduction to Snake Womain two nights before. They just had sat down about a long table when the C. E. came in, bowed to the group and pulled up another chair. The conference, a little more formal than was necessary, got under way immediately. The C. E. gave a brief summary of his activity in finding Robert and, later, Mary Della, and suggested that Robert tell his story first. Robert went over the significant events of the night on which Salila Hicks WES murdered, frequently turning to Mary Della, who sat by him, to corroborate some statement concerning their participation in the tragedy. Occasionally Lieutenant McMullen interrupted, to ask for more specific information, and made notes now and then on a pad before him. “I don’t believe there’s anything more,” Robert said at last. I haven’t touched npon what occurred during the several minutes that I was unconscious because Miss Chubb knows a good deal more about that period than I do.” a a a TV/TARY DELLA anticipated *he detective’s question, “if you don’t mind,” she said, “I’ll tell you something else first. I haven’t said anything about it before, but it ought to mean something. It’s just this: I saw the Red Mask again last Saturday night.” Every one else in the room sat up suddenly and turned amazed eyes on Mary Della. “You . . . what?” Robert cried, unable to believe his ears. “I saw the Red Mask again. He sneaked into my house . . “Good Lord!” the C. E. exclaimed. “In your house?” “Nowhere else. I’d been to the dance at the park with Timmy Fitzmoan and got back homec before 1 12 o’clock. We stood on the landing I and talked for a little while, and ; when I went in it must of been a | little after midnight. I couldn’t j sleep for sc me reason, so I sat down iin the living room. And then I i heard something on the landing | outside the door, and . . (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TAFZAN

The house party guests departed with Bwana to guide them on their week's trip to the nearest railway station. Morison Baynes stayed on, however. and with My Dear and Meriem waved farewell from the veranda. The young Englishman now lost no opportunity of pouring impassioned words of love into Meriem’s ear. But always he urged her to go with him to London, saying they would be married when he reached home.

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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During Bwaria’s absence his ranch foreman had employed anew assistant who went by the name of Hanson He was a tall, well-knit man of 35, blonde ot hair and smooth shaven. On the few times that Meriem had encountered the newcomer there was a tantalizing familiarity about him that convinced her that she should be , able to call the fellow by name, yet she was unable to do so. Tomorrow he was to conduct Baynes north to the caravan trails.

—By Martin

At sun-up Meriem, from her bedroom, watered the little party set forth. Meriem had avoided Mcrison Baynes the evening before, nor had me bi<j him farewell. She was uneasy at his altitude. Why had he not spoken to Bwana of nis lc-ve tor her? Why would he not permit her to tell My Dear? It was all very puzzling to the little jungle girl. But now that he had gone, Merien missed his gay companionship. Did she rove him?

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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PJ SO L" iSrUIF-t umBLE FOP A CHICKADEE 'V

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Me.iem could not answer her own question as she wandered that day in the garden. She was resL.~ss. For ‘the first time since she had come to them. Meriem felt a prisoner in the home of Bwana and My Dear. It was evening when she heard a step beyond the rose-hedge, and saw a hand reach toward her. It held a message irom Baynes. "I cannot go without seeing you again,” she read. “Come alone to the clearing tomorrow and say good-by to me.”

PAGE 11

—By Ahem

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan