Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 22, Indianapolis, Marion County, 5 June 1930 — Page 13

JUNE 5, 1930__

OUT OUR WAY

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX (Continued.) Mary Della gazed off into the night. She had, she reflected, been unfair to Joe Speaks, but she was honestly grateful to know that her most recent suspicions concerning him were unwarranted. Now she turned to Timmy Fitzmoan. “Timmy, I don’t know whether the lieutenant’s balmy or what, but this is all a lot of foolishness. Give him your string of alibis and let’s go home.” Fitzmoan’s expression softened. His shoulders sagged. His head fell forward until his chin rested on his shirt-front. “We’ve been checking his whereabouts pretty closely,” said the detective, "and he knows he’s hemmed in on all sides.” “Tell him it’s a lie, Timmy,” Mary Della pleaded. “It is a lie, isn't it?” Timmy Fitzmoan mumbled something under his breath. “She didn’t hear you,’’ suggested the C. E., “though I did. Shall I tell her what you said?” a a a TIMMY looked up sharply at the C. E. and the scowl was there again. Then he shifted his gaze to Mary Della. “I said I’m sorry, Mary Della.” "Timmy. . . .1” “I read a story called ‘The Plaster Face,’ he went around holding people up . . . for the fun of it. . . . Never hurt anybody if he could keep from it. . . . The first time I just stuck my head in and laughed. ... I hit the fellow on the Middlebury road because he got tough. . . . And the girl on the Brookside road ... he lied about it. She said I tried to kill her. She didn’t explain that the fellow with her ran off when I popped in and she grabbed my necktie and started screaming. ... I just hit her hard enough to shut her up so I could clear out. . . .” Mary Della heard Timmy Fitzmoan’s voice flowing on and on, a sickening monotone. She kept repeating to herself: “It’s a lie! A lie! He’s crazy. Why don’t they shut him up . . . Lies! . . .” Someone said something about the policeman’s ball. “The Plaster Face did something like that . . . Blew up the power plant or something . . . went walking over town sticking his masked face into lighted doors ... I turned the lights out and put on a little red mask . . The flashlight did the rest . . . Then I slid down a strip of bunting they’d dropped from the balcony to the floor . . . I didn’t turn the lights back on. The cops did that . . .” Mary Della jumped to her feet, “Don't you see that Timmy’s lost his mind? All this is impossible. It’s the silliest thing I eer heard of.” Timmy shok his head. “No, it's rot. Mary Della. It's the truth. They've got the goods on me and I might as well face it . . . It's mighty nice of you not to want to believe it, and I'm sure sorry about Saturday night ... I mean about sneaking into your house . . .” It was as if he had struck Mary Della in the face. She drew back quickly. “How'd you know about that. Timmy? Did Miriam ” Miriam shook her head positively. “I didn’t tell him. or anybody else, honey ” “It was me. Mary Della.” Timmy insisted. “I can tell you everything that happened." "Oh, my lord!” wailed Mary Della. “They're trying to prove that white is black. ... He was pretty near twice your weight, Timmy, and his face—it was dead white, and full, and . . .” “Hello!” called a voice from the darkness. “Do I get into this party or not!” It was George MacKray, approaching from the direction of Timmy's car. nun GEORGE had his hands full, his arms, in fact. Over one arm was an overcoat. One hand held a derby and a piece of iron pipe. The other was hugging a curious object that at first glance looked like a white bowl of irregular shape. “What's this?” the detective demanded. "It's the junk I was to search the car for. isn’t it? Or did yiu drop me off back there for exercise?” “But what is it?” Robert asked “Better let me answer that,” replied Timmy Fitzmoan. "Can I slip on the coat, lieutenant?” The detective nodded. Fitzmoan slipped out of the overcoat he was wearing and got into the coat George MacKray held for him.

Marvel of marvels. He was suddenly half again larger than his normal size. The coat was padded heavily, particularly through the shoulders and chest. “Now give me the derby and the plaster,” Fitzmoan directed. “The what?” George asked. But the man before him reached for the strange object, suddenly slapped it to his face and pulled an elastic over the back of his head. Then he put on the derby, and gazed about the group. Miriam caught Mary Della as she toppled over on the running board. “Take it off!” Miriam cried. “Can’t you see you’ve scared her half to death!” But Mary Della’s eyes opened and she struggled to sit up. “That’s him,” she said weakly. “That’s the Red Mask.” “Was that what you saw here that night?” the detective asked. Mary Della nodded. “And in my house Saturday night,” she added. She looked at Timmy Fitzmoan sadly. “Why did you come back wearing that thing Saturday night, Timmy?” TIMMY looked up quickly, then dropped his head again. “Remember what I told you on the landing before I left?” he inquired. “I was sore at Joe Speaks and I wanted you to think he was the Red Mask. When I went out I left the car in front of your place and bummed around the Center for a few minutes. “When I came back I could see a light in your living room. I figured you were reading. Then the idea struck me that when I got on this coat and the derby I was about Speaks’ size. I thought I’d go up, stick my head in the door, and then run for it. I didn’t think they’d keep Speaks in the lockup just for making a row at the pavilion.” The detective interrupted. “You didn’t see the cop on the beat hanging out in the doorway of the bank?” Fitzmoan looked at him in surprise. “No,” he answered. “But it wouldn’t of made any difference. I knew I wasn't suspected.” “For the last week everybody was suspected. The cop saw you and Miss Chubb go in. and he saw you come out. He was starting around the block when he saw you come back, take something out of the car, and go in again. “He got the car number and made his report. We checked it up and couldn't make out anything important. But it gave us another channel to run out and we did. That’s why I went looking for you at the store yesterday afternoon and at your home last night.” There followed a long and tense silence. The C. E. inspected his watch. “It’s getting late,” he reminded them. The detective nodded. “Just a minute.” Fitzmoan begged. “I'm not asking for any sympathy, but I want Miriam and Mary Della to know—about Salila. I didn’t mean to kill her. Even a rotter like I am wouldn’t kill his own sister on purpose.” Every one stared, incredulous. “You say Salila Hicks was your sister?” The detective couldn’t believe he had heard right. “Her name wasn’t Hicks any more than mine's Fitzmoan. What the name used to be doesn’t matter. But she made me mad and I hit her. I didn’t know I’d done for her until I got her out here. "Not so fast,” said the C. E. “Why did you hit her? I mean, how’d she make you mad? Did she know about you and ” a tt tt “'T'HAT was the start of it,” A Fitzmoan volunteered. "It was the night after I scared that pair on the Middlebury road that Salila accidentally fished a little red mask out of my pocket. She made a big joke of it and wouldn’t give me the mask back. ’The kid brother's gone in for highway robbery now,’ she said. And when she got out of the car she hollered back to me: ‘Don’t ever talk about the way I make my living after this.’ “I never had robbed anybody, and it made me mad. But I kept my trap shut and w r ent home. “Then that night I was driving along West Main street when I saw Salila get out of a car at the west end of the Green. I stopped and asked her to get In with me. But she insisted on getting in the back. " ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I see where you beat up a young girl on the Brookside road the other night. You know,’ she said, ‘I got a good notion to give you away, Timmy, after the

—By Williams

way you’ve treated Hop’—Hop was Salila’s name for ‘Snake’ Woraain. I hated him—hate him yet; but Salila was soft on him. “ ‘You’re having pipe dreams,’ I told Salila. ‘Just because I happen to have the red mask in my pocket after a masquerade dance ’ But she cut in on me. ‘And how’d you happen to come into this outfit?’ she asked, and shoved the plaster face in front of me. “I clean lost my head then. The car hadn’t moed since she got in. I grabbed that piece 'of pipe from under my feet and struck her with it. She rolled over on the seat without a word. I thought she was kidding me. ‘But after I’d called her two or three times and she didn’t move, I drove off, through the Center and out East Main street. a tt tt "I knew by then that I'd either hurt her bad or killed her, and I didn’t know what to do. I went almost to Cheshire before I figured out a plan. Then I drove back to this road. “It was the blackest night I ever saw. I drove in here, spotted another car, and parked. Then I turned the lights out and got in the back seat. I couldn’t make out whether Salila was alive or not. But something had to be done. “I dragged her out of the car and laid her in the road.” n tt tt MARY DELLA looked up from the running board. “That’s another lie!” She spat at him. “The woman screamed twice after he parked.” The group turned to Fitzmoan again. “That wasn’t Salila,” he said quickly. “That was me. I was sorry about the mysterious Red Mask. I pulled on the coat, the plaster face and the derby, stood between Salila and the car and screamed. I figured the couple in the other car would turn on the lights, see the Red Mask, and beat it, “But they didn’t turn their lights on and I screamed again. Then I heard somebody getting out of the other car, and I figured I was in for trouble.” Mary Della waved her hand impatiently. “We know all about that,” she told him sharply. “But don’t forget I heard those screams, and It was a woman.” ‘Mary Della’s dead right,” Robert declared. “No man could scream like that.” He who called himself Timmy Fitzmoan looked at the detective. “Lieutenant.” he said, “will you let me walk around the corner of that car for two seconds? Take your gun out and drop me if I try to run. But I promise you I won’t. I just want to show Mary Della she’s wrong.” “Why not here?” asked the detective. “I want her to hear it the same way she heard it that night. Come on, take your gun out.” ( The detective hesitated. Then he produced a revolver from a hip pocket. “All right,” he said, “walk off until I tell you to stop.” Fitzmoan strode off casually some ten or twelve feet into the darkness.

THE SON OF TARZAN

Menem knew she had a chance to escape, if only she had cartridges for this empty revolver. A swift survey of the tent revealed a hide-cov-ered box in one comer. She rummaged hastily through it, but at first found only odds and ends of the Swede's belongings. Then at the very bottom, wrapped in musty paper, she came upon a little carton containing ammunition belonging to the weapon she had taken from Malbihn.

_ 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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Then he stopped and immediately the night was rent by a high, piercing scream that caused the group to gasp. It was the awful scream of a woman facing death. And immediately after came the sharp report of a revolver, and a flash in the darkness. The men darted forward. “Damn it!” exclaimed the detective. “He had another gun in that overcoat.” Mary Della and Miriam clung to each other, sobbing. tt tt tt IT was not until the next afternoon that Mary Della learned where Joe Speaks and Olga Sevenson had gone on their ride. Miriam brought the news that they had driven dow r n into New York state and had been married by a justice of the peace. “It must have been a case of love at first sight,” Miriam said, “and short sight at that. But I’ve

Her search rewarded, Meriem turned to flee from the tent. Lying uppermost upon a little pile of newspaper clippings yellowed by age and handling, something arrested her attention as abruptly as though Fate itself had placed the thing before the girl’s eyes. It was the photograph of a little girl. Meriem examined the string-tied packet curiously. Where had she seen that picture before? Suddenly it came to her.

learned my lesson, honey, I never was much of a vamp with the fellows and from now on I’m satisfied to stay that way. Heard from Bob since last night, precious?” “Give him time,” Mary Della replied. “He’s due to be waiting ct the gate when we go out.” And there he was at the appointed hour, in his exceptionally long and exceptionally yellow roadster. Before the doorway leading to the Chubb flat the roadster stopped. “You’ve had enough on your mind without my adding to your problems, Mary Della,” Robert was saying. “But will you answer just one little question for me?” Mary Della Chubb of the clock shop and Bank street, and Robert Henry Calkman of Yale and Detroit, sat very close together, and the many who hurried by stared at them curiously. “Will you ” Robert began.

—By Martin

"I was so afraid you wouldn’t start right, Bob,” Mary Della confessed. “And we will be happy—in spite of your money ” “Not in spite of it, darling,” answered Robert the Third, wisely, “but because of it.” THE END. High School Girl Dies COLUMBUS, Ind., June s.—Miss Loraine Ping, 16, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Elmer Ping, died following an operation which she underwent a week ago. She was bom and reared in this city. She was a member of the United Brethren church and a sophomore in the local high school. She leaves her parents, three brothers, Morris Ping, Evansville; Chester Ping, Chester, Pa.; George Ping, at home, and three sisters, Mrs. James McDonald, Princeton; Mrs. Albert Weals, this city, and Miss Mary Ping, at home.

This was a picture of herself as she had been years and years before. Where had It been taken? How came the Swede to have it? Why was it also reproduced in the old newspaper clipping attached to it? What was the story the faded type told? Absorbed in this puzzling reflection she was startled by a noise outside. Hastily slipping cartridges into the revolver and tucking the packet into her blouse, she crawled forth into the underbrush.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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SECRET CODE GUARDED BY STATE DEPARTMENT Seek Way to Reveal Dispatches to Senate Committee. Bn United Fret* WASHINGTON, June s.—Secretary of State Stimson today sought a way to comply with the senate foreign relations committee’s request for secret naval conference dispatches without jeopardizing the department’s closest guarded secret —its confidential code. Upon secrecy of the code depends the ability of American diplomats abroad communicating privately with the state department. It is a simple matter for governments to obtain copies of cable dispatches in many countries. American diplomats often must file their confidential dispatches on government-owned telegraph lines in which the clerk who takes the

copy and the operator who sends if are civil servants of the government to which It refers. PEANUT OWNERS TO ‘TELL ALL’ OR PAY Senate provides Heavy Penalty for Failure to Give Information. WASHINGTON, June s.—“ The man who has plenty of good peanuts ...” and who refuses to tell all about them, had better watch out for the United States senate. That body has just passed a bill providing for the collection of all statistics on peanuts by the terms of which, “any persons who shall refuse or willfully neglect to furnish . . information . . shall be guilty of a misdemeanor and upon conviction thereof shall be fined not less than S3OO nor more than SI,OOO or imprisoned not more than one year, or both.”

By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Staggering through the jungle, the once fastidious and handsome Morison Baynes doggedly made his way, folowed by his native attendant. Though he did not know it, he had about reached the Swede's camp. His face and hands were badly scratched, his clothes were tattered and he almost fell from exhaustion, yet remorse for nis scurvy act and an honorable desire to right the wrong done the woman he now knew he really loved, urged him on. _

PAGE 13

—By Ahem

—By Blossei

—By Crane

—By Small