Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 20, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 June 1930 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OUT OUR WAY 19

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THE P |Np|pENDeNT 3 SYNDICATE

CHAPTER THIRTY -FOUR (Con- ■ tinued.) “What did you hear?” asked the detective.. “Oh, I don't know. It might have bean a floor board creaking. They do that in cur house. But I heard it several times, and after a while I took i'*' my shoes and went over to the f —. “I was sure somebody was on the landing then, so I went back to the table, turned the light out, disconnected the cord, shoved the shade off. and sneaked back to the door with the lamp in my hand. It’s a heavy affair and I figured if I ever hit anybody with it, there’d be a funeral . . George MacKray suddenly burst out laughing. But seeing that he was making a spectacle of himself, he sobered quickly. “And what then?” the detective urged impatiently. “Well. I heard the doorknob turning and the next thing I knew a light shot across the room and somebody was coming in . . .” George MacKray was no longer laughing. He was leaning forward, his hands clutching the arms of his chair, his body tense. “I raised the lamp over my head,” Mary Della continued, “and waited. From the glow of the flashlight I ccvM - out a man’s form, but I was waiting for him to turn so I could get a squint of his face. And then he turned just enough for me to cee a corner of a red mask, and I let go . . “You mean you screamed?” asked the detective. “Ee your age,” said Mary Della. “I s"id I let go. Let go the lamp, brother. He ker-flopped like that, cold. I picked up the flash and was stooping over to pull the mask off his eyes when his hand closed around my leg. I lost my nerve then and t'nn’ed over him in a dead faint. When I come to, he had made his exit and I was stretched out on the floor ... Now you want to know about that night on the Cheshire read . . .” a a a *\T°T so fast - Miss Chubb,” Lieu--1 s tenant McMullen said gruffly. “What you’ve just told us is of firstrate importance, if you only realized It. It fits in with something we already know r and suggests to me that the Red Mask knows you wrote the original note to the superintendent. You see, that’s the second time he’s appeared since the murder. Both times you are present.” “I hope I’m not under suspicion,” Mary Della smiled. “But if you call that little act at the armory during the policemen's ball an appearance, I think you're wrong.” “You saw- him at the armory, didn't you?” the detective asked. “I saw w hoever it was that turned a flashlight on himself in the balcony w'hen the lights went out,” lilary Della admitted. “But J t w'asn’t the same fellow I saw on the Cheshire road and again in my house Saturday night.” “But how do you know?” “Well, the fellow that wore the red mask in the armory must have weighed a good deal less, for one thing. We couldn’t see anything but his face, you know, but his face was thin And then, too, it had some color in it.” “What do you mean by that?” asked the detective. “Didn’t the Cheshire road Red Mask have any color?" “Not a drop,” Mary Della declared emphatically. "I can’t describe it very well, but it was so white you wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.” “Sounds like a victim of anaemia.” said the detective. “Or dropsy,” suggested Robert. “Sounds like Santa Claus with too much powder cn to me.” George offered. and ducked an imaginary blow from Robert. Lieutenant mmullen tapped the table idly with the end of his pencil. “Let’s see. now,” he said. “Could It have gotten around that you wrote the note about the murder, Miss Chubb?” “No,” said Mary Della, positively “At least, not before yesterday.” “An old flame of mine figured it out for himself and told one of the girls at the shop. And he tipped the superintendent off, too. You know about that.” “Oh. Speaks, you mean. By the way, where was Speaks the night you and Mr. Calkman parked on s the Cheshire road?” L “Playing craps,” Mary Della revied frankly. “Shooting craps, I s|jj>uld have said. Anyhow he said

I had a date with Joe Speaks that night in front of the postoffice and he didn’t show up. And then Mr. Calkman came along, tried to run over me, and finally took me in his car and went for a ride instead.” She glanced quickly at Robert and saw that he was smiling at her version of thsir first meeting. George MacKray was shaking a finger of admonition at Robert and trying to look severe. “And you don’t know where Speaks was except that he told you he was shooting craps? . . . That’s interesting. And was Speaks in the armory the night of the policemen’s ball?” “He was, but he was out taking a smok> when the fellow appeared with the red mask in the balcony.” “And do you know he was out taking a smoke; or is that what he told you?” “That’s what he told me,” Mary Della confessed. “Joe and Timmy Fitzmoan both went out to smoke, and while they were out the red mask went on. But I tell you that fellow wasn’t the real Red Mask. He was somebody getting funny.” “We’ve considered that," said the detective. “I’m merely checking every possibility. . . . But let’s follow this on out. Where was Speaks Saturday night when you had your masked visitor?” “That s where your theory breaks down?” said Mary Della. “Have you forgotten you had him in a cell downstairs?” “Oh, of course ... I’d forgotten that. . . . But, to go to the end of the line, when did you see Speaks last?” “Saturday night," Mary Della an- j swered, “at the dance.” “And you haven’t heard from him since?” “No, not from him. But I’ve heard of him. I told you he spilled the beans to one of the girls at the shop. That girl told me what he’d said. And he said plenty.” “Can you tell us what he said?” asked McMullen. “I can, but it doesn’t amount to much. He just tried to put the spikes to me, that’s all. The girl told him she thought he was lying and said she’d asked me to my face if it was so that I wrote that note. And he said that suited him, and if I told her I did write it, he’d expect her to ” a a a SOMETHING clicked in Mary Della's brain just then. She suddenly remembered just what Joe had said to Olga Svenson and it assumed an unexpected importance after the rapid calculations of the detective. Olga had told Joe she would go to ride with him tonight if she found he had told her the truth. Even at this very moment Olga was probably in his car. Perhaps . . Mary Della got out of her chair in a flash. “Listen to me,” she cried at the detective. ‘I can’t explain what it’s all about now, but I’ve just thought of something that may mean life and death ...” “But what . . .” “Please don’t ask questions now. Come on. Quick! We’ve got to go to a house on West Main street. We may get there before they leave. Hurry! . . “But Speaks can’t be the Red Mask . . .” Lieutenant McMullen hesitate. “Come on,” Robert called, following Mary Della through tl-j door. "If she says it’s important, it is. Have you got a bigger car than mine downstairs?” “Sure,” said the detective, sudj denly agile. “Go out the back way.” CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE THEY clambered into the big car, Mary Della between Robert and George MacKray in the rear seat, \ the C. E. and Lieutenant McMul- ! len in front The detective drove. “Did you say West Main street?” I “I said West Main street,” Mary Della assured him. “And I said make it snappy! If you dr.n’t, vou may find you’ve got another Red Mask murder to grow gray-headed j over." , “Too bad they Oan't supply these police cars with heaters and robes.” George declared. “I never had so | few comforts in my lite.” “Isn't that too bad!” This from Robert. “We couldn’t get you a hot , water bottle and a hot chocolate at j the first drug store we pass, could we? " V “You couJV” George replied quickly. is, wit}-,

—By Williams

Mary Della, nervously washing her hands in the air, could not resist a smile. “Will you children quit fighting?” she demanded. “You’ve always got something to argue over. And this is serious.” “Did you mean what you said to Mac about the possibility of another Red Mask murder?” Robert asked Instantly the two men turned to her, grave, interested, sympathetic. “Oh, I don’t know, Bob,” she answered vaguely. “I don’t know anything at all. I’ve just got a feeling that something terrible may be happening to—to a friend of mine.” “But it came on you so suddenly,” George suggested. “Do you know something that gives that—did you say feeling?—something that gives that feeling substance? You aren’t taking us off on a wild ride on an abstract hunch ...” Mary Della leaned forward and spoke to Lieutenant McMullen. “It’s the second door beyond the post there ... On the left . . . Let me out and I’ll run in while you’re turning around . . ” To Robert and George she added hastily: “I’ll explain as quick as I can. Wait in the car until I come back. I may be on the wrong track.” The car was coming to a stop, but ■ Mary Della, impatient, pushed the door open and jumped to the pavement. The detective glanced behind him and brought the machine about in a wide circle, stopping before the door through which Mary Delia just had disappeared. “This certainly is funny business to me,” George told Robert after a moment. “We sit down to discuss the thing calmly, and this child hops up and starts us off madly after something that may be a r.ut or an escaped canary for all we know.” “No use to get hot about it,” Robert reminded him. “Mary Della knows what it’s all about, and she’s not the kind to get excited over a canary.” “Sure she won’t need us in there?” the detective asked over his shoulder. * “She said for us to wait here,” Robert replied, his voice suggesting that there could be no possible appeal from Mary Della's mandates. 0 0 it LESS than four minutes after she had jumped from the car, Mary Della came through the dark doorway, breathless. “She’s gone!” she cried, standing by the car, apparently undecided what was to be done now. “Who’s gone?” the C. E. asked bluntly. “Olga. Olga Svenson. She lives on the second floor there. Her mother said she went out about twenty minutes ago. With a young man, she said. But she doesn’t know who.” “Is it important?” the detective inquired. “You don't know how important. If I only knew where she went. I know who the man was. It couldn’t of been anybody else. She said he was going to take her out riding i tonight and ...” (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

n ..ti

More was in the letter—words that made Meriem’s heart beat fast and a happy flush mount her cheeks. But when next evening she arrived at the trysling plac.v she was astonished to find not Baynes b*jt ;-/o other riders. She drew back startled as she saw one was Hanson. "Mr. Baynes had an accident. His horse fell on him, sc he sent me to meet you and bring you to camp.” In the darkness Meriem could not see the fellow’s gloating

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

BMI'. DON'T WE NEMER GET (\ ) fa/ OH, ’jjE.lL! V OHjYEH, THINGS COULD X GEE Wl \ BREkK? WE REACH LM4DONIH THINGS COULD) WORSE, I RECKON. WWW IF I BEEN \To RUN INTO OMt o'THESE \ BE MOT /WE WERE STRANDED INTHIS IN JML SO \ ASIATIC CHOLERA EPIDEMICS. ‘V WOW6.V HICK MONVfEV TOWN WITHOUT ...

SALESMAN SAM

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MOM’N POP

Troubled by this unexpected turn of events, Meriem followed Hanson All night they rode. The girl did not know where the camp lay. Hanson had brought weil-fUed saddle bags. They halted for breakfast and again rode on. Meriem finally became suspicious Gradually the attitude of this fellow was changing. Often she surprised him devouring her f with his eyes.

—By Martin

At last they broke out cf the jungle and upon the opposite river bank. Meriem saw a camp. “Here we are,” said Hanson. He fired his revolver and native boys came to paddle them across. When she asked for Baynes, Hanson pointed toward the single tent standing in the center of the inclosure. in there,” he said and held bade Mgrieaa.jo enj*r’uftL-

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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/on, nw > ( TOttffr WKP.) lltfTW MONffS! m / GOSH 1 I m UOMORCO’W SEVENTY Jig 7 7 |4 GRAND-rr-S STILL OM fm /- O RE q 1 ■

BKNOW WHAT'S COME. OVER CHICK. HE SEEMS THAT'S EASV-SPRING*. him ir He'D seen the be up in / when begins SOARD MID IRON HE JUST STOOD THE CUOUDS / TO PRIMP UP THERE'S BUT TH A VARAWAV LOOK IN HIS EVES V ONE REASOM-'tU THE NOTHING AND HERE THEY WERE/ — V SPRING * VOUUG MANS

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

“Where Is Mr. Baynes?” she demanded. “He ain’t here,” replied Hanson grinning. “But I’m here and I’m a better mar than he is. You don’t need him no more. You got me.” He laughed as ne reached for her. Meriem struggled to free herself. As she fought there came a sudden recollection of*a similar scene and with it full recognition or her aseahant. He was Malbihn

JUNE 3,193®

—By Ahern

—By Blosser

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowan